Chapter Eight
Penelope
CESARE CAN'T SEEM TO keep his hands to himself as he towels me dry after our shower. His fingers casually tease my nipples as he hooks my bra close at the back, and he accidentally makes my pussy quiver as he checks the seamless fit of my panties.
He asks me to choose something sleeveless for some reason, so I opt for a little black dress that makes me feel rather elegant. I want to ask him if I'm overdressed, but as soon as I come down, Cesare informs me that La Strega is waiting for us at her private study.
"Sit down, please."
While the older woman no longer terrifies me the way she had yesterday, I still find her vastly intimidating, and I end up answering her like a newly recruited soldier being interrogated by his commander.
"I hope you slept well, bambina? "
"Yes, ma'am."
"And you seem to be getting along with my grandson, sì? "
"Yes, ma'am."
"Do you have any complaints? Any worries?"
"No, ma'am."
"You weren't this nervous with me the first time."
That's because yesterday, I was mostly in shock, but now that the truth of her identity has truly sunk in, and I find myself recalling of all the other gory stories I've heard of how La Strega has tortured those stupid enough to piss her off—-
"I'm sorry, ma'am."
The older woman glances at Cesare, asking, "Is she also like this with you?"
"Not at all," her grandson drawls. "But maybe that's also because most of the time we're busy turning each other on—-"
"Cesare!"
His grandmother and I end up saying his name at the same time, with La Strega sounding outraged while mine comes out in a dismayed squeak.
Cesare only smirks. "You can't say it didn't work."
La Strega and I look at each other...and we end up grimacing at the same time.
Grrr.
Both of us find it rather galling to realize that Cesare's absolutely right, and although our conversation takes a serious turn after that, it's indeed true that I no longer feel nervous or intimidated in La Strega 's presence.
"The whole of New England has not been involved in the drug trade ever since I took the reins of our famiglia. It was about a year ago, however, that we started to hear rumors about someone from the Sorrentos wanting to change this. That's when I knew I had to do everything to find you—-"
"Because you believe be able to put a stop to it," I say quietly, "through my marriage to Cesare."
" Oh no, bambina . I don't just believe this. I know it will be so, and I mean it to be so . Our famiglia is ready to go to war with whoever opposes us on this, but let us hope it will not come to that, sì? In the meantime..." La Strega reaches over the desk to gently squeeze my hand, saying, "I know you are looking forward to meeting your grandmother, but for now it is best to keep your existence a secret, just to keep anyone from...meddling. Va bene?"
THINGS HAVE STARTED to feel overwhelmingly surreal again by the time Cesare and I leave his grandmother's study, and it's only when I'm already in the passenger seat of Cesare's sports car, and he's driving past the ornate gates of the Marchetti Mansion that I finally manage to get out of my thoughts.
I glance at the rearview mirror, and my heart skips a beat when I realize there doesn't seem to be a convoy of cars full of bodyguards following us.
If it's truly just the two of us now, then...is it safe to assume we're about to have our first date?
Eep.
The thought makes me giddy as a schoolgirl, and my heart starts racing when I turn my gaze to my mafia boss.
Oh.
Is it just me...or does Cesare look so much cooler when he's driving, and especially with a pair of aviator glasses shielding his gaze?
"As much as I love having you stare at me—-"
Oops .
"I need you to concentrate and listen carefully to what I'm about to say."
It takes everything not to squirm in my seat while I wait for his next words. Is this it? Is he going to tell me we're about to go out on a date, and it's because he's changed his mind, and he's realized that what he really wants is a normal marriage—-
"You know that Boston is Marchetti territory, sì? "
I nod and say yes even as I try figuring out what this has to do with anything. Maybe...Cesare is just like his grandmother, and this is all a test? Maybe he wants to know if geography is a strong suit of mine, since it's something everyone expects from a mafia boss's wife?
"There is nothing that goes on in this city that our famiglia does not control. Everything you see is ours. Everyone you will meet here works for us. Boston is ours, in every way there is."
And I guess...he's now explaining to me what's about to be our conjugal assets?
"But in a couple of minutes, we'll be taking the interstate and heading to Providence."
He looks at me like he's expecting me to say something, and so I say...
"That's in Rhode Island, right?"
Cesare relaxes. " Essato ."
"And, um—-"
I feel like I'm acting like a goody-two-shoes student eagerly aiming to be some teacher's pet, but...I just can't seem to help myself.
"Providence is about an hour's drive away, isn't it?"
" Sì ." Approval underscores his tone, and I'm now absolutely certain of two things: geography does mean huge to famiglia, and yes, I really am acting like I want to be this man's pet.
"You understand then, tesoro ? What that one hour means?"
Since he looks slightly perturbed, I'm guessing he doesn't want me to be bored during the drive?
"You don't have to worry about me—-"
"I will always worry about you, Penelope."
A faint smile curves over his lip when he sees me blush, and I mentally swoon when Cesare takes my hand and presses a quick, feather-soft kiss to my knuckles.
Boy, oh boy.
