Chapter 5
FIVE
Katya
Lying on top of the covers on the soft mattress of the bed I've already come to think of as my own, I twirl the ring around on my finger. The plain gold band confuses me. Men like Gabriele Volante operate in a particular way. They use jewelry to make a statement.
A big flashy diamond to signal his ownership of me was what I expected. It should have been a reminder to me of who I belonged to and a message to other men that I was off limits. Perhaps a ring like that will come but for now I have this simple gold band and I'm not sure what to make of it.
I'd like to think of the ring as Gabriele's quiet commitment to building a life together but I know I'm fooling myself. I've been doing a lot of that lately.
You'd think my circumstances would have knocked all romantic fantasies from my brain, but still they linger. A part of me hopes they never fade.
I have no idea what time it is, but the sky darkened hours ago. It's been a while since Maria came and collected the empty plates from the beautiful dinner she brought me.
There was a delicious pasta with artichokes that she mistakenly told me were anchovies. Her English is decent but she stumbles over some words.
The pasta was followed by a veal cutlet with sautéed vegetables. I tried to wave Maria off when she returned with a bowl of strawberry gelato for me but I'm glad I caved to her insistence because I enjoyed every mouthful.
People told me about Italian desserts and now I know they weren't exaggerating about how good they are.
For the rest of the evening, I've been trying to decide how I feel about what the night will bring.
The moment of consummation doesn't hold any fear for me, not the way it might if I was a virgin bride.
With Mikhail Orlov I discovered an appetite for sex.
It wasn't mind-blowing in the way I've read about in books, but it brought me enough pleasure to know I want more.
My problem is one of expectation. I tell myself sex with Gabriele is purely transactional, a part of the agreement we made and nothing more.
But I'm married to him now and I find that matters more than I thought it would. This union really is until death parts us because that's how it works in the Mafia.
No matter how dispassionately we approach this, feelings are bound to come into it at some point. I fear they'll be mine rather than his. It leaves me vulnerable but I’ve survived before and I’ll do so again.
When I hear steps outside the door, I get up from the bed and stand next to it waiting for Gabriele to enter. I smooth down the front of my dress which is now crumpled from me lying on it.
Almost a minute goes by. I'm starting to think I imagined hearing someone outside when there's a sharp knock at the door. That surprises me.
Surely Gabriele would just walk in. He'd be entirely within his rights since the details of our arrangement are clear. He can have access to me at any time. For better or worse, I signed up for that.
Perhaps this isn't him.
"Come in," I call out.
There's another pause before Gabriele enters. He walks in, closes the door and stands there for a moment. His stillness unnerves me. There's a predatory quality to it, like he's sizing me up, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
He's changed his clothes since I last saw him striding away from me in the foyer downstairs. His trousers are still black, but these are a looser fit than the ones he wore earlier. His shirt, a dark blue, is open at the collar.
If this is the casual version of Gabriele, it's still not what you'd call relaxed.
He crosses the room and comes to a stop in front of me. My breath hitches as he reaches out and cups my face in one hand. His thumb moves slowly across my cheekbone. The gesture is tender, at odds with the dark desire in his eye. I stare at him for a moment.
In the pale yellow glow from my bedside lamp, his scars are less vivid, but now I have the chance to study him close up, I notice the puckering of flesh at the corner of his mouth where the skin pulls unnaturally tight. Does that bother him when he eats?
A black silk patch covers his ruined eye. I wonder if what lies beneath is really so bad. If he wears the patch because he's sensitive about how it looks, I don't want to ask him to show me.
Perhaps in time he'll trust me enough to let me see all of him.
"Let's get you out of this dress," he says eventually.
Taking me by the shoulders, he spins me around. He lowers the zipper, his fingers brushing over my skin as he draws it down to my waist.
I shiver beneath his whisper-soft touch, my body already humming with anticipation. He tugs the dress down over my hips and it slides to the floor. I step out of it and then turn to face him.
Holding my head high, I try not to squirm under his heated gaze as he admires me in my lacy white lingerie.
"Beautiful," he murmurs. "Now take it off."
Suddenly bashful, I hesitate to obey his command. On the few occasions I went to bed with Mikhail, there wasn't time to think. Our lovemaking was frantic. We tore at each other's clothes, barely pausing to strip as we got caught up in the moment.
This is different. I'm exposed in a way I never have been before.
"Katya." Gabriele's tone holds an edge of impatience. "I gave you an instruction."
"Yes, Gabriele."
At first, my fingers don't cooperate as I reach behind me to unhook the strapless bra. I fumble, and it's not until my third attempt that I manage to open it. I let the wisp of delicate fabric drop to the floor. Then I shimmy out of my matching panties.
As I stand before Gabriele completely naked, I struggle not to cover myself. I'm proud of my body. It takes work to keep it in shape and my many admirers over the years have confirmed my hours in the gym have paid off.
