24. Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Four
Maximo
Ireturn to the ballroom, but I no longer have any interest in being here. Not after the greenhouse.
My body is still buzzing from having Mia so close, and the urge to drag her onto my lap still hasn’t fully left my system.
Control. I will it back into my body.
I delivered Mia to Aldo, who has taken her and the rest of the Accardis back to his house.
Adjusting the cuff of my jacket, I continue through the crowd toward Gabe and Rafa, who are in conversation with a couple of our capos.
Men straighten subtly as I pass, and space opens around me.
That’s better. Predictable.
Unlike Mialina Accardi, with her sharp mouth and refusal to behave the way she should. But if I’m being honest, it’s refreshing not knowing what she might say or do next.
“Don Maximo.” Vittoria approaches, her golden gown shimmering beneath the crystal lights.
Her persistence annoys me. I continue walking, yet she keeps pace beside me.
“I feel like you’re avoiding me,” she says in a voice that’s meant to be flirtatious.
“You’re mistaken.”
She barely ever registers.
“Is Mialina Accardi the intended bride you mentioned all those weeks ago?” she asks, slightly breathless as she struggles to match my stride.
I stop walking and look at her. The directness surprises me.
Until now, Vittoria clearly believed she remained a serious contender to become the next Mrs. Marco. Mia’s arrival has forced the situation into focus.
Nearby conversations thin around us. Vittoria glances around before lowering her voice.
“When nothing further happened after the succession ceremony, I assumed it was a false alarm. You and I have always gotten along so well.”
Her fingers settle against my sleeve, lingering there with a familiarity she hasn’t earned.
“I thought if there were serious intentions elsewhere,” she continues softly, “you would have made that clearer to me.”
Apparently, basic indifference is no longer enough to discourage people.
I still don’t speak.
“But after earlier tonight, people are talking,” she says carefully. “They’ve seen us together, but they also noticed the way you were watching her.”
A coy smile curves her mouth, meant to entice me. When I still say nothing, that smile wavers.
I stare at her for a long moment before holding out my arm. Relief flashes across her face so quickly it almost bores me.
She slips her hand through my arm, chin lifting as nearby guests notice us together. I lead her across the ballroom.
Her father, Giulio Bellandi, is a high-ranking capo who’s been angling for this match for the past two years. He stands speaking with two other men near one of the stone columns lining the ballroom.
His expression shifts the moment he sees us approaching, and he dismisses the other men.
“Don Maximo.”
I stop in front of him and calmly remove Vittoria’s hand from my arm.
“Your daughter has overstepped tonight.”
Vittoria pales as silence settles around us. Her father’s attention sharpens considerably.
“Has she offended you?”
“She questioned me inappropriately regarding private matters.” My voice remains even. “I won’t tolerate that kind of behavior.”
Understanding settles across the capo’s face. Beside him, Vittoria realizes this isn’t about manners. This is a warning.
“Father, I only—”
“Enough,” he hisses.
The single word slices cleanly through her protest. His gaze returns to me.
“You have my apologies, Don Maximo. It won’t happen again.”
A tense beat passes, then Giulio turns toward his daughter.
“You will return home now.”
Humiliation washes over Vittoria’s face. Good. Lessons that sting tend to last longer.
She opens her mouth like she wants to argue, but one look from her father kills the impulse. Without another word, Bellandi escorts her from the ballroom himself.
Gabe joins me moments later, handing me a glass of whiskey. Having seen me return with Mia earlier, he gives me a conspiratorial smile.
“What was that about?” he asks. “Has she not taken the hint?”
“Apparently not.” I take the whiskey from him. “Somehow she convinced herself that standing beside me entitled her to more.”
She pushed because she wants power, or more likely her father does.
Mia pushes too. But for entirely different reasons. She resists because it’s in her nature, not because she wants something from me. Quite the opposite, actually.
Gabe smirks. “Mia’s defiance doesn’t seem to bother you.” Not a question, but a statement.
No, it doesn’t. If anything, I respect her more for it.
“She has intelligence beneath the rebellion,” I say. “Instinct too. She knows when to provoke and when to retreat.”
I take a slow sip of whiskey, savoring the burn.
“That kind of fire doesn’t concern me. It can be directed. Refined.”
Claimed.
The final word stays in my head. Gabe grins as if he heard it.
“Be careful, brother. Even contained fires can get out of control.”
“Not in my hands.”
I clap him once on the shoulder before heading toward the staircase leading to my private quarters.
