41. The Boss
Chapter forty-one
The Boss
(Danica)
The familiar scent of vanilla and butter greets me before I even open the kitchen door. Two months since we returned from Bali, and the feared Don Fera has become a master baker. Imagine that.
"What smells so amazing?" I call out, dropping my briefcase by the door. The meeting with the Port Authority had run late, but coming home to this almost made up for it.
Biscotti races to greet me, tail wagging furiously. Behind him, Dante stands at the counter, flour dusting his black t-shirt, those curls he's letting grow falling into his eyes.
“Cinnamon rolls,” he says, then notices my expression. “What is it? Did the meeting go badly?”
Instead of answering, I pull the papers from my bag, holding them up like a trophy. The official seals gleam under the kitchen lights.
“Are those…?” Dante wipes his hands on a dish towel, moving closer.
"The terminal operating contracts. All of them." My grin threatens to split my face. "Plus exclusive rights to stevedoring services across the entire port district. We control every ship that comes in and out of the city now."
His eyes scan the documents, lingering on the signatures of the Port Authority board members. "I can't believe you got these."
“You know I can be very persuasive.” I hop onto the counter.
Dante kneels to help with my shoes, carefully unclasping the gold buckles of my heels. His fingers linger on my ankles before getting up. “That sounds kinky.”
"I wish. Nah, it was just another board meeting.
Boring as shit. They were happy to sign everything over to our new port management corporation.
Anything to get rid of the 'pesky Russians.
' Turns out they weren't just causing shit for us, but for everyone.
Even the Port Authority was at their wit's end with those fuckers.
Nothing was coming in or out on time, if at all.
And so much shit just went 'missing,' never to be seen again.
It was making the customs officials nervous. "
“So they give us control of all the port operations in exchange for what exactly?” Dante is still skeptical, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But there is no other shoe, not this time.
"Stability. A guarantee that things will start flowing properly again. Plus..." I pause for effect, "I got us the contract to handle all customs processing and security operations. We'll have our people checking every container that moves through this city.”
He arches a brow. "And...?"
A grin spreads over my face. "And…digging up dirt on three board members and the head of customs definitely helped the situation along."
“Danica! You’re devious!”
“I’ve learned from the best.” I pull him closer for a kiss, wrapping my legs around his waist.
Dante suddenly pauses. “Did you take some guards with you?”
“To a board meeting? No, silly.”
"You went alone?" That worried crease appears between his brows. “Danica..."
"We're safer than we've ever been, darling.” I run my fingers through his curls, smoothing away his concern. “I wish you wouldn’t fret so much.”
He doesn't say anything, just holds me. We both know I am right, though.
Everything has changed now. Our business runs on spreadsheets and contracts now, not violence.
With control of port operations, customs processing, and security services, we've got more power than any amount of muscle could give us.
This was the final missing piece to make us legitimate. The families were on board, for the most part, but we needed the government agencies to play ball too.
I feel like a fucking rock star, standing here in our kitchen, holding the key to the city’s shipping empire in my manicured hands.
If my high school guidance counselor could see me now—little Danica Matthews from the suburbs, the underachiever, the failure.
Instead, I'm La Donna Fera, and I just outmaneuvered a boardroom full of men who've been running these ports since before I was born.
They never saw me coming. That's always been my advantage—they look at me and see a trophy wife, arm candy for a Don. They don't know who I’ve become, who I’m working to become.
The Port Authority suits practically tripped over themselves trying to hand me those contracts once I laid out exactly what would happen if they didn't.
It wasn't even about the blackmail material in the end—though, that certainly helped.
It was about showing them a future where their precious port district could actually function the way it's supposed to.
No more "lost" shipments, no more delays, no more dealing with six different families all trying to carve out their piece.
Just one streamlined operation, legitimate on paper, with enough muscle behind it to keep everyone in line.
Dante squeezes my hand, bringing me back to the present, to the kitchen filled with delicious-smelling treats that would upset my trainer’s perfectly designed eating plan. “Are you sure I can’t help you at work?” Dante asks, staring intently into my eyes. “I feel bad just sitting at home all day.”
