25. Isabella
twenty-five
Isabella
I swipe my sweaty hands on my jeans and take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. No matter how many deep breaths and this beautiful view over Manhattan that always relaxes me, it’s not working.
Anticipation of what will happen. Will my father execute his threat? I worry that not even Salvatore can save me from his wrath.
His words from that night and my mother’s screams are the only things that I see when I close my eyes.
The only time I don’t think about the past is when Salvatore distracts me, and his actions take over my body and mind. That has been happening a lot for the last week since he announced it was time to see my father.
When I went to his club and asked him to stop avoiding me, I didn’t expect us to fall into a routine.
Waking up next to him every morning, him coming to my place of work and taking me to lunch. And not in some fancy restaurant or his hotel. He took me to one of his favorite places, showing me a small piece of him.
A small family Italian restaurant with home-cooked food. It reminded me of my mama’s cooking, and I cried like a baby. He didn’t make fun of me or roll his eyes; he sat there and listened to me while I rambled about my mother and how great she was.
And now, with my bag packed, I’m waiting for him to fly back from the place I ran away from. The place that holds a noose around my neck. The place that killed all my trust and created a hatred toward my father and people like him, and all they represent.
People like Salvatore, that, even despite all my attempts to find something hateful about him except who he is, I couldn’t.
All I found were some articles that have no true value, in which he was represented as cold and emotionless. All of what was written there was the opposite of the man I’ve gotten to know.
I found out small things about him, like when he’s thinking, he plays with the pen in his hand or the cufflinks on his shirt. When we’re in bed, he plays with my hair while we talk. He always falls asleep last and wakes up first.
Since the day we married, he made sure breakfast and coffee were delivered before I woke up. And this last week, he made sure we ate breakfast and dinner together.
We shared funny stories and some sad ones too. Most importantly, we got to know each other on more than an intimate level.
I look at the time. Salvatore is late, and he is never late. Uneasiness spreads across my stomach, and I make a quick decision. I grab my bag and exit the suite. I greet Bastian, who has today’s shift. I enter the elevator code and press for the ground floor. As soon as the elevator arrives, I march toward his office, but before I can knock, I hear voices.
“…so what?”
“What kind of question is that? I told you before, I need this marriage to work. And infidelity is one of the things I despise most.”
“But you don’t care about her.” A high-pitched voice responds.
Salvatore’s angry tone roars behind the closed doors. “It doesn’t matter. She is my wife, our marriage is consummated, and I told you if that happens, we’re done.”
I frown, and with a glance to the side, I can see Bastian’s mouth twitching. Without a second thought, I turn the doorknob and push the door open.
Salvatore’s finance director, Ashley, and Salvatore, stand in the middle of his office, facing each other. They both turn toward me, and Salvatore’s expression turns from annoying to relaxed in a second. Is he grateful I interrupted?
I mask my confusion, and in true Isabel Roberts style, I enter Salvatore’s office, ignoring the blond, and state the obvious to Salvatore. “You’re late.”
“Sorry, mia cara. I was just finishing.” My heart skips for just a second at his endearment. I just got used to him calling me Bella. “Dante is already waiting. He will drive us.” With one glance at the blond, he says. “Think about what I said and the deal we had. If you decide differently, I will understand. No hard feelings. Let me know your decision when I return.”
With his hand on the small of my back, he steers me toward the exit, not waiting for her response.
During our drive, I didn’t mention what I overheard. I didn’t ask the meaning of what he said to the blond. I wanted to be tough and self-assured, but even after the plane took off, I was thinking about what I overheard.
At least, I chose to do that so I could distract myself from the fact that I’m flying back to Italy.
Since I’m nosy by nature and always want to know things, there is no way I’m going to let this slide.
I look at Salvatore, who is deep in some spreadsheet on his laptop, and decide I’m going to play twenty questions with him.
“What decision does the blond have to make?”
His eyes snap from the spreadsheet toward me. With a smirk on his face, he looks at his watch. “A whole two hours. Impressive.”
I scrunch my nose, confused. “What?”
“It took you two hours to ask. I was sure you would demand an answer before we exited the hotel, or at least in the car. I never expected that you would wait this long.”
I don’t know what to say to his remark. To say I’m also impressed is an understatement.
“What? Come on, Bella. I pay attention to small things. And what I learned about you in the last few weeks is that you would want to know what happened in that office.”
I huff. “Well, of course I want to know. What kind of wife would I be if I wasn’t interested? I overheard you before I entered.”
He chuckles and closes his laptop. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less from you. It is, after all, your area of expertise.” He leans in, resting his elbows on his knees. We’re only inches apart. “Snooping around, especially around that office. I see a pattern here. Last time you were almost spread across my desk. Almost.”
Heat spreads across my neck and cheeks, but I don’t let it distract me. “You wish I was. Is that why you used the excuse of searching me so you could touch me?”
We never discussed what happened in his office. Did his hands itch to touch me just as my body wanted him?
“Maybe.”
