16. Luna
16
LUNA
Two days passed since Massimo felt well enough to go to work. What he actually did on his typical day of work wasn’t something I wanted to think about.
I grimaced at the thought, letting my eyes focus back on the baked potatoes I had just pulled out of the oven, frowning slightly at the sight.
Massimo was busy. Much more so than Andre, who would come in and out of the house at different hours throughout the day and who often made it home for dinner—something Mom had looked forward to. But it was something Lina didn’t much care for unless there was something specific she wanted, and something I hated, if nothing more than it felt like the whole house seemed to hold its breath for an unnaturally long time whenever Andre stepped foot inside, making the air feel more tense, more suffocating than usual.
Or perhaps it was just me who felt that way.
Either way, what I had craved from Andre’s house—peaceful isolation—had ended up feeling like something I resented here at the Las Vegas home.
Even though I had been the one who was actively trying to avoid Massimo after witnessing what he had done in the shower that day, I wasn’t avoiding him anymore.
I…
I didn’t want to.
Massimo had done something I never thought he would be able to do. He made me crave his presence, and oh, how I resented him for it.
I wasn’t supposed to need anyone.
Especially not crave them.
I frowned. What was wrong with me?
Footsteps sounding across the linoleum floor caught my attention, and I looked up in time to see Lettie come into the kitchen. She froze when she saw me standing there by the kitchen island, and it was taking everything in me not to show my emotions on my face.
I had years of practice putting on a neutral expression no matter what was happening in my environment. It was the only way I knew how to survive, but ever since my move to Las Vegas, it was like I was slowly but surely being reverted back to how I had been when I was little.
Still a little na?ve to the world, still so trusting, I didn’t think my face would make me vulnerable. I knew better now, and there was no one I was more wary of in this house than Elena and Lettie.
Massimo is a man. It wouldn’t take him long to get bored with her. You just have to remind him why that is. And why you would be a better fit.
Elena’s words to Lettie had been running around in my head over and over again since the day I heard them. She slept with Massimo. She was obviously more experienced than me. She knew what to do to drive him crazy.
But he was mine.
And it was my name he called out while in the shower, and though I knew that didn’t mean much, it had to account for something.
I would be damned if I let her get the better of me.
I tilted my chin up in defiance, daring her to say anything to me.
Her eyes widened slightly, and the way she shifted her weight from one foot to the other told me she probably wouldn’t say anything.
Just before I could actually feel happy over this small victory, Elena walked in; the usual dark look she’d adopted whenever I came into her sight was on her face.
Lettie might have been young enough and pretty enough to entice Massimo into her bed before we married, but I had a feeling Elena was the one who orchestrated everything.
Elena took in the kitchen in all its entirety, her scowl darkening further.
“What have you done in my kitchen?” she said. She didn’t yell, but her voice was a little louder than necessary, and though I had thought I was better than I had been when I was little, there was just something about raised voices that always made me want to freeze in place and try to make myself as small as I possibly could.
I didn’t answer her right away, trying to calm my heart and think of a way to respond that wouldn’t escalate the situation.
“Look at all this mess,” Elena exclaimed. “Are you expecting either Lettie or me to clean it for you?”
That had never even crossed my mind. I would have cleaned it up myself eventually, but the way she asked the question told me she already guessed the answer.
“It’s your job, isn’t it? It’s what I hired you to do, or have you gotten so bold over the years that you think you’re exempt from doing your job?” a deep voice asked from behind Elena, startling everyone.
I looked over to see Massimo standing there, and I couldn’t be sure, but he looked mad.
No, more than mad.
He looked furious.
But even furious, there was still something so controlled about him that I had never witnessed with other made men. Not with Andre and not even with Emilio.
“Mr. De Luca!” Elena exclaimed, the color draining from her face.
I stood where I was, unsure of what I was supposed to do. Would his obvious anger toward Elena somehow make its way onto me?
Was he one of those men who didn’t calm easily once his temper was pricked at, taking it out on anyone and anything within sight?
I didn’t know.
Apprehension danced along my spine.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Elena stuttered out. I almost felt bad for her.
“No?” Massimo asked calmly, his voice low. “Then what is it like? Did I not hear you tell my wife that the mess in this kitchen wouldn’t be cleaned up by you?”
“Mama didn’t mean it like that,” Lettie chimed in. She quieted when Massimo turned those cold green eyes toward her. She took a step back.
“There’s no need to explain. You both owe my wife an apology.”
I tensed when both Elena and Lettie turned their attention toward me as they mumbled out their apologies. Their eyes strayed to the floor.
