Chapter 20
TWENTY
Damiano
In the weeks since we visited my mother, Violetta and I have settled into a comfortable rhythm, our days revolving around each other's. Though there's really no need for her to be up as early as I am every morning, she gets out of bed at the same time as me anyway.
While I take my shower, she uses the phone I bought her to scroll through gossip sites on the internet. She takes great delight in commenting on the frivolous purchases of the rich and famous, apparently unaware she could outspend most of them if she ever used the credit card I gave her.
She also calls both her mother and mine regularly. Thankfully, my brother finally got his head out of his ass and has called her several times since I threatened to burn his sanctuary to the ground. I guess once he broke the ice with Mamma he realized how much he missed talking to her.
When it's Violetta's turn to shower, I head downstairs to make sure Lina is preparing breakfast. She always is. It's only out of habit that I still check.
This morning when my wife comes to join me at the breakfast table, she's wearing a pretty green dress. It's my favorite color on her. It works well with her amber eyes.
Her hair is slicked back and slightly damp. I’ve grown accustomed to her different moods in the morning. If she reaches for the coffee before speaking it’s a bad sign. When she walks in humming quietly to herself it’s good.
This morning she’s giving a rendition of some song by Dua Lipa. She leans forward to examine the contents of the basket of pastries and consider her options. As always, she chooses the custard filled cornetto.
"I spoke to the admissions office at the university," I tell her. "The enrollment period opens in two weeks but I've taken care of your fees. You just need to decide which courses you want to study."
Violetta sets down her pastry, her movement slow and deliberate in a way that puts me on alert.
"You did what?" she demands, her tone sharp. "I was going to do that myself."
"Yes, but I saved you the bother."
She grinds her teeth, sending a shudder down my spine. I hate that noise.
"I wanted to do it myself."
"Why? The outcome is the same whether you take care of it or I do."
"The outcome is not the same. I don't get the satisfaction of going in there with the money I saved and signing up without throwing the Volante name about."
"Oh? You were going to use some different name? Perhaps you'd like to pretend you're still a Caruso."
The possibility of that being true hits me harder than I expected. I thought we were settling nicely into married life but Violetta might not feel the same.
"No," she denies.
"Then I don't see the problem."
"The problem, Damiano." She speaks as if I'm a child, incapable of understanding. "Is that you had no right."
"No right? I'm your husband."
"Yes, my husband. Not my keeper. Not my boss. My husband. My supposed partner." She shakes her head. "Sometimes I'm not sure you know the difference."
"Of course I know the difference. As your husband I'll tolerate you speaking to me this way when you're obviously upset. As your boss I'd spank your ass."
My wife's jaw drops. "Oh, you would? Do you spank all female employees who challenge you?"
"Of course not. Don't be stupid."
I regret my choice of words the moment they leave my mouth. I should have known Violetta would latch onto them.
"Stupid? Is that what you think I am? Did you think I was too stupid to enroll myself at university?"
"Of course not."
I pause to consider everything she's said and finally realize what the real problem is. It's about autonomy. As my wife, there are few decisions she can make without deferring to me. It's for her own safety but I know she hates it.
Making decisions for the people I care about has become so ingrained in me I don’t even think before I do it anymore. If I want Violetta to be happy, I have to learn to pull back.
"You're right about the university. I should have asked you before acting."
For a minute she says nothing, thrown off balance by what she probably sees as a rare moment of self-reflection from me. What she doesn't realize is I've been thinking more about what I do and how it impacts others from the moment I first had her brought to my home.
"Yes you should," she says eventually. "Overbearing asshole."
A smile curves her lips as she tears a piece off her pastry and throws it at me.
"Oh, I'm an overbearing asshole, am I?"
"Yes you are."
She sends me a smug look. I see her game now. She's built up anger and now that it's been deflated she needs somewhere to channel her energy. Fortunately I have ways to help her release the pressure. Pushing my chair back from the table, I pat my lap.
"Come here, volpina."
My wife looks anxiously over her shoulder.
"We're in the dining room, Damiano."
"I'm aware."
"Gianni or Lina could come in."
I pick up my phone and send a message to the kitchen telling the staff we're not to be disturbed.
"There. Now nobody will come in."
Violetta looks scandalized. "They'll know what we're up to."
I arch an eyebrow. In the past few weeks we've made love in half the rooms in the palazzo. That we're enjoying an active sex life is not going to be news to our staff. She seems to come to that realization herself when she gets up and walks toward me.
"Are you going to put yourself over my lap or do I have to do it?"
Hitching up her skirt, she drapes herself elegantly over my lap.
I draw her black lace panties down. I spank her twice, once on each cheek, just gentle taps to begin with.
Then I smack her harder, and she cries out.
I establish a steady rhythm, alternating between left and right.
With each impact, her skin grows a little pinker, eventually becoming a deep, satisfying red.
Violetta whimpers and moans, wriggling on my lap as her need grows.
When I'm finished, I stand, bringing her up with me. I set her on the edge of the table and push her thighs apart. Stepping between them, I curve a hand around her neck and brand her with a searing kiss.
She pushes my jacket from my shoulders, and I shrug it the rest of the way off. Then she tugs my shirt out of my waistband and slides her hands up to pinch my nipples. I groan at the bite of pain then retaliate by latching my mouth onto her neck and sucking hard.
As Violetta tugs me free from my pants, I shove her dress up around her waist. I don't need to check if she's ready for me. The desperate sound she makes when I step closer tells me all I need to know.
With one hard thrust, I bury myself inside her.
This isn't going to be slow. Both of us need this hard and fast. I hammer into her like a man possessed.
Violetta leans back on her palms, tilting her hips toward me.
Accepting the invitation, I rip open the neckline of her dress and yank her bra down.
I pull her nipple into my mouth and tease it with my tongue.
Violetta moans and pushes herself against me.
When I sink my teeth into her breast, she screams and her hips lift from the table.
I drive her through her orgasm, loving the way she spasms around me. It doesn't take long for me to follow. I hug her close, burying my nose in her hair that smells of freesias as I come.
We linger for a moment in our embrace, me breathing in her sweet scent, Violetta running her hand slowly up and down my back.
Eventually I step away, tucking myself back into my clothing. Violetta searches for her panties, which are now on the floor. I pick them up and hand them to her. She doesn't put them back on. Instead, she moves closer and shoves them in my pocket.
"A little reminder for you," she murmurs in my ear.
"A reminder?"
"That if you ever make decisions about my life without telling me again, you'll have to use those panties to get yourself off because you won't be touching me."
With that, she pats my cheek and saunters out the door.
For several minutes after she’s gone, I stand there, the scent of her shampoo still dominating my senses.
I’ve never allowed anyone to get under my skin but Violetta has managed it without even trying.
I’m not sure when I stopped fighting it, but I love her.
That scares me more than I’ll ever admit.