The Proposal

15. Dante

Chapter 15

Dante

E doardo returned from Sydney days ago and hasn’t said a single word about his ransacked house, which only increases my suspicions.

The Cosa Nostra is family, first and foremost, so if something like this had happened to any of my other men, they would’ve approached me and asked for help, at the very least.

He has a duty to alert the Famiglia if there is a personal attack against him because it could be something bigger and affect all of us.

If he doesn’t suspect I have something to do with it, who does he think it was? He’s been normal around me, jovial even, so it makes me wonder who else this man is in bed with. Does his betrayal run even deeper than I thought?

My men are coming over soon for breakfast and a meeting, but I’ve asked Romeo to get here early so I can get an update and hopefully discuss our next move.

I enter the kitchen, grasping Lucia’s shoulder and gently squeezing as I pass. “Morning, little sis,” I say.

Growing up, I always wished for a sister. I adored my brother but hated being the baby of the family, the one he always looked out for and protected. I wanted a role like that too. A sister would’ve given me that, and now I have two: Chloe, Alexander’s wife, and Lucia.

She glances up from the book she’s reading and smiles. “Morning, Dante.”

“How are the salami sticks going?”

“So good,” she breathes, her eyes returning to the pages.

I chuckle as I approach my wife. Lucia is returning to Italy in the morning, and I will miss her. She’s good fun.

Arabella will as well, more so than me, which I’m a little concerned about. She’s been at her happiest while her sister has been here, so I wonder if that will change once she’s gone. I hope not. I like this version of her … I don’t want things to revert back to how they were.

We are building on something here. Well, I hope that’s what we are doing. It feels like we are. I’ve come to care deeply about her—it’s not love yet, but I hope it will be one day.

My arms slink around her tiny waist when I stop behind her. I bury my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her sweet scent as my lips graze her warm skin. “Morning, Bellezza .”

“Morning.”

“I woke up, and you were gone,” I whisper so only she can hear. “I wanted to have my wife again, and now I’m going to have to walk around with a semi-hard cock and aching balls all day.”

“I had to get up early to prepare the food for you and your men.”

“You could’ve woken me before you left.”

“You were in a deep sleep … you looked peaceful; I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Next time, wake me. I’d rather be tired than in physical pain. ”

She turns her face to meet my gaze. “I highly doubt you’re experiencing physical pain.”

I jut my hips forward, pushing my semi-swollen dick into that luscious backside of hers to prove my point.

She took my cock like a champ last night, and although I could tell it hurt her in the beginning, by the end, she was enjoying it just as much as I was.

I’d been hesitant to go there again after the first time, where she tried to mask her pain, but I saw straight through it. I held back as much as I could because even though it felt so fucking good for me, it didn’t for her, and I hated that.

Things went much smoother last night, and I’m confident they will only improve as her body gets used to accommodating my salsiccia grande (Large sausage) .

“When a man gets to experience a pussy as fine as yours, Mrs Mancini, trust me, he’ll ache for it.”

“I don’t know whether to kiss you or slap your face for that comment,” she says, her cheeks flushing with a pretty, pink blush.

“A kiss will suffice,” I retort, reaching out to snag a chocolate cornetti from the tray as my lips briefly meet hers.

She’s smiling when I pull away and retreat a step. My day started out shit when I opened my eyes to find her gone, but it’s starting to look up.

“I’ll make you a coffee, just give me a second.”

“I’ll wait until Romeo gets here.” I look down at my watch. “Which should be any minute.”

“Romeo’s coming?” Lucia asks with a little too much enthusiasm for my liking. It wouldn’t bother me in any other world, but Stefano trusted me with his youngest daughter.

Mine and Arabella’s gazes snap to her, and the excitement I see on her face is concerning.

When the doorbell rings, I head in that direction, side-eyeing Lucia as I pass. She’s finally put that damn book down and is currently smoothing her hands over her long dark hair .

What the fuck is that about?

When we took the girls out for the day, I saw how well she and Romeo got along. I hoped it was a budding friendship, but now I’m not so sure.

“Hey,” I say to Romeo when I open the front door. “Is there something going on between you and Lucia that I should be worried about?”

“What?” he answers without faltering, genuinely shocked by my question. That, for some reason, gives me immediate relief.

“I just needed to ask,” I say, placing my hand on his shoulder. “She’s a Cosa Nostra princess, so to speak. I have no doubts that Stefano plans to marry her off in the immediate future. He views his daughters as commodities and would kill her without batting an eyelid if she weren’t pure on her wedding day—not to mention the person responsible for deflowering her.”