I couldn’t say anything in acknowledgment of that. I didn’t know what to say. Never had anyone tried to stick up for me before, and Massimo was doing it…
But why?
For image’s sake?
He couldn’t have people talking about how his wife was being bullied by the staff.
My cheeks tightened from the thought.
I was everything Andre had said I was.
Useless.
I couldn’t even be Massimo’s wife correctly.
“Pack your things and leave. And I’m being generous in letting you leave,” Massimo said to them, drawing me out of my thoughts.
“What?” This came from me. I hadn’t planned on saying anything, but was he… was he really firing them?
Massimo moved over to me, his footsteps slow and sure.
It felt like everyone was holding their breath as he moved, not wanting to make another sound to draw his attention. I flinched slightly when he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me in closer to him.
“I won’t allow anyone to disrespect my wife. Had they been men, they wouldn’t be leaving this house with their belongings.”
Lettie sputtered out something unintelligible, shutting up quickly when Elena reached her arm out for her daughter, shaking her head.
“Thank you,” Elena said quietly. “We’ll leave as soon as possible.”
And with that, they left the kitchen, and I was left reeling over all that happened, wondering if it was true—that in a flash, both Elena and Lettie were out of my life for good, and it had been over his defense of me.
“You didn’t have to fire them over that,” I said, turning over to Massimo and looking up to meet his eyes. It took everything in me not to look away, especially when he frowned slightly, the move pulling on the scar over his face, making him look not quite so… human.
After a small moment of neither one of us saying anything, he let out a small sigh. I flinched and felt his inquisitive eyes on me, like if he looked hard enough, he might be able to see right through me.
He probably could.
“No?” he asked finally. “What would you have me do?”
I shrugged. “Issue a warning?”
He smiled a little. It wasn’t a pleasant smile. “I don’t issue out warnings.”
“No?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I have expectations of my people, and they are to do what is expected of them.”
“And you would fire them if they don’t?”
He hesitated, making me feel like a child who had just asked a stupid question that had an obvious answer. Firing people was a mercy rarely ever afforded in Massimo’s world. I knew that. I looked away from him, wondering how I was going to get out of this conversation, when I felt his fingers under my chin. He turned me around until I was looking back at him.
“That’s not something you have to worry about.”
I nodded, unable to voice the question I really wanted the answer to. What would happen to me if I didn’t meet your expectations?
He looked past me and took in what Elena had referred to as my mess, frowning a bit. “What are you doing?”
I followed his gaze. “I was making you breakfast.”
“You know how to cook?” he asked, sounding skeptical. I didn’t blame him. I had burnt most of the food. I didn’t know how to cook. Mom didn’t think it was an appropriate skill for any of her daughters to learn, even though I had always wanted to. I tried to learn by observing some of the kitchen staff back home, but obviously, that didn’t result in anything, considering I had been fumbling around all morning trying to make a decent breakfast, and all it amounted to was crisped burnt potatoes.
And Massimo just fired his cook.
Because of me.
What were we going to eat for dinner tonight?
The thought was almost too horrible to contemplate.
When I didn’t answer him, he pushed away from the kitchen island, taking me with him and startling me by the move.
“Come on,” he said.
“Where are we going?”
“To have breakfast.”
I looked down at my feet as he pulled me out of there, his hand wrapped around mine, warm and dry.
“I’m sorry,” I said miserably.
He turned to me, and I nearly stuttered in my steps over the glint in his green eyes.
“What do you have to be sorry for?” he asked.
“We don’t have breakfast at home because of me,” I answered quietly. “We won’t have any home-cooked meals for a while.”
How had I managed to ruin what was supposed to be an idyllic morning?
“That’s what you’re worried about?” Massimo asked mildly. Sometimes, I wished he was as emotional as Andre. I never had to guess what mood Andre was in. Even if my stepfather was more prone to fly off the handle at a moment’s notice, it somehow felt safer for me than Massimo’s perpetual calmness.
I shrugged, not really knowing how to answer him.
He didn’t say anything to me until we were in his car. I sat in the passenger’s side, trying to make myself as small as possible as Massimo started the sleek black car that I didn’t know the name of, but I was sure probably cost as much as a regular person’s house.
I forced myself to relax when Massimo turned to me.
“I don’t care about not having breakfast in the house. I meant to take you out to see Las Vegas, but things have been… busy . Now is as good a time as any to see what the city has to offer, no?”
“Besides dry air and blistering heat?” I asked, my lips twisting slightly at my joke. I was getting too comfortable with Massimo for my own good.
