Chapter Twenty-Seven
I’m sitting in my office, going through some security footage at Larry’s, making sure he’s towing the line after his facelift. Deano has been a great addition to my team. I can’t believe my father overlooked him for so long. He’s young, ambitious, connected, extremely hardworking, and so far loyal.
As part of his new role, I have him keeping an eye on Larry’s business since I demoted him.
Although he’s feeling bitter about his younger, more productive replacement, he hasn’t pushed back…
yet. I’ve been keeping a close eye on him since his return, although he’s not happy about his demotion.
Deano seems to be working out well, and revenue is up twelve per cent.
Larry’s nervous, constantly looking over his shoulder.
I can’t figure out if he’s nervous because I rearranged his face or shifty because he’s trying to pull one over on me.
I watch intently for any sign of the latter.
People coming and going, and Deano has also got his ear to the ground because it’s in his best interest to keep Larry on a short leash; he is my go-to man after all.
With Deano and his men in charge now, I feel I can relax a little, but I don’t want to get complacent like my father and the other Syndicate members.
I’m female, there will always be pushback, no one is going to just sit back and take it, like if I had a dick. As if that makes me more qualified to head a mafia family. I’m just waiting for an excuse to get rid of Larry, but I can’t toss everything on its arse while I’m trying to take over.
For now, Larry is a beacon, a neon sign shining out there for all to see that if you cross me, you will pay with either your looks or your life. I need to pick my battles right now. I’m disturbed from my concentration by a knock at the door.
“It’s me, Miss Bianchi. Can I have a word?”
Matteo. I bristle at his voice. He’s been quiet since the wedding, giving me space, which I appreciate. But then I also haven’t been anywhere or needed him.
“Come in.”
The door creaks open, and he turns, glancing each way down the corridor before stepping in and clicking the door closed gently behind him.
“What can I do for you, Matteo?”
He’s looking everywhere but at me, and he’s carrying a large manila envelope.
“Matteo? You wanted something?”
He steps forward, clutching that envelope so tightly, and then stares down at me, making eye contact for the first time. There’s a spark of something that crosses his features, sorrow maybe, but it’s gone before it takes hold.
“If you’re handing in your resignation, I don’t accept.”
He gives me a tentative smile but shakes his head, stepping forward and placing the envelope on my desk.
I reach for it, and as I try to slide it towards me, he grips it tighter.
A moment passes where we just stare at each other, both holding onto the opposite end, before he takes a small step back, straightening before giving me a curt nod.
I pick it up, but my eyes stay trained on him.
I watch each tick of his jaw, each twitch of his eye, each gulp as he swallows.
Reaching inside the envelope, I start to pull the contents out.
His hands cross in front of him, but there’s the slightest twitch in the corner of his lips.
If I weren’t looking for something, I might have missed it, and then it’s gone before it even began.
My eyes flick down as I pull the papers out of the envelope, seeing that they’re photos.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Bianchi.”
Matteo gives me a sympathetic shake of his head, and his lips turn down in a frown.
I gaze back down, staring at the photos.
I keep my glare on him too, watching every move he makes; he feels smug.
I can see it in his stance, the way the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, the little twitch at the corner of his mouth, thinking he’s going to get a reaction from me, thinking these images are damning and that they’ll make me have a meltdown or worse. I curl my lip as I stare at the photos.
“Miss Bianchi?… Arianna?” His tone is questioning. Are you okay? Are you upset? What about livid? Do you want to cry? Can I be your shoulder to cry on? Can I be your rebound? I hear it all in the way he says my name.
I stare up at him. “It’s Mrs,” I say as I stare back down at the photos.
I look at every minute detail in them. I flick from one to the next, and Matteo crosses his arms across his chest, a defensive stance, a slight disappointed scowl etches itself across his features.
“What do you want to do about them, Mrs Bianchi?” He emphasises the “Mrs” part now with a mild hint of sarcasm. I smile at him and slide the pictures back inside the envelope and slip it inside my drawer.