Suddenly, however, I'm worried my husband will find me lacking.
"Stunning." He dispels my fears a moment later. "Come here, dolcezza."
The endearment makes me smile.
Gabriele reaches out to touch my face once more. His thumb trails over my lower lip. I wait for what will be our first kiss since we skipped that at the church. It doesn't come, even though I part my lips to show willingness.
Instead, Gabriele spins me around again, banding an arm across my chest to hold me back against his. He's solid, muscular, but I don't kid myself he's safe.
In fact, trapped in his arms like this I'm more certain than ever he's dangerous.
As he kisses my shoulder then trails his lips toward my neck, I tilt my head to give him better access. His open mouth is warm against my skin and it sparks a restlessness in me.
He runs a hand down to cup my breast. He caresses the tender flesh then circles his finger over my nipple until it pulls up into a tight peak.
I whimper with the need for more and Gabriele chuckles darkly.
"I like these," he murmurs as his hand continues to knead my breast before continuing a downward path. He grabs my feminine mound with a harshness that startles me into a yelp. "And I like this very much."
He slides his fingers between my legs and gently parts my folds. He touches me with the assurance of a man who's learned over many years exactly what women like.
I gasp as he finds my clit and rouses it with his touch. I wriggle against him as he pushes two fingers inside me, then draws them back and forth at a lazy pace.
The way he alternates between softness and something rougher throws me completely off balance. I suspect it's meant to.
"You're already wet for me, dolcezza." His repetition of the pet name makes me smile. He's unhurried in his exploration of my most intimate parts but when I reach back to stroke his shaft, already hard beneath his pants, he tuts disapprovingly. I quickly withdraw my hand.
He continues to strum a finger over my clit as his teeth nip my earlobe. As my arousal grows, I press my legs together, unable to cope with the sensations washing over me.
Gabriele pulls his fingers from my body and walks me toward the bed. Pressing gently on my shoulder, he urges me down until my torso is flat against the mattress.
Confused, I glance over my shoulder.
"Eyes front," he commands. "Push up onto your forearms."
I do as I'm told. Whenever, wherever, however, right?
Gabriele uses his foot to tap the insides of my ankles, moving my feet farther apart until I'm stretched obscenely wide for him.
There's a metallic sound as he unfastens his belt and then the rasp of a zipper fills the air.
He pulls my hips back to meet him as he pushes inside me with a single fluid movement that robs me of breath. He pauses, just briefly, to give me the chance to adjust to the fullness.
Mikhail was well-endowed but nothing like Gabriele. As my husband pulls back and then slams into me, my eyes roll back. I realize comparing him with my only other lover is like trying to weigh apples against oranges.
We've only just started and already I can tell Gabriele is on an entirely different level. There's not a hint of uncertainty in the way he fucks me. This man has decided I'm his and he's determined to prove it.
His fingers dig into my hips as he angles his thrusts to penetrate deeper. My nipples rub against the cool sheet beneath me, the stimulation driving me wild. Gabriele grunts as he ruts into me with animalistic intent.
Pleasure builds inside me and I moan with need. He answers it by sliding a hand beneath me to finger my clitoris once more. The tiny bundle of nerves throbs and my pussy clenches as I'm swept away by my climax.
My body convulses on the bed. Gabriele follows a moment later, his cock jerking inside me as the sharp bones of his hips press against my ass.
He withdraws and I sag onto the mattress, warm cum and my own arousal leaking from my body. I lie there for a minute, processing what just happened.
That was my first orgasm.
I thought I'd experienced something incredible with Mikhail but it was nothing like this. I wanted bone-shattering and Gabriele delivered.
When I finally manage to roll onto my back, I'm slightly dismayed to see Gabriele has already tucked himself back into his clothing. He looks remarkably unruffled while I lie on the bed, a naked, sweaty mess.
The contrast reminds me of my place in things. Gabriele is the one in control.
"Get some rest." It's another instruction, delivered without a hint of concern for my wellbeing. "Maria will fetch you in the morning and show you where breakfast is served."
He couldn't sound more detached if he tried. Shooting me one final look I can't decipher, he leaves, closing the door behind him with a quiet snick that signals finality. He won't be back tonight.
The worst thing about all of this is that he didn't even kiss me.
I crawl into bed, and stare at the ceiling. After a minute I close my eyes, but I know sleep won't come. Not when my heart is still racing and my thoughts are churning.
Gabriele took my body, exercising the rights I handed to him. He gave me the most intense pleasure, then left without a backward glance.
My annoyance gradually gives way to determination. A wicked smile curves my lips. If he thinks he can remain unaffected by me, I'll just have to prove him wrong. Gabriele Volante is about to find out what I’m made of.