Chapter 32 Carlo
Carlo
“How serious is Arturo Morelli's illness?" I ask the men assembled in my office the following night.
No one knows for certain, but we know Nico is taking over the role of Capo in his territory from his father, more and more. Just as I am for mine.
"Alright, are the rumors true about the split between the Cold Moon Disciples and the Bratva?"
“Sì, the MCs are looking to buy their drugs elsewhere," Luca answers. "More money for us and less for the Bratva."
"You can't trust bikers," Faro warns.
"Agreed, but a casual chat can't hurt. Luca, your love of your motorcycle will come in handy, I think." My brother nods, and I turn to Ettore, our most talented tech guy. "Do you think you can hack into-"
"Can we watch the fight?" Renato interrupts.
The room falls silent, and the boy quickly lowers his eyes when I coldly drawl, "Be my guest."
In truth though, I'm only mildly annoyed. I may have sat through meetings five times as long when I was his age, but that's because Father was drilling duty into me by the time I could walk. Renato will learn patience… eventually.
I direct Ettore to log us into the Darknet footage of the latest illegal cage fight.
The large screen hanging on the wall comes to life, and the focus shifts there.
"I've heard Dante has been in Italy a good deal recently," Luca comments as we watch the younger Morelli brother earn his streetfighter nickname of the Beast.
"I've heard the same." Not that it's my worry. Nico can deal with his brother. I've got two of my own to keep tabs on.
"I've got a little more info on Ronan Donnelly." Russo looks around before continuing. "Or should we not discuss that here?"
"My office is soundproofed," I answer before reconsidering. "But… Perhaps we'll address that later."
"Holy shit, did you see that?" Renato gasps as Morelli delivers his final savage blow on the screen.
"He just broke his opponent's spine," Faro responds in a bored tone.
Renato's eyes boggle. “Carlo, once you're Don, if you'd consider holding fights like that here, I'd like to-"
"No. We train to fight our enemies, not so we can destroy pussies looking to prove something while other pussies sit around cheering.
" Luca exchanges a look with Renato, and I suspect he agrees with the kid's idea.
I glance at Faro who shakes his head, siding with me.
"When you fight a man for real, it's an advantage if he doesn't know what you're capable of. "
Renato nods, but I'm not sure if he understands.
While the carnage on screen is being cleared up, my office door opens unexpectedly, and Francesca walks in. Jumping to my feet, I note her heavy eyelids and the lovely little nothing she's wearing. My cock twitches. Fuck.
"I had a bad dream, and you weren't…" Her mouth snaps shut, and her eyes widen when she sees all the men in my office.
"Get the fuck out," I bark.
Startled, Francesca starts to back away.
"Not you, mia moglie," I clarify, dragging her against me.
"You heard him – out!" Luca shouts at the others, ushering them along while Renato winks at her, the little fucker.
Her pulse is racing once the penthouse is quiet again. "I'm sorry-"
I stop her words with a kiss. "Never apologize for coming to find me. Do you want me to hold you while we talk about your dream?"
Her cheeks are pink when she shakes her head. "No, I wanted…" Her eyes drift to my open laptop. "It's late for business, isn't it?"
Pulling her toward my desk, I close the laptop and turn off the TV. "It's not a nine to five sort of job. What can I do to make the bad dream better, Red?"
Her flush deepens. "I thought you could… distract me."
That little smile and her words sink in, making my heart leap. Lifting her up with one arm, I use the other to sweep my desk off. "What are you doing?!" she cries when my laptop hits the floor.
"My office needs redecorating." She giggles as I set her on top of it and slide the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders but whimpers when I capture a tight nipple between my teeth and move my hand up her thighs.
"I interrupted business," she murmurs.
"I don't fucking care."
She grasps my necktie, her eyes burning with lust when she whispers, "Maybe I need to be punished for interrupting."
Fucking hell.
"It's time we establish some rules about my office, wife," I say, using the same commanding tone I'd use with my soldiers as I tear my belt off. I lick her throat before ripping her nightgown in two. She shivers under my gaze, her pupils blown with desire. "Turn around and bend over the desk."
She gasps as her bare breasts meet the cool, unyielding wood.
Then, she grips the edge of my desk, her breath coming in quick pants when I caress her gorgeous ass with the belt, but I soon drop it.
"Count," I tell her before smacking her butt with the palm of my hand.
By the time she's said 'three,' her pussy lips are glistening, my naughty little siren.
Both cheeks are a rosy pink when I speak again. "I'm going to fuck you hard for interrupting my meeting, Francesca. But first, I want your pussy and your ass. If that's what you want, too."
She quickly nods, and I lean over her, pressing my body against hers. My thumb swipes through her arousal, and I rub it over her tight back hole. Her breath hitches as I push inward and two fingers do the same with her pussy. "Can you take three, I wonder? Spread your legs wider."