The image of him taking me in our bed two mornings ago, of him touching me, drawing out my pleasure, had my cheeks flushing. It was hard not to get comfortable with the man, at least to some extent, when he touched me so intimately. When he had seen a side of me no one else had before.
Massimo matched my smile. “Yes, darling. Besides that.”
I nodded and turned to look out the window as Massimo pulled away from the property. We didn’t talk on the drive over to the restaurant. I was too busy taking in all the new sights. With all the people and feeling so inadequate, a small knot started to form in the pit of my stomach. Should Massimo be with someone a little less… me ? Someone worldly. At least someone who had seen more of the world than Chicago.
I looked down at my lap, no longer wanting to take in the newness of the city. My feelings toward Massimo were nothing more than a confusing mess I didn’t want to think too much about.
It didn’t help that when he touched me, I didn’t hate it like I was supposed to. Like I thought I would, considering all the gossip I had heard over the years from the mob wives back home—how they absolutely loathed their husbands’ touch but had no choice but to endure.
I thought I would be the same.
I would have to endure Massimo’s touch, not crave it.
A heavy hand landed on my thigh. I looked up to see Massimo watching me as he pulled up to a stop at a light.
“What is going on in that head of yours?” he asked.
I wondered if he was actually expecting an answer. He wouldn’t really want to know. Husbands didn’t usually want to hear about their wives’ turmoil.
“That bad, huh?” he said. I didn’t realize I was grimacing until he said it. I quickly forced myself to relax my facial muscles. One eyebrow rose at that, and it looked like he wanted to say something more until the car behind us honked. I jumped from the sound, and Massimo frowned at the car through the rearview mirror.
“The light’s changed,” I said.
He shook his head and finally drove off, keeping his eyes on the road. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. The rest of the drive was thankfully quick, if a little tense. Though it seemed only I felt tension. Massimo was a picture of ease.
He pulled up to a small restaurant on the corner of a busy street bustling with tourists. I looked over at the building. The glass windows were a shiny onyx color that reflected the outside and showed nothing of the inside. The roof was slanted to the left. The restaurant was wider than it was tall. In front, a valet stand housed two men wearing dark-blue suits despite the heat.
They came up to my side of the car and opened it for me.
“Ma’am,” a man about my age greeted with a smile, showing off a straight row of white teeth. He held out his hand for me. I was about to take it when Massimo moved smoothly over, taking the man’s place.
“I got her,” he said. I watched as the valet man nodded and gave us room. Massimo held out his hand for me. Slowly, I placed mine in his, feeling the warm, dry skin that encompassed my hand just as he pulled me out of the car.
The roughness of his palm brought back the memory of him touching me like this not so long ago in a much more intimate way. Butterflies fluttered over my insides as he pulled me close to his side.
He pressed his lips against my temple, whispering softly, “Don’t let other men touch you.”
I stuttered in my steps in surprise at his words, my eyes moving over to green ones. He pulled me closer to him to steady me.
“He didn’t mean anything by it,” I muttered.
“Still. I don’t want other men to touch what’s mine, and you, little darling wife, are mine in every irrevocable way possible.”
He sounded so possessive when he spoke, I didn’t know what to make of it. Even Andre never sounded this possessive over Mom.
I couldn’t decide whether this possessiveness would keep me safe from all the other monsters in this world or ruin me.
We got inside the restaurant before I could respond. It wasn’t as busy as I thought, but it was busy enough. It seemed everyone stopped what they were doing for a glimpse of Massimo. And I didn’t blame them.
There was something so intimidating and fascinating about his very presence, putting anyone nearby in a chokehold, that they just didn’t know what to do with themselves.
The hostess came up to us right away, her glinting eyes and flushing cheeks a familiar sight only because I recognized the look on my own face. It was the same face I wore when I looked at Massimo. Equal parts fear and admiration.
And how I hated the sight of another woman looking at my husband that way.
My hand clenched around Massimo’s just as the hostess said, “Mr. De Luca. Welcome back. How many for your party?”
Massimo shot me a look, and I forced my grip to relax. Would it be childish of me to let go of his hand? My muscles flexed from the thought as Massimo answered the pretty hostess.
“Just for two.”
The hostess finally turned her eyes to me, a strange look crossing her face before she plastered on a fake smile.
“Right this way.”
It was obvious Massimo frequented the place often and was probably an important guest to them, considering the hostess took us to our seats right away, located in a little alcove in the back. It created a nice illusion of privacy, even as I felt eyes on us the entire way there.
“Your waitress will be with you soon,” the hostess said, lingering a bit as her eyes practically ate up Massimo’s huge frame before she walked away.