Romeo raises both his hands in front of him in a defensive move. “Whoa. I like her … she’s a cool chick, but not only is she far too young for me, I’d never do anything that would bring shame to you or this family.”

“Good,” I say, dropping my arm and moving back towards the kitchen. “I’m pretty sure there are cartoon hearts in her eyes where you’re concerned, so be careful.”

He chuckles at my observation, but doesn’t reply.

Once Arabella places two cappuccinos and a plate of cornetti on my desk, she turns and exits the room.

I reach for my cup and settle back in my seat. “I brought you in early to discuss Edoardo.”

“I thought as much,” Romeo replies.

“Has he mentioned his house yet? ”

“Nope … still nothing. I spoke with him again yesterday, and he seemed in good spirits. Seeing him face-to-face this morning will be telling.”

“Hmm,” I agree.

“I’ve been monitoring his movements, but the only place he’s gone other than his home is to a woman’s house.” He places the folder in his hand on my desk and slides it towards me. “Should we search there next?”

I open the folder and skim through the contents. I’ve seen this woman before; it’s the woman he brought to my father’s birthday. He’s had many women over his life, both before and after divorcing his wife, but this one has been around for a while. The fact that he hasn’t married her, or at least moved her in with him, tells me everything I need to know. She’s not that important to him.

“Not at this stage,” I reply, closing the file. “We’ll revisit this if need be. He’s probably spooked and lying low for now. We have to be patient. He’ll let down his guard eventually.”

“I agree. I’ll be watching him closely in the meantime.”

“Same.”

“The fact that he’s said nothing about the ransacking is shady as fuck.”

“Right,” I agree.

“You should’ve been the first person he contacted.”

“I know.”

I reach over and pick up another cornetti because my wife is the best fucking cook in the world.

We spent the next hour talking shop while we waited for the others to arrive. Once they do, we move into the dining room.

When Edoardo enters, my eyes flicker from him to Romeo, and when I find my underboss’s gaze is already firmly fixed on him, I use the time to greet my men, knowing he’s got that covered.

“I drove past your place yesterday,” Sammy says as he shakes Edoardo’s hand. “I saw a lot of tradesmen coming and going. Are you having some work done?”

I reach out and shake Leo’s hand as a distraction, but I’m all ears, eager to hear his answer.

“Yeah, I’m doing some renovations. The house has good bones but could use an update.”

Lying cunt.

“Oh, yeah?” Sammy replies. “What kind of renos?”

“The bathroom.”

“Damn, you should’ve said something. My brother has his own business. I could’ve gotten a family discount for you.”

“If I ever update the other one, I’ll keep him in mind.”

My gaze moves back to Romeo, and his scowl tells me he also heard the conversation. I hope we can get to the bottom of this soon; the unknown makes me uneasy.

The tears my wife is currently shedding as the limousine exits the airport’s carpark are reminiscent of the ones she cried the day she arrived here in Australia, and I fucking hate that. The more time I spend with this woman, the more she comes to mean to me, and those tears … they’re quickly becoming my damn weakness.

“Come here, Bellezza ,” I say, undoing her seat belt and tugging her onto my lap.

She curls herself into a tight ball, pressing her face into the crook of my neck when I wrap her tightly in my arms. I can feel the weight of her concerns. There’s no denying she’ll miss Lucia. She was no problem during her stay and brought extra life to the house. She also helped keep Arabella company while I attended to business.

My wife’s greatest concern is what fate has in store for the youngest Rossi daughter at the hands of their father .

It’s only a matter of time before Stefano uses her for a business transaction, like he did with Arabella, and God only knows who that person may be.

From what I’ve been told but have yet to confirm, Arabella was set to marry my father before he passed, and he was forty-five years her senior.

Stefano won’t even consider whether the union is a fitting match for his youngest daughter. All he cares about is what he’ll gain from the marriage. Lucia’s a sweet kid who doesn’t deserve the horrors she will likely face.

Arabella may disagree, but she was lucky to be matched with me. I’d never intentionally hurt her. I can’t say the same will happen to her little sister.

If I could bring Lucia here for good, I wouldn’t think twice, but I know that’s impossible. Stefano already has the connections he needs with my family, so letting his youngest daughter move to Australia wouldn’t offer him any advantage.