“Nothing.” I smile at him and turn back towards the monitor, and start to scroll through the footage. “Did you need anything else, Matteo?”
“That’s it?” I turn and stare at him.
“Were you expecting something else?”
“You saw the pictures, right? You know what they mean?”
“I saw them, yes. As to what they mean, I think they’re subjective.”
“Subjective? Seriously. You’ve been married two minutes, and he’s cheating on you, and you sit there all calm, and subjective is all you can come up with?”
“Matteo, I feel these photos have upset you more than me. Is there something you need to happen?”
“You can’t stay with him now. Surely loyalty means more than anything; have I not been loyal?
” And there’s the reason he’s the one bringing me photos of my husband allegedly cheating on me.
The thing is, I’ve licked every inch of that man since we got married, I’ve spent hours tracing every spot of ink on his body, and some of the tattoos in the pictures just aren’t right.
His hair is slightly lighter than it is, and his eyes just don’t look right.
His fingers look slim and too long. At a glance, they’re good, really good, but not good enough to convince me he’s cheating.
If I hadn’t paid as much attention to Matteo’s mannerisms when he walked in, I might have been duped.
But I don’t believe for a second Vittorio has deceived me.
I totally think this is a ploy to, I don’t know, get me to lose my shit, accuse him of cheating.
It’s some conspiracy to have us at each other’s throats.
“You want me to fall apart, to cry on your shoulder? To rebound and fuck you? Here on this desk, against that wall?”
“You’re being ridiculous,” he snaps. “I just… I was hoping…”
“What were you hoping, Matteo?” I stand and walk around the desk and perch on the end of it. “That I’d throw myself at you, that I’d fuck you right here on this desk—would you alert Vittorio somehow so he’d catch us, and that would be my marriage over?” I scoff.
“He’s not a good guy, Arianna.”
“Do I look like a good girl to you?” I stand and step towards him.
“Do I look like I’m easily fooled or manipulated, Matteo?
Do you take me for some fool that can be deceived with Photoshop?
Do you think I haven’t paid attention to every inch, and I mean every.
Fucking. Inch. Of that man?” I step again and press my finger to his chest, pushing him back a step.
“Now tell me how fucking loyal you are?”
I step closer and push the flat of my hand against his chest. “Whose side are you on, Matteo?”
The door clicks open, and Matteo’s eyes widen. My face contorts with barely restrained rage.
“Ahh, as if the fucking devil has summoned you himself.”
Matteo turns abruptly and storms past Vittorio, shoulder-checking him as he thunders past.
“What the fuck is wrong with him?”
I walk around the desk and drag the envelope from the drawer, toss it across the table, lean against it and cross my arms.
He pulls the photos out. The scowl that spreads across his face could start wars. “What the fuck are these?” He slams them down on the desk. “Where the fuck did you get them? Was it him?”
I step up against him. I slide my hand up and over his chest. “Hey. I trust you. I know they’re not real. That’s why he’s pissed because I didn’t react.”
He wraps his arms around me. “Is he going to be a problem?”
“If he does turn out to be a problem, I will get rid of him.”
“How did you know it wasn’t me?”
I roll my eyes at him. “The tats are wrong, the bend in your dick is different, and if that was your sex face, I would totally demand a divorce.”
He chuckles and pulls me tighter. I lean up and press my lips to his.
I close my eyes and let myself relax into him, trust in him.
I nip at his bottom lip, and he tightens his hold on me.
His hand slides up and into the back of my hair, his fingers tighten against my scalp just the right amount of tension that makes me boneless against him.
He grins against me as he tugs my hair to the side, tilting my head, giving him better access as he turns his attention to my neck, and he licks and nips at it as I moan.
My arms wrap around him, pulling him against me, grinding my body against his. He chuckles against my neck. As the tension between us leaves. We’re the only two people in the world, and nothing and no one can come between us.
As long as we have each other, we are stronger than the rest of them combined. I tug at his hair. “Sit down, Vittorio.”