Massimo pulled a chair out for me. I sat without a word, bringing my gaze down to the cream-colored menu as Massimo took a seat across from me at the small round table.
I could feel his eyes on me. I pretended not to notice.
“What’s wrong?” Massimo asked.
“Nothing,” I answered, wincing slightly at the petulance in my voice.
Massimo didn’t say anything right away. Then, “Will you look at me? Please?”
Slowly, I turned my gaze to him. His face held the same expressionless feature. Why couldn’t I be like that? I thought I was better at hiding my emotions than this, and I swore I had been back in Chicago.
What was he doing to me?
“What’s wrong?” he asked again. Before I could answer, he said, “And before you say nothing , just know I don’t like being lied to.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “You expect honesty from me?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Can I expect the same from you?”
He didn’t answer right away. His finger tapped once, twice on the table. “You know there are certain aspects about my job that I can’t disclose.”
I shook my head. “I know that. You could just say you can’t say. But when it comes to everything else… When it comes to us… can I expect you to be honest?”
A slight twist of his lips told me he was amused. Problem was, I didn’t know if he was laughing at me—at my own naivety for even suggesting something like that to him—or something else.
“Not so meek,” he said softly, so softly, I almost didn’t hear him. I frowned. Did he think I was meek before? I supposed I had been acting meek in front of him, though I hadn’t wanted to think of myself as such. It was just what I did to survive. And survived I had, with little lasting damage, so I thought I had been doing a pretty good job. But to hear Massimo thinking of me as meek… something heavy settled in the pit of my stomach. The server chose that moment to come by.
I hadn’t even had the chance to see what was on the menu. I looked at Massimo helplessly, feeling a little better when he started to order for us—salmon on toasted bagels for me, a classic omelet for him, and two glasses of orange juice.
Massimo turned his attention back to me once the server left.
“Yes,” he said. “You can expect the same from me—as honest as I can be.”
I blinked. I hadn’t expected him to say that.
His smile widened. “You seem surprised.”
“Most men in your position wouldn’t have agreed.”
“Most men? You have it on good authority what other men in my position would and wouldn’t do?”
I blushed. He had me there. He was the first and only man I would know like this.
“Andre—”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t compare me to Andre Lombardi.” There was almost a curl of his lips to show his disgust over the fact.
I shut my mouth. Had I been doing that? Not out loud, but perhaps in thought?
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
He waved my apology away.
I shifted in my seat, feeling uneasy. I had been unfair to Massimo. He was nothing like the men I grew up seeing.
“We will be honest with each other,” I said.
He nodded, satisfied. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”
It wasn’t a question but a demand. But after our conversation, I felt silly bringing up my insecurity.
“I—” I took a deep breath. “What do you think this marriage will be like?”
He tilted his head off to the side slightly.
“I mean, what you said outside… about not letting other men touch me because I’m yours?—”
“You are mine. And let’s get something straight. I don’t share, principessa . If you don’t want the blood of other men on your hands, don’t ever go near any of them.”
Don’t go near any other men?
That sounded ridiculous. Surely, he was kidding. But then I got a good look at his face. He looked dead serious.
“Does the same rule apply to you?”
“You don’t want me to go near other women?”
“Well, that would just be ridiculous,” I quipped. One side of his lips lifted in a ghost of a smile. “I don’t want to share you with anyone else.”
And if to help prove my point, our hostess chose that moment to come by, her eyes directly on Massimo.
“Did you need anything, Mr. De Luca?”
I slumped in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest protectively. Massimo watched me the entire time, understanding moving through his eyes.
“I don’t,” Massimo answered, his voice suddenly cold while keeping his eyes on me. They softened, along with his voice, when he asked, “What about you, darling? Do you need anything?”
I shook my head as the hostess sputtered out something I didn’t bother listening to before walking away.
“You won’t share me,” he said when it was just us once more.
And how badly I wanted to believe him. But made men were notorious for being unfaithful. Even Andre had cheated. Several times that I knew of… that Mom knew of, not that she would have said anything to him. She just accepted it as a part of her life. All the while, she remained blindly faithful to him.
I bit my lip.
“I’m a man of my word. Remember what we agreed on? Complete honesty.”
“Do you promise?” I asked, expecting some annoyance from him over my insecurity.
Instead, he answered impassively, “I promise.”
I held out my pinkie. A silly thing to do, I realized the moment I’d done it. He looked down at my hand as if he didn’t know what to do.
My face flushed, and I was about to pull back when I felt his pinkie twist around mine.
He didn’t say anything, and neither did I, wondering why the air in the room felt like it had shifted, pressing down on me and making it hard to breathe.