“Change of plans,” I say to my driver, Dario. “Can you drop us off at the club?”

“No problem, boss,” he replies.

My request has Arabella drawing back and looking up at me with a confused expression. I vehemently dislike the sight of her tear-stained cheeks. The pads of my thumbs skim across her skin as I lean in and kiss each eyelid softly. Seeing my wife hurting like this makes me feel unsettled inside.

“Why are we going to the club?” she asks.

“To have a couple of shots.”

Her pretty green eyes widen. “It’s midmorning.”

“So?”

“It’s too early to be drunk.”

“Nobody said anything about getting drunk, Bellezza . Just enough to take the edge off … trust me, you’ll thank me when we arrive at our second stop.”

“Second stop?”

“The tattoo parlour. ”

“You are taking me to get my tattoo?”

“If you still want it.”

“Yes … yes I do.”

“I wanted to wait until Lucia had left before I took you.”

“Why?”

“Because you and I know she would’ve been all over that shit. Your father would kill me if I allowed her to ink her skin permanently.”

“But you’re allowing me.”

“You’re my wife. He has no say over what you do anymore.”

She leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “Thank you,” she murmurs as she settles her cheek against my chest. I pull her closer when she releases a contented sigh. I know a tattoo won’t erase her pain, but for now, at least the tears have stopped.

As soon as I exit the vehicle, I straighten my suit jacket and reach for Arabella’s hand, helping her out of the car. The club won’t open for another hour, but some of my staff will already be here.

Pushing through the front door, I abruptly stop when one of the security guys steps out of the shadows. “We’re not open—” His words die on his tongue when he sees that it’s me. “Mr Mancini, I apologise. I wasn’t expecting it to be you.”

I nod and continue forward with my wife’s hand still clutched in mine. When I reach the bar, I move behind it and grab a bottle of black Sambuca from the top shelf and two shot glasses.

One of the bar girls rounds the corner and does a double take when she notices me. “Mr Mancini.” Her eyes briefly flicker to Arabella before moving back to me. “I … umm … is there something I can get for you?”

“Nope,” I reply, holding up the bottle of Sambuca in my hand. “We’ll be in the VIP area. Please make sure we’re not disturbed.”

Arabella’s eyes widen as I return to her side, gesturing for her to follow. “That was a little rude,” she says, falling into step beside me.

“How? I said please.”

She rolls her eyes as I shove the bottle under my arm and reach for her hand, leading her up the stairs to the roped-off area where I usually sit with my men.

When we reach the table in the back corner, I pull out her chair and take a seat opposite her.

Placing the shot glasses down, I fill them both. Once I slide hers across the table, I lift mine and wait for her to do the same.

“ Salute ,” I say, clinking her glass with mine.

“ Salute .”

We both down the alcohol in one go, and I welcome the smooth warmth as it slides down the back of my throat. I chose this drink purely for Arabella. Its sweet, aniseed flavour, reminiscent of liquorice, seemed like the better option as opposed to something harder like tequila.

Apart from an occasional glass of red wine, I’ve never seen her drink alcohol, unlike Lucia, who often shared a scotch or two with me in the evenings when she stayed with us.

She sets her glass down, allowing me to refill it. After a brief pause, she picks it up, tips her head back, showcasing her elongated neck, and empties the contents into her mouth.

I’m debating whether to pour her another. I’m looking to loosen her up and get her a bit tipsy, not drunk. My wife, however, has other plans. She slides the glass towards me and raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, silently demanding a refill with nothing but a look .

I comply because if this is what she needs to feel better, I’ll give it to her. I’m starting to realise there isn’t much I wouldn’t do to see this woman happy.

When she finishes her third shot, she sits back in her chair. A slight blush rises to her cheeks, and a relaxed, goofy smile curves her pretty lips. The alcohol is definitely taking effect, and it has me grinning.

“Are you drunk?” I ask, sliding my hand across the table to take hold of hers.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been drunk before, but I have a warm buzz spreading through my body, and I’m no longer so … uptight.”

“Good,” I say, squeezing her hand. That’s exactly what I was looking for.

“Can I have another?”

“Maybe give it a few minutes. Let the effects of the ones you drank sink in first.”

I probably should get the kitchen to bring her something to eat. She barely touched her breakfast before we left for the airport.

I’m pulled out of my thoughts when I hear the sharp click of high heels crossing the polished wooden floor. Annoyed, my eyes flicker in that direction. I told them downstairs we didn’t want to be disturbed.

