Chapter 22 Livia
Istand before the full-length mirror, admiring my reflection in the daring dress I've chosen for the evening.
The black satin clings to my curves, the plunging neckline showcasing my ample cleavage.
The girls are on full display for Enzo. I run my hands over the fabric, smoothing it against my hips, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness flutter in my stomach.
The dress is a statement—one that almost signifies my embracing of this new life.
I smirk to myself because it feels like just days ago, I was railing against this arrangement, determined to resist at every turn.
Now, not only are we fucking, but I'm dressing up for him, eager to see his eyes fill with primal, undeniable lust once he sees me.
I turn to each side, giving myself a once-over. The dress leaves little to the imagination, hugging every curve and dip of my body. It's a far cry from the modest outfits I used to wear for academic conferences.
"What would Dr. Hawkins think if he saw me now?" I murmur to my reflection, a wry smile curving my lips.
My hand drifts to the skull pendant resting between my breasts. I've kept it on, a small reminder of who I was, or rather who I still am, beneath this glamorous exterior. The macabre charm against the elegant dress feels oddly fitting, and well, oddly me.
I spin, watching how the dress moves with me. The back is nearly non-existent, my olive skin exposed from my shoulder blades to the small of my back. I imagine Enzo's hands there, warm and possessive, and feel a rush of heat to my core.
I've paired the dress with sky-high stilettos that make my legs look a mile long. They're not the most comfortable, but the way they shape my calves and make my ass look is worth the discomfort.
As I apply a final coat of deep red lipstick, I catch my own gaze in the mirror. There's a fire in my eyes that I don't recognize—a mix of desire, anticipation, and something darker. Something that whispers of power and danger.
I take a deep breath and collect myself. As I do, a thought creeps into my mind.
You're playing with fire.
But as I imagine Enzo's reaction and his embrace, I can't bring myself to care.
Then let me burn.
A sudden knock at the door interrupts my thoughts. "Livia, Mr. Bonventi requests your presence downstairs," Marcella's voice calls out.
I exhale slowly. "Tell him I'll be right down."
When I get downstairs, I spot him standing in the foyer, immaculately dressed as always in his slim-fitted suit, though his arms look bigger and more muscular this time.
His eyes light up as he sees me, a smile spreading across his face. I fight the urge to flash a huge smile, instead offering him a little coy, sexy smirk.
"My God, you look stunning, cara mia," he says, his voice low and smooth like honey. He steps closer, his hand grazing the small of my back, as he kisses my cheek.
"Thank you," I reply. "You look very handsome as well."
Enzo laughs and bends his arm for me to slide my hand through, "Shall we?"
As we walk outside to the waiting car, he turns and looks down at me, "You're absolutely beautiful, Livia."
We settle into the back of Enzo's black car, one I haven't seen before. The seats are like recliners, with wooden tables and a curtain hiding us from the driver.
"Wow, this is pretty nice," I say as I take everything in.
"Well, I only use Rolls Royce on very special occasions."
The car makes its way into the city, and Chicago's lights are a blur as we pass. We're in silence for a bit, and I find myself stealing glances at Enzo. His profile is sharp, his expression unreadable. I wonder what thoughts are swirling behind those piercing blue eyes of his.
"Is everything alright?" he asks, catching me staring.
I offer him a small smile. "Just taking it all in. This is all so new to me."
Enzo's hand finds mine, his fingers intertwining with my own. "I know it must be overwhelming. But I promise, I will keep you safe. You are mine now, Livia, and I protect what is mine."
I nod, unable to find the right words to express the range of emotions swirling within me.
Soon the car comes to a stop, and Enzo gives my hand a gentle squeeze. "We're here."
As he helps me out of the car, I look up and read the sign. "La Sfera Nera," I say to Enzo, the name sounding ominous.
"It means the black sphere, you'll see why."
Enzo's hand finds the small of my back and guides me inside. As we enter, he turns to me and whispers, "Welcome to the heart of the Bonventi empire."
As we step into La Sfera Nera, I'm left surprised. The unassuming exterior gives way to a luxury restaurant.
The first thing I smell is the rich aroma of Italian cuisine mingling with aged whiskey and what I would assume are the finest wines from Tuscany.
The domed ceiling arches high above us, adorned with intricate frescoes that seem to dance in the soft, flickering light of the candles. At the center of it all hangs an enormous wrought-iron sphere, its black surface reflecting pinpricks of light like a starry night sky.