I pulled away when the server came by with our plates, breaking the spell. I looked down at my lap as the food was placed in front of me. We said nothing when the server left, and I mindlessly chewed on the bagel, trying and failing to dissect all the conversations we had before.
“What are you thinking about?” Massimo asked as I brought the fork to my mouth. I took a bite of the salmon and chewed slowly before I answered him.
“You’re different from what I was expecting.”
“You mean nothing like the rumors?”
I shrugged. Surely, he knew what was being said about him. If anything, I was sure he did nothing to stop them.
“I don’t believe in bringing my work home. Things would be different for us, just as it would be different for me outside of our home. My brothers know this distinction, although I sometimes think they test my limits just for the fun of it. They are nothing if not annoying.”
I smiled a little at that. Even when he was insulting his brothers, there was a fondness in his voice that was hard to miss.
I took another bite of my food, contemplating what he said. If what he said was true, then I had nothing to fear from him.
My eyes moved up to look at him before I quickly looked away when I realized he was staring at me.
I couldn’t imagine there would be a time when I didn’t fear him, even if it was just a little.
“How did you think this marriage was going to go?” Massimo asked, grabbing the glass of juice in front of him and taking a small sip.
“I haven’t really thought about it.”
And that was the truth. I always assumed the marriage would go as Massimo dictated, and I would have little say, so there was no point in thinking about how I might have wanted it to go.
“How did you think this marriage was going to go?” I asked him back.
Another small smile touched his lips. It shouldn’t make me feel like I had won something whenever he smiled at me, but Lord, it did.
“I haven’t really thought about it. I haven’t really thought much about marriage, to be honest.”
He grabbed my hand and turned it on the table so that my palm was facing up toward the ceiling. His fingers gently glided across the skin there before reaching down to my wrist. My pulse jumped from the contact.
“But we are married. Why not make the best of this situation?”
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly that.” He pressed his palm down on mine, and the heavy weight of his hand helped keep me focused on the present. “Do you like it when I touch you?”
The turn of the question was so abrupt that it took me a moment to fully realize what he had asked. When I did, I could feel my cheeks reddening.
“W-What?”
His eyes glinted with dark amusement. “I know you heard me, principessa .”
I grabbed a glass of water and took a sip, delaying answering him. How did he expect me to answer a question like that?
I placed the glass down slowly and took in Massimo. He was a picture of ease.
“It’s a simple question, principessa .”
Easy for him to say. I nodded, my cheeks feeling tight.
Another tap of his finger on the table drew my attention to it. I took in the shape, the huge masculine form of his fingers, his short nails, tan skin, and even the hair around his fingers.
“You want to try something different? Something to help with your shyness around me?”
“Something different?”
He nodded, his eyes taking on a dark, hungry look that I was getting familiar with.
“Give me control.”
My breath caught. “Control? Is that what you want?”
That shouldn’t surprise me. I’d gotten a glimpse of it every so often.
“Yes,” he answered measuredly. “But only if you trust me enough to give it. To know I wouldn’t push you past what you can handle.”
He was giving me an option? I blinked. “And if I say I’m not there yet?”
He shot me a devilish smile. “Then it would be my privilege to show you that you can. No matter how long that takes.”
“Even years?”
He grimaced. “Even then, though, I hope it wouldn’t take that long. Do you really have that low of an opinion of me that you think you wouldn’t be able to trust me for years to come?”
He had a point. And I didn’t have a low opinion of him at all. He had actually treated me far kinder than anyone I had ever met.
“And what would it entail? Me giving you control?”
“Everything. I would decide everything. When and where we sleep. What you wear. When we would be intimate. How I want you to touch me.” His voice turned sensual. “How I would touch you.”
“I don’t get a say?”
“You always get a say, principessa . You decide how long you want to give me that beautiful control of yours. Hell, even when you want to put a pause on it. It would be up to you. You would essentially be the one with all the power, and I would be nothing more than your willing servant.”
I shot him a look.
I would be the one with the power? I couldn’t imagine anyone ever having any power over Massimo. He wasn’t known as the King of Las Vegas for nothing.
He reached over and cupped my cheek. “What do you say? Do you want to try this with me?”
I licked my lips, suddenly feeling parched. But I had already taken a drink from my glass. And Massimo was expecting an answer.
And… And…
I nodded.
His eyes glimmered in satisfaction, bringing with it the horde of butterflies I had been feeling in my stomach. I squirmed in my seat, somehow feeling like I had just made a deal with the devil, and yet, I couldn’t find it in me to feel even an ounce of regret.
What had I done?