Cesare only smiles every time he catches me stealing looks at him, but as embarrassed as I am, it's simply another thing I'm unable to control.
He's just too beautiful and hot to be real, and it feels even more incredible when I remember Cesare telling me every inch of him is mine.
With my head in the clouds the entire ride, it's only when Cesare's car finally backs into a parking slot that hunger pangs hit my stomach, and I belatedly remember that we have yet to have breakfast.
Cesare helps me out of the car, and I tell myself I need to be patient and not ask him about what he has planned. It seems like he wants our date to be a surprise—- shit.
I know I'm doomed to starve a little while longer the moment Cesare leads me up the entrance steps of a high-rise building, and a guard holding an honest-to-goodness machine gun greets him with the kind of deference that only someone who's also famiglia can show.
I wish I could convince myself there's a Jollibee waiting and ready to feed us inside, but this place screams 'mafia-exclusive' any way you look at it, and I'm not even surprised when security has their dogs sniff circles around our bodies for explosives before clearing us for entry.
The first set of heavily-tinted doors slides open, but this only allows us inside an empty antechamber of sorts, with what looks like a concierge counter adjacent to another set of doors made of bulletproof glass.
"Buongiorno, signore, signorina. "
The man behind the counter looks like Abraham Lincoln...if our former president ever opted for a mohawk and a nose ring
"Regular or extra, Signor Marchetti?"
"Regular would do, Cassio."
I tug at Cesare's sleeve as the other man turns away. "Please tell me he's offering complimentary coffee?" The concierge comes back just as I finish speaking, and he immediately starts coughing as he places a small metal box on the counter.
Why is this guy laughing at me?
Is everyone here so loaded that they don't care for—- oh.
All I can do is gape as Cesare starts loading the box with two handguns, three pocket knives of varying lengths, and...do I even want to know why he needs a pair of handcuffs when he isn't a cop?
Cesare catches me gaping, and his dark eyes gleam. "Worried, tesoro ?"
I scowl up at him. "If you ever use those cuffs on me—-"
"You're welcome to use them on me, too."
"Seriously?" Wait, what am I saying? "I mean, no. Not interested, sorry."
A smirk plays over his lips. "Are you sure about that?"
A loud buzzing sound saves me from lying - I mean, replying, and the last pair of doors slowly swing open.
Whoa .
I feel like Cesare and I have just entered Hell, with all-red lights glowing down on black-painted walls and stone floors of the exact same shade.
"What is this place?" I ask nervously.
"La Torre dei Mostri ."
I bite back a sigh. Why did I even think this place would have an English name? I should have realized by now anything famiglia will likely come with an Italian name, and—- what in the world?
As soon as Cesare and I step inside an elevator, the first thing I notice is how the entire panel of buttons below the LED display is completely blank.
Just seeing Cesare press a couple of them makes me feel like my life has suddenly turned into an action movie—-but whether I'm playing the role of the female lead or victim, I've yet to figure out.
My heart sinks when the elevator doors finally slide open, and there's still no Jollibee we can grab some ready-to-serve breakfast from. Instead, we have a guy who looks like a rockstar in a white coat, and he wastes no time in introducing himself as Dr. Rivera.
The older man takes us straight to a laboratory, and my stomach growls just as Cesare assists me to a seat.
Oops.
I look at Cesare and the doctor in sheepish apology. "I'm sorry—-"
"I'm the one who's sorry, tesoro, " Cesare cuts me off with a grimace. " But I promise you'll be able to eat anything and everything you want soon enough. Dr. Rivera will only need you to complete several tests, and it shouldn't take more than a couple of minutes."
I'm about to ask exactly what kind of tests we're talking about, but then I see Dr. Rivera with his swab kit, and I realize this is probably to establish my identity with a DNA match.
Dr. Rivera is able to get my swab samples in less than two minutes, but just when I'm about to stand up, Cesare's hands curve over my shoulders, and he gently presses me back down to my seat.
Huh?
"Just one last thing to do, tesoro. "
Honestly, I'm starting to feel disappointed about how insensitive he's being. Couldn't we have breakfast before coming here? It's not like—- OH SHIT.
A nurse with a blood extraction kit enters the laboratory, and I start feeling a little faint as she takes the seat across mine.
" Un momento, signorina, " she says with a smile. "I just need to take a sample of your blood."
Something flashes in the air, and I feel even fainter as I watch her insert a really, really long needle into a syringe.
I remember Cesare and La Strega discussing the need to have a doctor see me over last night's dinner, and I also remember telling them how I was fine with that as long as it didn't involve someone poking me with a needle.
I remember Cesare not saying a word, and idiot that I am, I had thought his silence signified his agreement.
But obviously that's not the case, and since Cesare is not La Strega's grandson for nothing—-
Shit, shit, shit!
No freaking wonder he's delayed us having breakfast. Blood tests typically require individuals to fast a certain number of hours, and when the nurse reaches for my arm to tie a tourniquet around it—-
Oh no, you don't!
The hemophobic wimp in me freaks out, and all hell breaks loose.