She does, practically thrumming with anticipation, and she groans when I kneel, letting my tongue explore her there instead as my fingers pump in and out of her pussy.
"You're my bad girl tonight it seems but, as I once told you, I'll enjoy either version of you.
" I smack her ass once more before tonguing her again.
Finding her sweet spot, I relish her surrender when it overwhelms her.
"Scream, mia moglie. Even if my men were right outside, no one can hear you in here.
" She does, calling my name out loudly in her melodious voice, almost like a song.
Sagging and boneless on the desk, she needs my help to turn onto her back.
Her breasts are red from rubbing against the wood, and her nipples are tight, waiting for me to taste them and mark them, too.
I lean over her again, my teeth scraping her throat.
"I love corrupting you," I tell her. She grins, that wickedly sweet smile that pierces my darkness like nothing else.
"I want you to come over every inch of this desk.
That way, every time I'm in here working, I'll be able to smell your pretty cunt and remember tonight. "
***
Francesca is showering while I shave a few mornings later, talking ninety miles a minute about her upcoming first day of classes.
Smiling to myself, I enjoy her chatter even if part of me would love to join her in the shower…
and fuck her against the tiled wall. I promise to be home early so she can tell me all about her day over dinner.
As she's toweling off, I make a point of handing her the wedding band and engagement ring. She'll be among strangers today, out of this penthouse, and the extra security measure eases my concerns on that front… and my concerns that she might try to disappear from the school like her cousin did.
“I'd like to invite your sisters over one afternoon. I ordered a garden box for the terrace. Maybe I could tempt Anna and Bianca into giving planting a try with me and Giulia. The girls should have some activities they share.”
Garden box? My sisters all digging in the dirt together instead of squabbling? “Anna might agree to join you but Bianca-”
“Oh, I'm sure she doesn’t think she likes getting her hands dirty, but we could do manicures or something afterwards.”
I stare at my wife’s reflection in the mirror wondering where the hell she came up with all this. “Giulia is only seven. She doesn’t need a-”
“No one needs a manicure, Carlo,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Have you ever had one?”
I’m tempted to roll my eyes back at her. “When you said you wanted to get to know my sisters better, I didn’t imagine you meant babysitting.”
“It wouldn't be babysitting. It would be girl time.”
She mentioned missing Caterina and her cousin, and I do want my sisters and Francesca to get along. On the other hand, I have my reservations. Might she try to manipulate me through the girls somehow?
"We can consider it at some point. For now, you need to get ready for school."
Her smile dims, making me regret my refusal before she speaks again. "I barely see Luca at all even though he lives one floor below us. Does he stay over at his girlfriend's place in the evenings?”
“He doesn’t have a girlfriend.”
“Dinora says he does.”
Ah, Dinora. Of course, my wife is making friends with her and finding out more about the family that way, no doubt.
“I’m afraid she’s mistaken about my brother.
” What I won’t tell Francesca is my brother enjoys fucking the lonely wives of a few businessmen and politicians we deal with, but he wouldn’t describe any of them as a girlfriend.
While she gets dressed, I head downstairs to find Dinora.
She’s an excellent cook which was part of the reason I asked Father if I could take her on as my maid when I moved out years ago, but she also watched over me and my brothers when we were small.
Thus, she has a different standing in our family than a typical servant.
As expected, Dinora’s in the kitchen, preparing savory sausages, fluffy pancakes and fresh fruit. “I don’t have time for a large breakfast today.” I grab a fork to pierce one of the sausages sizzling in the skillet.
“Those aren’t cooked through yet,” Dinora tuts at me.
I raise an eyebrow, and she returns to flipping pancakes.
“This is for your wife, to prepare her for her first day of class. Though I don’t know why a Don's wife needs college when she will have social responsibilities and babies to care for soon.”
“Dinora,” I say in warning. That my wife started taking the pill is no more the maid’s business than whether or not she attends college.
As Francesca is coming down the stairs, Dinora switches to Italian. “She will be around college boys all day. Will they treat her with the appropriate level of respect?”
If any are foolish enough not to, they’ll soon meet my monstrous side. “Finish the sausages. I want some with my coffee,” I clip when my wife approaches us.
Ignoring the sausages, Dinora encourages Francesca to take a seat, bustling over with coffee, pancakes and fruit, fawning all over her… which is precisely what my wife deserves.
“Did you argue?” Francesca whispers worriedly once Dinora returns to the sausages.
“She occasionally needs to be reminded talking back isn’t allowed.”
“Even though she used to kiss your boo-boos when you were little?”
“Christ, what else has she shared?” I mutter, sipping my coffee.
“Plenty,” she answers with a playful grin. “And I talk back to you.”
Shaking my head, I take her hand in mine, ignoring Dinora’s smirk when she returns with the sausages, and tell Francesca, “Only you have that privilege now, mia moglie.”