I stroke his cheek. “Are you bored, baby?”
“Not at all.” Dante’s face perks up, and I smile. “I must show you my new painting.”
Ever since I bought him some paint supplies, he’s thrown himself into the arts with vigor, spending hours upon hours in his new studio in the West Wing while I was out dealing with business things.
“Then stay here, enjoy your early retirement, and let me play boss bitch at the office. I’m enjoying the setting up of it all. Besides, you know I’ve got a legit team. You hired them yourself.”
“We hired them.” Dante smiles, pushing my skirt higher up over my thighs. “And this?” He raises an eyebrow, distracted from the conversation.
I wink at him. “You finally noticed.”
“Please tell me you didn’t go to work without panties?”
I blow him a kiss. “Oh yeah, I did. It makes me feel more bad-ass.”
“Crazy woman.” Dante shakes his head, eyes still firmly locked on my bush.
“On your knees again, darling,” I command as I drop my stockinged feet onto Dante’s lap, tracing the hardness forming under his loose-fitting grey sweatpants. Just lightly, oh so lightly. His cock is virtually fully heal now.
“You’re the Devil,” Dante gasps, bucking his hips into me, slowly rubbing himself against my dirty stockings, sweaty from my day of hustling and business-ing.
“You’re not wrong. Now take that cock out.”
“Danica, the staff are around. What if someone comes in?”
“Do I need to repeat myself?” I thicken my voice, tapping my fingers on the counter to accent my impatience.
“No, Madame.” Dante looks around nervously before slipping his hard cock from his pants.
“Good.” I trail my feet over his cock, enjoying the lust flickering over his face, the hiss as he sharply draws in breath. “I’m just teasing, baby. You know I’m not going to let you come.”
“Please.” Dante’s voice is soft, needy.
I shake my head from side to side. “Nah-uh.”
Dante sighs dejected, sitting back on his heels and looking at his sad cock, half erect but with no hope of release. Not yet.
“You could earn some credits in the meantime, though?” I wink at him, and he nods eagerly.
I don’t pull him into my cunt, no, not today. Instead, I hop off the counter, turning around, skirt hiked all the way up to my waist.
Dante immediately gets the memo and pulls a nearby chair toward him. One foot on the floor, the other in the air, I lean forward on the kitchen counter, pushing my ass out to my husband.
My stockings are knee-high only, so there is no need to take them off.
Dante doesn’t hesitate, just hooks his arms around my legs and parts my cheeks with his face, driving his tongue into the depths of my back hole.
I moan loudly, warding off people rather than attracting them—I hope.
“Just like that, oh god,” I purr, wriggling under Dante’s tongue as he flicks it over my asshole, devouring me like a hungry boy desperate for his dessert.
I could get used to this homecoming after a long day at work. Perhaps a nice bath afterward, a foot massage…my thoughts trail off as my circuits flood with sensation, Dante’s mouth exciting more nerve endings than I remember being back there.
Gasping, I clutch the counter as he eats my ass, doing a fucking good job at that. Top marks for stress relief.
“Dante…” I moan as he fans his fingers over my clit, finding even more buttons to push.
The thought of possible discovery fuels my explosive orgasm that follows minutes later.
I come over my husband’s face with little warning, my whole body jerking and squirming in pleasure that radiates from my skin through my insides. Oh god!
Nobody walks in, luckily. As much as the idea is hot, I don’t want to traumatize the staff. They’re usually quite good at keeping their distance if Dante and I are in a room, unless we explicitly call them.
Still, the perceived exposure is exhilarating! Especially for poor Dante, who wants nothing but to come all over my dirty stockings…Poor boy, not today.
And they said marriage would be boring.
Gasping, clutching the counter as the last shivers of the orgasm flash through my body. I’m desperate for more. “Let’s take this to the bedroom, baby.”
Just because Dante can’t have any fun doesn’t mean I can’t.
The cinnamon rolls can wait.
La Donna Fera has some personal business to take care of.