Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
Remi
“Look at you. Taking my cock so well.” Angelo rolls his hips, causing my eyes to roll back into my head. I woke up this morning with my arms secured above my head with his belt.
Not maybe; I’m soooo into this.
“Faster,” I whimper. “I’m so close.”
He tsks, stilling his movement. “Remi. Remi. What have I told you? I decide when you come.”
“Decide quickly. I’m stealing the mayor’s phone this morning,” I remind him.
“He wants what’s mine.” Angelo thrusts his hips hard enough that tears well in my eyes.
“Your family’s empire?” I moan, the now familiar pleasure tugging deep in my core.
“You.” He growls, thrusting harder. “He wants you. Do you know how homicidal that makes me?”
This time, he thrusts with enough force that it knocks my head into the headboard. “Oww.”
Grabbing me by the hips, he jerks my body down the bed. My arms being pulled taught over my head, Angelo begins fucking me relentlessly.
“I need the ability to walk,” I remind him on a moan.
“You’re right.” He slows his rhythm, circling his hips.
“Mmm, I like that, and before you ask, I like both.”
He chuckles, serenading me in Italian with each roll of his hips. They could be sweet words; they could be filthy words. Either way, my pussy begins to clench uncontrollably as I fall off the cliff. “Oh my God, Angelo, Yes!”
His movement falters, and on a groan, he empties himself inside me.
Angelo pulls out and unbinds me, pressing a gentle kiss to where the belt has left indentations on my wrists. I’m tucked into his arms, and I settle into the crook of his neck. The perfect place to be held hostage, actually.
“Don’t close your eyes. We need to get moving,” he tells me.
“You’re no fun.” I pout, forcing my satiated eyes open.
“I would agree with you, but then a little pick?—”
“Don’t say it. I need a new nickname, remember?”
He cups my cheeks in his hands. With his typical Angelo Calvani intensity, he tells me, “Get me the mayor’s phone, Remi, so I can put this to bed.”
“I’ve got this,” I assure him, giving him a quick peck.
Angelo scoots out of bed and walks around to my side. I squeal as he scoops me up and playfully tosses me over his shoulder. Carrying me to the bathroom, he deposits me on my feet, turning on the shower.
“Your bathroom is no longer organized within an inch of its life. How does that make you feel?” I say in my best therapist voice. My things are haphazardly tossed on the counter and in the shower; his few items are all lined up in a neat and orderly row.
“That his and her vanities will serve us best,” he announces with a thinly veiled grimace, and I giggle.
“You need more bronzer,” Alessandra decides, dusting more on my exposed chest with a brush.
I blink rapidly, trying to get used to the feel of contacts as I examine myself in the mirror. My face is hidden beneath a full mask. My hair, covered with a black wig. My gown, floor length, hides my outrageously tall chunky platform boots. My breasts and hips, smooshed and wrapped like a mummy.
“What do you think? Am I Alessandra-coded?” I say in my best imitation of an Italian meets sort of Cajun, sort of Southern accent.
“Is that how I sound?” Alessandra wonders, moving the brush to the top of my pale hands.
“My best shot at it. Why? No good?”
“It’s not that. It’s just I didn’t realize I sounded so damn cornbread.” She blanches.
“Things between your brothers sound complicated,” I say gently.
“Complicated.” She snorts. “That’s one way to put it.”
“It may not look like it from where you’re standing, but Angelo really is trying his best.”
“Maybe I’ll whack them both and take over the family.” She tosses the brush in her makeup bag. “That’d be a hell of a plot twist.”
“I can’t tell if you’re joking.”
Alessandra shrugs.
“Sometimes you kind of freak me out,” I admit.
“Thanks,” she says.
“Um, yeah. Well, I’m going to steal the mayor’s phone and stay out of the Mississippi. Watch Nola for me, will you?”
“You got it. We’ll serial killer documentary and chill.”
“That’s not what Nola needs, getting any ideas,” I warn.
“She left a dead mouse on the back door yesterday; I’d say she already has ideas,” Alessandra informs me.
“That’s different,” I argue. “She’s not?—”
“Killing for sport? She toyed with the mouse for like an hour before she killed it.”
“No serial killer documentaries for Nola,” I say firmly. The rest, I’m not going to think about as I walk down the hallway in search of Angelo.
“I’m ready, your majesty,” I tell him with a little curtsey. “And you,” I say, picking up Nola and giving her a cuddle. “You wouldn’t torture a mouse, would you?”
“Plead the Fifth, Nola,” Angelo advises.
Maks appears, and he gets me wired and camera’ed up. “No duke man,” he reminds me.
“I’m a cannon; I’ve got this,” I say resolutely.
Angelo closes the distance between us and presses a kiss to my lips. He pulls back quickly with a scowl. “You will never impersonate my sister again.”
“Agreed.”