Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
“Everyone who is anyone will see us together, and that is exactly what we need.”
I’m not sure why, but the words sting. Knowing that the only reason he is taking me out is to make sure people see us together, and that word reaches back to my father. Miami isn’t a hotbed for Italians, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t those who will want to gain his favor by reporting to him that Vitali De Luca married his only daughter.
Dario hadn’t driven us this time. Instead, he led me to a gorgeous luxury blue Rolls-Royce Boat Tail that I’ve only seen in magazines. It is the most expensive street legal new car in the world with a price tag of over $28 million dollars.
The fifteen minute car ride to the restaurant is filled with slightly uncomfortable silence. I know it is my fault that we went from teasing and happy to whatever this is now. Vitali looks almost frustrated at my sudden lack of enthusiasm, and I don’t know how to tell him that I had been excited to go out when I thought it was simply because he wanted to take me out. How do I express to the man who married me for revenge the gut punch his words caused because I thought this was going to be a date where he wanted to spend time with me?
By the time we pull up to the restaurant, I have decided that despite this only being a PR stunt for him, I will do my best to be excited about coming here again. Even if I have to craft my own scenario for how I want this night to go, instead of how I am sure it will.
Pulling up in front of Valet, Vitali holds his finger up, signaling the attendant to wait. I look over at him, puzzled.
“I forgot to give you this,” he says, his hand digging into his inside jacket pocket. My eyes widen when he pulls out a Tiffany blue box and hands it to me. “It took longer than I expected for it to arrive.”
As I lift the lid, my lower jaw quivers at the sight of the stunning ring nestled on white satin, its intricate design captivating me instantly. When he doesn’t move to place the ring on my finger, I take it from its resting place and slide it on myself.
The center stone, a brilliant round-cut diamond, catches the light in a dazzling display, its icy fire mesmerizing. Surrounding it, delicate clusters of smaller diamonds form intricate floral patterns, adding an ethereal charm. The band is a stunning mix of metals—cool-toned white gold embracing the diamonds, while warm yellow gold weaves through the design in delicate, vine-like accents. The combination is both regal and romantic as if plucked from a fairy tale. I run my fingers over the setting, feeling the exquisite craftsmanship, and I can’t help but admire the way the ring seems to tell a story—one of passion, devotion, and timeless beauty.
The ring feels heavy on my finger as if it were a chunk of lead rather than a symbol of love. Its intricate design, crafted with care and attention, should make it feel as light as air. Yet, when he handed it to me, it was with a casual flick of his wrist, as if he were passing over an ordinary trinket rather than the wedding ring meant to bind us forever.
“Thank you,” I say, trying hard to infuse my words with genuine emotion. It seems to work, as Vitali offers me a slight smile before he steps out of the vehicle and comes around to open my door for me. He holds out his hand and helps me out, pressing me tightly against his side while he hands the valet a generous tip.
I can tell by the looks people are shooting our way that they all know who he is. The men dart their eyes away while the women eye him as if he is their next meal. All of them stare at me with unabashed curiosity.
“Mr. De Luca,” the hostess behind the counter gasps, her eyes widening slightly before she rights herself and covers it with a large smile. “We weren’t expecting you.”
“I’m sorry, Katie,” Vitali apologizes gently. “I had the sudden urge to take my beautiful new bride out for the best steak in the city.”
Katie licks her lips when he says her name, but the moment he says bride, her eyes narrow on me. “Of course, Mr. De Luca,” she purrs, batting her long fake lashes at him seductively. Jesus, it looks as if her eyelids are having a seizure. “Let me take you to the best table in the house. Follow me.”
The hostess guides us through the labyrinth of tables. We weave past diners engaged in animated conversations, forks clinking against plates until we reach a secluded spot at the back. Our table is strategically positioned next to an enormous window that stretches from floor to ceiling, offering a stunning panorama of the ocean. The waves shimmer under the moonlight, creating a mesmerizing dance on the water’s surface. It is breathtaking.
“Thank you,” Vitali says, his smile warm and appreciative as he discreetly slips a folded bill into the hostess’s hand. He moves with a gentlemanly grace, pulling out my chair. Once I’m comfortably seated, he settles into the chair beside mine.
“It’s beautiful here,” I remark, my eyes wandering over the elegant décor and the flickering candlelight that casts a gentle glow across the room. “You must come here often.”
Vitali nods, his gaze steady. “A few times a month.”
I nod in return, opening my mouth to continue the conversation, but the waitress approaches. She appears slightly flustered when she sees Vitali but eagerly places down our menus and takes our drink orders.
Around us, the restaurant buzzes with activity, the hum of voices a constant backdrop. I notice a few curious glances directed our way. Whispers are exchanged behind hands. This is exactly what my husband wants.
Choosing to ignore the attention, I reach for my phone, my fingers tapping across the screen.
“I didn’t bring you here so that you can play on your phone all night, little deer,” Vitali’s voice rumbles, tinged with frustration.
“No. You brought me here to make sure my father knows we are together.” I offer him a small shrug, my eyes still on the screen. “Mission accomplished by the looks of it,” I add, noting the subtle shift in the room’s atmosphere as if our presence has set an unspoken narrative in motion.