I feel my blood pressure rise slightly as I see Bianca approaching. She runs this place during the day, which is why I tend to show up only at night now.

The two of us have a history, but that ended a while ago when she became too clingy. I probably should’ve let her go, but she’s good at her job, and honestly, I didn’t want our brief fling to come back and bite me on the arse. It’s not her fault I wasn’t looking for something long-term.

A sly smile curves her bright-red lips as she approaches. She’s beautiful; there is no denying that, but she has nothing on my wife .

“Dante,” she coos, stopping beside the table and leaning down to press her lips to my cheek.

Thankfully, I manage to pull back before they connect with my face. I can’t shake the feeling she’s putting on a show for my wife, and that pisses me off.

Her eyes widen slightly at my cold response as she draws back and straightens. I’m not about to do anything that might upset Arabella.

Bianca is not stupid; she knows exactly who she’s dealing with, which makes this move incredibly ballsy. The truth is I’m a nice guy … until I’m not, so she’d better watch her step.

“I told the staff downstairs we didn’t want to be disturbed,” I growl.

She casually lifts one shoulder. “I know, but I didn’t think that applied to me.”

“It applied to everyone.”

She ignores my response as her attention moves to Arabella. “Who do we have here?” she asks, placing her hand on my shoulder and giving it a light squeeze.

“I’m Dante’s wife,” Arabella replies, but there’s definitely venom in her tone. Are those pretty emerald-coloured eyes of hers getting greener?

I roll my lips to hide my grin. I can’t help but love her feisty side. Over time, I’ve learned something about my wife: deep inside, she’s incredibly insecure. I know this comes from being belittled and put down her entire life.

Her father always made her feel like she wasn’t good enough because she wasn’t born with a dick. Honestly, it makes me livid. I want to rip him apart for all the damage he’s caused and right all the wrongs he has done to her.

“Wife!” Bianca screeches as her eyebrows jump so high they almost reach her hairline. Her narrowed eyes move back to me.

I don’t doubt she heard of my recent nuptials. I’ve been the talk of the town since I arrived back from Italy .

One of my biggest pet peeves is people who play games. I’ve always been straightforward. What you see is what you get. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

“Wow, it didn’t take you long to move on,” she hisses.

That darkness inside, the one I keep buried deep, is now simmering just below the surface. It’s a part of me that I rarely let people see. The rage, the bitterness, that sense of being broken in ways I don’t know how to fix.

“Excuse me,” I bark.

“You broke things off with me months ago because you weren’t interested in settling down, and now you’re married?”

I distanced myself from her; there was nothing to break off; we weren’t dating … we were fucking. End of story.

I open my mouth to reply, but Arabella beats me to it. “You may have had a past with my husband, but I am his present and his future. So if I were you, I’d remove those cat-like claws from his shoulder unless you want me to smash this bottle over your head”—she wraps her dainty fingers around the neck of the Sambuca bottle, emphasising her words—“and run the jagged edge across that slender throat of yours.”

I recoil, completely stunned by her threat. Is there a darker side to Arabella that I’ve yet to see until now?

My cock instantly swells.

It’s the last thing I expected to hear come out of her sweet, prudish mouth. Something else hits me other than shock: pride. My views may be skewed, and my moral compass grey, but my wife just threatened to cut a woman’s throat purely because I once associated with her.

This unhinged side of Arabella is hot as fuck, but more importantly, it shows she has feelings for me. If she didn’t care, she wouldn’t be jealous, right? I revel in that knowledge because I was hoping these things I’m feeling were reciprocated. I’m pretty sure she just gave me confirmation.

I settle back in my chair and watch in awe as my wife stares up at Bianca with a look that could best be described as murderous. Part of me wants to step in and stop the situation before it escalates, but I also want to see how this plays out.

Naturally, I’ll step in if necessary. The last thing I want is to see my beautiful wife behind bars. Not that I’d ever let that happen. If I had to, I’d burn down this fucking town. It’s my job to protect her and keep her safe, and I’ll never take that responsibility lightly.

Bianca gasps. “Are you threatening me?”

Arabella lifts her chin, exuding confidence. “Yes, I am. So, if I were you, I’d turn around and walk away before you end up hurt.”

When Bianca remains frozen to the spot, obviously stunned by my wife’s threat, I decide to speak up.

Keeping my voice steady but authoritative, I say, “You heard my wife.” The message is clear … she needs to leave.