The moment the doors close behind me, I loosen my tie and remove my cufflinks. Stepping to the window, I look out onto the garden. The greenhouse lights are dimmed now, glowing like banked fire in the darkness.
I stare at it a little longer before pulling the drapes closed.
I should be thinking about alliances, stability beneath my new reign, and the ongoing issues with the Romeros. Instead, my thoughts drift to Mia.
It bothers me that I missed her discovering the greenhouse. By the time I joined her, she had her defenses back in place.
I step toward the desk tucked into the corner of the sitting room and open my laptop. A few keystrokes later, the estate security feed appears on the screen. I enlarge the greenhouse footage and rewind it to when Mia slips out of the ballroom.
Then I watch.
Wrapped in what appears to be white tablecloths, she pauses outside the entrance, hesitating before curiosity wins out.
I can tell she’s freezing. Reckless woman. It’s becoming more and more obvious she requires supervision.
Wandering around in an evening gown during a Chicago winter was foolish. This isn’t Sicily. Though I doubt she’ll make that mistake again. She doesn’t strike me as someone who needs the same lesson twice.
She steps inside and slowly turns beneath the hanging orchids and lanterns, taking everything in. Her eyes are wide, and her lips part. The wonder is impossible to miss. Then a smile spreads across her face. She looks… enchanted.
I knew she would love it. Every detail of that greenhouse was designed to appeal to her.
She settles onto the sofa beside the fireplace, looking at ease there, almost as though she’d always belonged.
She does.
Mialina Accardi belongs in my world.
Then Bruce’s daughter appears beside her. My head gardener has spent weeks preparing the conservatory for Mia’s arrival, and his daughter has been helping him plant and arrange every detail.
Judging by the expression on Mia’s face, the effort was worthwhile.
I watch until the moment I enter, and Mia’s defenses slide back into place.
I fast-forward to the moment we nearly kiss and zoom in on her face. The conflict inside her is obvious. She wants me, but refuses to admit it.
My little rebel, you might as well give in. This isn’t a fight you can win.
I shut the laptop and head for the shower with the image of her still fixed in my mind.
Shrugging off my clothes, I step beneath the spray. Steam curls around me as I close my eyes and let the hot water run over my skin.
Those last moments with Mia in the greenhouse return with brutal clarity. Her breathing changed first. Then her pulse. I felt both beneath my fingers.
She tilted toward me without even realizing it. Her eyes had gone unfocused, drawn to my mouth as if she’d forgotten every reason she should resist.
Another few seconds and I would have kissed her. And she would have let me.
I felt the exact moment her body stopped fighting the pull between us and started leaning into it instead.
She was halfway to surrender when I opened my mouth. In hindsight, speaking might have been a mistake. Lesson learned.
I stand beneath the hot spray, trying to relax my body.
Mia may defy me, but her body reacts to me all the same. Mine certainly does, even just thinking about her.
My cock is rock hard to the point of pain. A slow breath leaves me as tension coils tighter beneath my skin. I tilt my head back and let the water stream over my face, but it does nothing to clear Mia from my thoughts.
Those dark eyes.
That wicked mouth.
Soon I’ll have Mia on her knees for me, pleasing me. I grip my length, imagining pushing into Mia’s mouth until she’s taken every single inch of me down her throat.
Her tongue swirls around my cock as I thrust into the warmth of her mouth. She swallows hard, the movement of her muscles enough to make me come undone.
My hand moves faster until the pressure becomes unbearable.
“Fuck,” I groan as I let go.
My cock jerks in my hand as ropes of cum mix with the water raining down on me. Bracing my arms against the marble tiles, I rest my forehead against them as I work to regain my breath.
I haven’t come this hard in a long time.
But this wasn’t a loss of control. Merely pressure demanding release.
My heart is still pounding and I want more. The real thing. Mia in my bed. Ideally, her stomach rounded with the next Marco heir.
The thought has me hardening all over again.
Christ.
I won’t allow myself a second round, though. I have more discipline than this.
Turning off the water, I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my waist.
This situation has dragged on long enough. Seeing Mia tonight seems to have only sharpened the urgency instead of easing it.
I want her installed at my side, instead of her fleeing every time I get too close.
I grab another towel to dry my hair.
Very soon, Mialina Accardi is going to stop fighting what’s inescapable.
Then I’ll have her beneath me, and I have no doubt she’ll take just as much pleasure in her surrender as I will in claiming it.