“Is that why you are acting as if it is a burden to be here?” he asks, his eyebrows raised and voice laced with genuine curiosity. I shoot him a sharp glare. The kind that makes him mutter under his breath and shake his head in frustration. “You know we need to rile up your father. We need him to act irrationally. Make a mistake. Knowing you are with me will cause him to do that.”
I take a deep breath, steadying myself, and turn slightly in my chair to face the man who has become my husband. I remember how I used to dream of marriage as a little girl. I imagined catching the eye of a handsome prince who would swoop in on a white horse, rescuing me from my father’s oppressive grasp. A man who would love me unconditionally, who would offer me his heart freely, someone who truly wanted to be with me and didn’t just see me as another mafia wife to satisfy his needs and then forget about until I was required again.
“I understand, Vitali,” I assure him, my tone calm and even. Yet inside, it feels as if my heart is crumbling to pieces. Not because I foolishly thought he had fallen in love with me, but because, against all odds, I have fallen in love with him. My heart, betraying reason, has decided that the man sitting beside me, with his cold eyes and calculating demeanor, is the one it wants. But to him, I am nothing more than a necessary transaction, a means to an end.
It all comes back to his revenge, and I am merely a pawn in his grand scheme, destined to be used and discarded when the time comes.
He may be the king on the chessboard, commanding the game, but I am certainly not his queen.
Vitali groans as he runs his hand down his face in frustration. He shakes his head, jaw clenching and unclenching as he takes a few measured breaths.
“I wanted to take you out tonight, Gia,” he presses. “Not just so that we could be seen together. Yes, that needed to happen, but I still just wanted to take my wife out for a nice night out. ”
Say that again?
I don’t get the chance to question what he is saying because the waitress comes back around to take our order. Her timing couldn’t be worse, but at least she isn’t flirting with my husband. As we place our orders, she scurries off, no doubt sensing the sudden tension hanging in the air between us.
The moment her back is turned, Vitali cups my face with his strong hands and pulls me in for a kiss that steals my breath away. With a subtle, fluid movement, he shifts my chair closer, enveloping me in an intimate cocoon, hidden from the prying eyes of the main restaurant.
“I’d be lying if I said I don’t have feelings for you,” he whispers seductively in my ear, his voice a soft caress. “Ever since the first moment I saw you in the dim glow of that tiny cabin, and you ran from me like a frightened little deer.”
Vitali hooks his hand under my knee, effortlessly lifting the leg closest to him so that my thighs are spread apart. His fingers trail lazily up my inner thigh, igniting a fire beneath my skin, and I have to stifle the gasp that threatens to escape. My eyes dart nervously to the rest of the restaurant, wary of being seen, but Vitali doesn’t allow me to dwell on that thought. Instead, he lightly pinches my inner thigh, commanding my attention.
“Eyes on me, wife.” His voice is smooth yet commanding, and I can’t help but meet his gaze. His hazel eyes, flecked with gold, dance with a mischievous light as he smiles down at me, a playful glint that makes my heart race. “Good girl.”
He reaches into the frosty glass of ice the waitress had left on the table earlier and selects a small, glistening ice cube. With a deliberate motion, his free hand gathers the fabric of my dress, scrunching the hem up to my waist. The cool air brushes against my exposed skin, and I lick my lips, feeling both excitement and nervous anticipation.
“Keep those eyes on me, Gia,” he instructs once more, his voice a gentle yet firm reminder. I focus on him intently as he guides the ice cube toward my aching core. He draws a deliberate, chilly line along the edge of my panties before slowly slipping the ice inside. His lips curl into a knowing smirk as he lowers the ice further, finally releasing it. The icy cube glides down, settling directly against my clit, sending a shiver through my body.
My core tightens involuntarily, and Vitali chuckles when a small, sharp gasp escapes my lips. Instinctively, I start to move my hand toward my legs, seeking relief, but his voice cuts through the haze of my desire.
“Keep your fucking hands on the table, wife,” he growls, a low, possessive command.
I want to protest, to remind him that we’re seated in the middle of a bustling restaurant, but the waitress appears around the corner, balancing our plates. The ice pressing against my clit makes it nearly impossible to remain still, my mind a whirlwind of sensations as the stinging cold heightens the sensitivity of my flesh, leaving me both flustered and deeply aroused.
“Eyes, Gia,” Vitali commands in a low, icy tone the moment his gaze falls on the wayward look I cast toward the waitress. My heart flutters, and I press my lower lip between my teeth, gazing up at him beneath long, heavy lashes.
The waitress glides gracefully to our table, her steps soft on the polished wood as she places our plates with practiced ease. All the while, Vitali’s hand remains firmly on my thigh—his skin warm and assertive—while his dark eyes maintain a calm, confident poise. Meanwhile, my racing thoughts tangle with the desperate need to keep my hands planted on the table, my body rigid with the secret thrill I’m determined to hide from any prying eyes.
“Let me know if you need anything else,” she offers in a gentle, detached tone as she retreats.