Now I understand the name.
There's dark wood paneling all around and plush leather armchairs and booths. The occupants engaged in hushed conversations.
The patrons look fancy, and I suddenly feel out of place, a mere graduate student in a world of powerful brokers and mobsters. Enzo leads me deeper into the restaurant, his hand never leaving the small of my back.
A ma?tre d' approaches us, greeting Enzo in an almost nervous way. "Mr. Bonventi, your usual table is ready."
Enzo flashes the man a charming smile. "Excellent. Lead the way."
As we walk, I lean over to Enzo. "Quite the crowd tonight," I say, trying to mask my nervousness.
He leans in close, his breath warm against my ear. "I told them my beautiful fiancée was joining me."
I giggle and blush at the same time. Ironically, it helps me relax.
The ma?tre d' leads us away from the main dining area, down a corridor lined with artwork that looks valuable enough to fund a small country. We pass several closed doors before stopping at one at the end of the hall.
The ma?tre d' opens it with gusto, revealing a private dining room that's absolutely beautiful. A single table sits in the center, draped in deep red silk. A crystal chandelier hangs above, casting a soft, romantic glow.
"Your table, Mr. Bonventi," the ma?tre d' says, pulling out a chair for me.
Enzo gestures for me to sit, his eyes never leaving my face. "Thank you, Emilio."
I perch on the edge of the chair, my fingers gripping the armrests as Enzo takes the seat across from me. Emilio discreetly steps away, leaving us alone in the intimate space.
I clear my throat. "This place is impressive."
Enzo shows a slight smile. "I'm glad you approve," he says in a low tone, and takes my hand, "You look absolutely breathtaking tonight, by the way."
I feel heat rise to my cheeks at his compliment. "You clean up rather nicely yourself."
"I'm only decent when you're on my arm," he says.
"So," I say, trying to change the subject as I'm not good with compliments, "Is this where you bring all your fiancées?"
Enzo laughs.
"So yes?" I press him, smiling.
He shakes his head, "No, no. If I could be honest with you, I've never taken another women here."
"Mmmhmm," I say as a waiter comes and pours wine for each of us.
Enzo raises his glass, and I meet it with mine, a subtle clink from our tap.
"Which is ironic, seeing as I own it."
I go to take a sip of wine and then stop, "Wait. What?"
He gives me a devilish smile, "Well, me and my brothers."
I roll my eyes and finally take a sip, "You just have everything, don't you."
"Well, I'm pretty good at getting what I want."
"Is that so?" I ask, placing my glass down, "And what do you want the most, right now?"
He leans in and stares at me. "Truthfully?" he asks.
"Uh-huh," I say and smile.
"You, with a lot less clothes on, laying on all—"
He's cut off by the waiter who places a basket of bread down on the table.
"Good evening. Have you had time to look over the menu?"
Enzo's eyes linger on me for a second so seductively, I get that phrase 'eye fucking' now.
"I'll order for us," he says without looking away from me.
I nod.
"I'll have Fra Diavolo, with linguini and shrimp, and the beautiful lady will have Spaghetti aglio e olio."
"Excellent choices, Mr. Bonventi. Anything else?"
"Maybe another bottle of wine."
"Very well," the waiter says and removes the unopened menus from the table, "I will bring that to your table now."
"You pay attention to everything, don't you?" I ask before taking a sip of wine.
"What do you mean?"
"The dish you ordered for me, that's been my favorite since we started our nightly dinners."
"I had no idea," Enzo says with a smirk.
The waiter returns with the bottle and leaves it on the table.
"Is it a trait of yours to always be watching?" I ask.
"I think so. I've had to always read the room, so to say, for business and whatnot. My brothers tell me I try to control too much and make conclusions about people, but," he says, taking a sip, "it's saved our asses on more than one occasion, so there's that."
"And what were your conclusions about me when we first met?"
He laughs.
"That's an interesting question."
"Why is that?"
"Well," he says, leaning forward and taking my hand, "When I first meet people, I'm pretty good at figuring them out, you know, placing them in this box and almost expecting their actions. You, you were much different."
"Well, I am different than most."
He shakes his head. "When I first met you, I had a different mentality about all this.
Make no mistake about it, though, I thought you were beautiful.
I mean, look at you, cara mia," he says, caressing my hand.
"Not just now, but even on your worst day, you'd be the muse Michelangelo would use to build a statue of Venus. "
I feel my face get warm, and now without a doubt, I'm blushing.