His eyes twinkle as he lets me go and steps over to the chair. He turns and starts to push down his bottoms, and I chuckle. I step up to him and push him back so he drops into the chair. I drop to my knees and slide my hands up and over his thighs.
He stares down at me, mesmerised as I pick up his dick in my hand and lick from balls to weeping tip.
I slide my tongue over his slit and suck on the end, taking all the precum into my mouth.
His hands reach down and wrap in my hair; he gathers it into a ponytail on top of my head and uses it to steer me back down deeper on his dick.
He groans as I wrap my tongue around him, licking up his shaft as he lifts my head before pushing it back down again. I reach between his legs and stroke his balls. He starts to buck up into my face. I gag a little, and he groans.
“Fuck, your mouth is sinful.” I slide off and nip at his foreskin, and he jolts up, gasping, and I chuckle around him. His grip tightens in my hair, and he thrusts up harder. I stare up at him, and I wink.
He pants, his nostrils flare as he tries to hold back, driving up as he forces my head down.
I gag and choke, and his breathing stutters.
I smile, and that’s all the confirmation he needs.
He lets his dick hit the back of my throat, and when I cough and choke, he holds me there for a second longer before pulling back and slamming back in again.
His eyes darken, and the snarl on his face as he loses himself makes me so fucking wet.
I reach between my legs, but his resolve snaps. He snatches me off him, spins me, yanking at my trousers, I flick the button and zip open as he roughly shoves them down. He bends me over, crashing me against the desk, his hand still wrapped around my hair as he steps up behind me.
He propels straight inside me as he crushes me to the desk, his body hot against my back, his hand tight in my hair as he pins me to the desk with it, and his body slams into mine.
“Fuck,” he rasps. His voice wavers, and his normal dirty talk evades him. He grunts and groans with every thrust, and I mewl and claw at the table. He slams hard against me, fucking me into the wood. I cry out as he crashes into me, over and over.
I feel every inch of him with no way to give myself any release. I try to buck against him. I try to rub my thighs together, but he’s feral. He just keeps chanting.
“Fuck, fuck.”
The sound of skin slapping skin echoes around the room.
I scream out as he buries himself deeper and deeper inside me.
I start to cry out. Tears of frustration start to roll down my face as I need to release, but he holds me firm.
He slams into me. His last thrust screeches the desk so hard across the floor that I know it will scratch.
He roars as he comes inside me, and I slump, and he relaxes his grip.
I’m worn out and oversensitive. I need to come. He pulls out of me.
He yanks hard on my hair, standing me up and spins me to face him.
My breathing ragged, he crashes his lips to mine.
His other hand slides down and wraps around my leg.
He stands on my trousers, hoisting my leg up he rips them off me.
I squeal out into the kiss in shock as he slams my back onto the table.
His hand releases my hair as he grabs my thighs, slamming my legs back.
He gives me the dirtiest grin before he lunges, and his face slams into my pussy.
He sucks and bites down, licking every drop of himself from me before leaning over, slamming his mouth to mine.
He forces his tongue into my mouth, and I shudder as his body rubs over my clit.
His tongue forces his cum into my mouth, and I groan, my eyes flutter at how filthy it feels.
His soft dick slides around, rubbing against my pussy, catching my clit, and I claw at him, trying to get him back inside me. His hand pushes between us, his fingers thrusting inside me as his hips buck against me. I gasp and moan, squirming under him as my eyes roll into the back of my head.
He slams against me, sliding more fingers in the slick of his cum, making them glide in and out effortlessly, then he drops to his knees and sucks my clits, he nips down on it before I scream out, gasping as the orgasm rips through me.
His eyes glaze as he holds me down, sucking until I can’t take anymore, and I sob out, melting into the desk.
His face peers up from between my legs, cum covering his face, and he just grins at me. I chuckle and rest my head back, closing my eyes as my legs flop off the end of the desk. He heaves me up so I’m sitting. As he steps against me, he slides his hand against my cheek. He whispers, “I love you.”
My eyes widen, but he crashes his mouth to mine, so I can’t reply. I wrap my arms around him and pull him to me because I love him too.