Chapter 26
LORENZO
Man, how is it that I’ve lived in this apartment for years and don’t know how to run a bath?
Ciro is just a phone call away. But I don’t want to involve Ciro.
I don’t want him to see her like this. Undone. Exposed. I crouch over the tub and run my hand under the faucet, adjusting until the temperature feels right.
The last time I ran a bath for someone else was for Luca.
Our mom had just passed. The housekeeper was out.
I remember the bathroom being cold, the tiles white and unforgiving.
I gave Luca a rubber ducky, dried him off, and put him into bed.
Easy.
Could there be one in Emily’s bathroom?
I start opening the vanity drawers beside her make-up station.
No rubber duckies in the first drawer. Just lingerie with their price tags still attached.
Must be the fruit of a shopping spree with Antoine.
I’m about to close the drawer, but before I do, have an idea.
Why not leave one of the lingerie ensembles by the sink so Emily will see it, not leave it to languish in the darkness of that drawer.
My cock twitches at the thought of seeing her in this lacy pantie and bra set.
Then I resume my hunt for things ladies demand for a ‘relaxing bath.’ Though for me, a relaxing bath has me and my hard dick in it.
I hit the jackpot when I open the cabinet beneath the sink. It’s stocked with bubble bath and candles, leftovers from my bachelor days when I occasionally brought women home.
As I light a candle as the finishing touch, I feel like a five-star concierge as I strike the match.
When I return, Emily is still on the sofa, her arms wrapped around her knees.
“Come,” I say, taking her hand and helping her up. “It’s ready for you.”
I lead her to the bathroom. The lights are dimmed and the candle flickers.
“I’ll step away while you take off your clothes.”
“No. Stay. Just turn your back while I slip into the tub.”
I do what she says. When I hear the sound of water splashing, I ask if I can turn around instead of just doing it.
“Yes, of course. The water’s perfect, by the way.”
I sit on the little ottoman before her marble make-up counter.
She looks beautiful under that mound of foamy bubbles. Like a commercial for some bath product or something.
Emily winces as she runs the large foam bath sponge over her shoulder.
“It still stings?” I ask.
“I’ll be okay.”
I remind myself Emily’s been through a lot this evening. She’s not like me or my brothers. She didn’t grow up with violence.
When she’s had enough, I grab one of the fluffy heated towels from the rack and hold it open.
I struggle to avert my eyes as she steps into it.
“I’m okay now. I’ll just finish getting ready for bed.”
I leave the bathroom, pour myself a second scotch, then think about what Emily said about the restaurant.
Given that I’m running both the casino and the nightclub, no way would I be able to fit it in my schedule again.
It seems like an eternity since Gina, Luca, and I first convinced Dante to buy the restaurant.
Luca and I spotted the restaurant before Gina even married Dante. We both thought it would be a great asset for Ricci Holdings.
But it was Gina’s enthusiasm that really made the restaurant idea come to life.
Well, the reality is that after Gina gives birth, she likely won’t have the same time or energy.
She needs someone like Emily to bring it to fruition.
I hear Emily stirring in the bedroom. I get up and walk through the half-open doorway.
“Again?” I ask, seeing she’s constructing that ridiculous pillow wall.
She doesn’t answer.
“Do you want some help?”
“No, thank you,” she says in that prim New England speak of hers.
I watch her a minute. Then try for a joke. “If I wanted to take you, do you really think a pillow is gonna stop me?”
“No,” she says, turning to me with a smile. “But I’m curious. Why are you single in your early thirties?”
“Single? I’m married to you, right?” I say, keeping my tone light.
But Emily isn’t buying into the lightness.
“What are you afraid of, Lorenzo Ricci? Are you afraid of having a wife? Or a real life? You run a nightclub. Beautiful girls every night of the week. I saw one of them right there in your nightstand.”
“A girl on my nightstand?” I joke. “Are you sure you weren’t hallucinating?”
She purses her lips.
“Not the girl. Her purple signature on a cocktail napkin. With a little heart. You have very strange taste in women, Lorenzo.”
“What I do is no business of yours. You will show me respect.”
Her eyes flash at my tone.
When she tries to shove me away, I grab her hands.
The motion knocks out the gold pin holding her updo.
Emily’s beautiful auburn hair tumbles down.
I stand there, stunned by her beauty at that moment. Her burning cheeks, her flaming hair.
She takes advantage of my focus on this to slap me. Then she stops. We both look at one another, breathless.
Working on instinct, I kiss her.
Emily’s hand moves to my face as if to push me away. Her fingers splay against my jaw. But then her palm softens and her fingers curl into the collar of my shirt, pulling me toward her.
I open her robe. Run my hands over the curve of her breasts, the warmth of her skin against my palms.
Then lower, tracing the soft plane of her stomach, the jut of her hip bones.
“We, we can’t,” she says, breaking away from my lips, her breath unsteady.
“You’re my wife. Why can’t we?”
I press the firm hard length of me against her. I feel silk panties obstructing my cock and rip them off.
She gasps. “I want you.”
I press the tip of my cock against her opening, feeling her pussy’s pulsations.
She’s ready for me. I can tell.
“Tell me. Do you want this too?”