I lean in towards him, so we’re at the same eye level, separated only by a few inches. I can feel his breath on my face. His smug smirk and mischievous eyes fall on my lips. Something I’ve got used to for the last few weeks. “How about you tell me what I want to know, and I will let you repeat that next time I’m in your office?”
A smile spreads across his face. “How about while I tell you everything you need to know, I fill your curious mouth so you can’t ask questions while I talk?”
I look to where the crew that greeted us is. “We’re not alone.” I don’t know if this jet has a bedroom. I was slightly surprised earlier when I found out that he doesn’t own it, he just rents it when needed.
“They know not to come out here unless I press the button.”
He’s baiting me. At least, I think he is. I don’t think twice before I fall to my knees with a grin on my face. He’s going to regret baiting me.
He relaxes in his seat, his hands on the side of the chair as I push between his legs. I run my hands from his knees up to his groin. My eyes never leave his, and I unbuckle his belt, followed by his fly. I pull on the fabric of his boxers until his cock springs out. I wet my lips before I lean my head down and swirl my tongue around the crown, teasing him.
“Start talking, husband,” I say before taking him in my mouth with my eyes still on his. Up and down, up and down, and I pull away with a pop.
“We had a deal when she started working with me.” He stops talking, nodding at his cock. I place a kiss on his tip and lick him from the bottom to the top. Before I take him in my mouth again, I raise my eyebrow, so he continues.
“Neither of us wanted relationships, so it was easy.” With his cock in my mouth, I make a move I learned in the last few weeks that he likes. I swirl my tongue around his tip, making him moan.
“I told her I don’t cheat, and that if you and I consummated our marriage, our deal would be over.”
Through my eyelashes, I can see his head is thrown back against the seat, his nostrils flaring.
Taking him in my mouth until his tip hits my throat, I keep him there for one, two, three seconds. Before I can pull back, his fingers run through my hair and he grabs my head, pushing his cock deeper and making me gag. I breathe through my nose, trying to relax my throat. My eyes water and saliva drips past my lips. Still, I calm myself and let him take control as he guides my head up and down. When only the tip of his cock is in my mouth, he smirks.
“She was angry because, after avoiding her for weeks, I ended what we had between us.” Groaning, he pushes his cock deep inside my mouth. At this point, I’m a mess with tears running down my face. He lifts my head, his cock halfway out of my mouth. My insides are squirming, and the heat between my legs is unbearable. I hate that I wore jeans because I can’t squeeze my legs to ease the ache.
My eyes raise to his commanding blue ones. “Don’t swallow.” Once again, he pushes deep inside my throat, his cock jerking. The saltiness fills my mouth, making me choke on his cum.
When he’s done, he pulls out, grasping me gently between his fingers by the chin.
“Open.” I do. “Tongue out, slowly. Don’t spill a drop. Good girl.” He places his finger on my tongue, taking some of it and painting my lips with it.
Why is this hot? My brain is out of service. I can’t think.
His eyes sparkle as he commands, “Swallow.”
And I do.
I learned that, just as he wants to dominate me, my body wants to surrender to him, to be the obedient good girl for him.
He leans in and, like a possessed man, hungrily claims my cum-covered mouth.
Breathless, my body screams for a release when he lets me go and tucks himself back with a grin on his face.
“The deal was no drama if we broke things off. If she doesn’t like the situation, she is free to leave, but she knows too much, and she knows if she leaves, she might end up dead.”
I say nothing. I don’t care about the woman. Also, my throat is sore, and I need to clean myself up. I’m still on my knees and I’m sure I look a mess.
He smirks and grabs my chin between his fingers again, tracing my lips with his finger. “Nothing to say. Looks like you bit off more than you can swallow. I wish I could keep you like this all the time. Face fucked and silent.”
I don’t answer. At this point, I would let him do and say whatever he wants to me. So, when he stands and pulls me with him, steering me toward the back of the jet, I let him.
He opens the door of the bedroom, and in one move, I land with my back on the bed. He grabs my jeans and unbuttons them, and in one quick move, they are down my legs. I close my eyes and thank God as he pulls my panties down, and with a smirk, he falls to his knees and eats me until I scream his name.
The distraction from my spiraling mind was worth it because after I came so hard that I could see stars, I slept in Salvatore's arms until it was time to prepare for landing.
I fix my hair and clothes, and with a touch of mascara, I’m ready to land back home.
Luckily, we are landing first in Palermo, where Salvatore is meeting with the head of Cosa Nostra there, his distant cousin, so he can organize the safety of our stay in Italy. You can’t just come to someone’s territory without agreements, cousin or not. I’m just asking myself what Salvatore has offered so we can stay here.
Three cars are waiting for us, and six men. They greet Salvatore with handshakes and kisses on the cheek, while I’m barely looked at.
I’m not surprised; I’m married to him, and giving me something other than a respectful look is direct disrespect against Salvatore. Anything less will lead them to their early grave.
Italian Cosa Nostra still follows old traditions. Some have evolved with time, but not as much as La Cosa Nostra in America, where they are modernizing themselves.
When the driver opens the door for us, I enter the car, waiting for the tragedy to come.