Thankfully, Bianca takes the hint as she abruptly turns on her heel and storms off. She only manages to take a few steps before I call her name.

“Hey, Bianca.” She stops and glances back at me. “If you ever pull a stunt like that again, you’re fired.”

She faces forward and continues walking; she knows too well I mean what I say. She was a damn fool to come up here. Not only did I tell her I wasn’t interested in her anymore, but I’ve also been avoiding her for months. That alone should have spoken volumes. Did she honestly think she could stir shit and come between my wife and me? Arabella runs rings around that woman.

I wait until Bianca slides the rope aside and descends the stairs, disappearing from view, before I stand and reach for Arabella’s hand.

“Where are you taking me?” she asks when I don’t head in the direction Bianca just left.

Instead, I move further into the room, specifically towards the private bathroom at the very rear.

I don’t reply until I push the door open and tug her inside. “ That display you just put on has me as hard as a rock. I’m going to fuck you, Bellezza .”

“In here?” she says over a gasp.

“Yes, right here,” I reply, locking the door behind me and pushing her back up against it.

She parts her lips to protest, but I quickly cover her mouth with mine, swallowing her words.

My hand moves to the junction of her thighs as I massage her clit through her dress and deepen the kiss. There’s not a single moment that I don’t want this woman, but right now, I need her more than I need my next breath.

It only takes a few swipes of my fingers for her to widen her stance, relax, and begin to relent. She’s got a greedy pussy and is powerless to my touch.

Within minutes, she’s coming undone. I’ve become very familiar with her body and what she likes.

Once I’ve drained the last wave of her orgasm, I pull out of the kiss and manoeuvre her in front of the basin; her back is now facing my front.

My eyes remain fixed on her reflection in the mirror as I hike her skirt up around her hips. Her face is still flushed with her arousal, and those stunning green eyes of hers sparkle like emeralds under the bright light. She’s never looked more beautiful than she does at this moment.

I use my knee to spread her legs wider as I reach for the buckle of my belt. “Don’t move,” I warn.

My gaze flickers down to that round fucking arse of hers, and pre-cum leaks from my dick as I take a second to palm her cheeks in my hands. I’m going to fuck this arse one day.

“I’m not sure if I can do this right now, Dante … I’m too angry.”

“Let me fuck all that anger out of you, Ragazza dolce (Sweet girl). An orgasm can do wonders for one’s mood.”

“You just gave me one, and it may have taken the edge off, but I’m still feeling stabby. ”

I bark out a laugh. “You were pretty upset out there, but I’m confident the next one will do the trick.”

As soon as I’ve freed my cock from its confines, I slide her underwear aside and stroke myself as I line up with her opening.

“ Bellezza ,” I groan as I slip the tip inside. She’s so fucking snug.

“Dante,” she whimpers as I roll my hips, burying myself balls deep inside her paradise. I’ve never taken her from behind before, and every position with her seems to take things to another level. I can’t wait until I no longer have to hold back.

I give her a moment to adjust to the intrusion as one hand moves to her hip, and the other fists in her hair, tugging slightly.

Her eyes narrow at me through the mirror. “Ouch, what was that for?”

“You just went all boss woman and threatened to slice someone’s throat, which was so damn sexy, by the way. Don’t go all soft on me now, Mrs Mancini.”

The heat on her face intensifies. “I didn’t like the way she was looking at you. I want her gone from this club and your life, Dante.”

“You have nothing to worry about, Arabella. I haven’t been interested in her in a very long time. I only have eyes for one woman, and that’s you.”

I draw my hips back and thrust back in as I speak, watching her eyes roll back in her head as I do.

My hand slips from her hip, broaching the elastic of her underwear so I can stimulate her clit as I continue to pound into her luscious body over and over again.

“Open your eyes, Arabella,” I command when her eyelids flutter close. “I want you to watch me fuck you.” I grin into the mirror when her heated eyes spring open. “ Bellezza ,” I growl as my balls draw up. I need her to come again before I blow my load. “I need you to …” My words morph into a long, drawn-out groan when her pussy starts to contract around my cock. “Araabelllla. Jesus, fuck.”

I seat myself deep inside her, and my movements become jerky as her spasms milk my cock. I know for a fact she’s not on birth control, and I’ve never used protection with her. Does that frighten me? Not in the slightest. I’m in this for the long haul, so naturally, I’d love to start a family with her one day.