Vitali gives a subtle nod, a slow smile curving his lips as his dark eyes, brimming with hunger, return their focus to me the instant she rounds the corner. The moment she rounds the corner, he deliberately plucks another ice cube from his glass. This time, holding it with deliberate firmness, he plunges his hand beneath the delicate fabric of my panties and begins to trace rough, calculated circles around my sensitive clit.
My back bows against the chair as a shudder ripples through me, my pelvis instinctively tilting away from the sharp, cooling sensation. Every ounce of my being is tethered to his gaze, even as my body rebels against the overwhelming pleasure.
“Such a good fucking wife,” he murmurs in a husky tone, pressing the ice harder against me. The sensation is too much, and I squirm under his touch, yet he continues with an unyielding intensity. Slowly, he glides the ice lower, letting it rim the cube along the slick curve of my wet entrance. My eyes widen, and a silent moan escapes as my trembling hand grips the edge of the table, anchoring me in place.
“Vitali,” I gasp in a low, desperate whisper. His cocky smirk only fuels my conflicted desire, even as his thumb caresses my swollen clit, sending sparks of searing pleasure through every nerve.
Before long, my panting escalates into desperate, pleading breaths. I rock my hips in a frantic bid to generate some needed friction, but Vitali’s control remains unyielding.
“Behave,” he warns in a dark, velvety whisper, his fingers pinching my clit with a firmness that brooks no argument.
“Please,” I plead, barely audible, “I can’t take much more.”
His eyes glisten with a hungry intensity as he licks his lips, leaning in so that his warm, moist breath cascades over me, igniting a trail of tingling arousal on my sensitive skin.
“You want to come, wife?” he asks, his tone laced with both challenge and promise.
“Yes,” I manage to whisper, the single word heavy with both trepidation and yearning.
A slow smile curves his lips as he swipes the ice over my bundle of nerves one more time before replacing it with the commanding pressure of his thumb.
“Then let’s see what a quiet little mouse you can be while you come for me. Soak my hand, little wife,” he teases in a husky cadence. With deliberate intent, he pushes the remaining fragment of the ice cube deeper into my core, provoking a sharp, involuntary jerk of my body, before sliding his finger in to join its cool intrusion.
“Vitali,” I whimper, my voice lost in the haze of rising pleasure as he works me with a relentless rhythm. His finger thrusts in and out of my slick, pleading pussy while his thumb expertly dances over my pleasure center, driving me further into euphoria.
“Come for me, principessa ,” he commands, his tone both insistent and tender. Helplessly, I surrender to his will as he buries another finger deep inside me, his groan overtaking any protest as his dexterous assaults push me closer to the brink. Amid the frenzy, he mutes my moan with a searing kiss, his tongue dueling with mine with a ferocity that mirrors the wild pace of his fingers. My pussy convulses with each passing moment of orgasmic release, tightening desperately around his intrusions while my fingers grip the table so hard that every joint sings with strain.
“ Perfetta ,” he murmurs as he draws back slightly, his tongue softly trailing over my lower lip. His fingers begin a slow, tantalizing withdrawal, passing over every sensitized inch of my skin until he holds them up for me to see the undeniable evidence of my arousal. “Clean me up, little deer.”
He watches with a ravenous stare as I suck down his fingers. My tongue explores every curve and crevice, meticulously savoring and cleaning away the evidence of my orgasm. I thought it would be weird tasting myself, but I am pleasantly surprised at the sweetness of it.
When he pulls out of my mouth, I suck him the whole way until he’s free and then pull him closer so he can taste me on my lips. He runs his tongue over mine in an unhurried, yet insistent dance, tasting the remnants of my arousal. With a low, guttural growl, he deepens the kiss, his fingers cupping the back of my head firmly as his tongue plunges into my mouth, fervently reclaiming its territory in the heat of our shared desire.
Shit, I want to climb this man like Mount Everest right here in the restaurant. Before I can act on my insane idea, Vitali pulls back, his face flushed with desire. “Time to eat, little deer,” he groans. “Any more and I am going to have to kill everyone in the restaurant because they are going to see me fuck you right here on this table.”
He doesn’t pull away immediately but takes a few deep breaths. When he gets himself under control, he places a gentle kiss on the side of my head and sits straighter in his chair.
“You are going to love this,” he smiles, pushing my plate in front of me. Straightening my skirt under the table, I give him a soft smile of my own before eyeing the wagyu steak and accompaniments hungrily. Orgasming works up an appetite.
The rest of the dinner is spent laughing and enjoying the atmosphere together. Being with Vitali, now that we’ve cleared the air, is much better than I thought it would be. He’s easy to be around when he isn’t being a roaring jackass and quickly makes me forget about the other reason we are here tonight.
When neither of us can eat anymore, he pays for the meal, leaving another generous tip. It is such an odd American custom. Most places in Italy charge an automatic servizio of ten percent which is a built-in tip for their wait staff. In some places, it is an insult to leave a tip. Pushing his chair back, he holds out his hand. Blushing, I take it, still feeling the stickiness of my arousal painting my inner thighs.
“Let’s go home, wife.”
Home.
Maybe some dreams do come true.