39. Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Mariella
I enter my room with a goofy grin and fall on my bed.
Wow, I kissed Mateo De Marco!
And what a kiss it was! So all-consuming and raw, like he wanted to eat me!
It’s on a continuous loop in my mind, and my body is buzzing.
I grab my pillow and let out a long, muffled squeal into the fabric as laughter bubbles uncontrollably from my chest. My feet tap rapidly against the mattress, the chaotic rhythm matching the surge of my giddy energy.
Are all kisses like that?
I imagined my first kiss a lot .
And, of course, Mateo always starred in those daydreams. But reality rarely measures up to fantasy, right?
Except this time, it did.
No, it was beyond anything my mind had dreamed up!
Probably because it was Mateo, who’s undoubtedly had plenty of experience kissing and everything that comes after.
Argh!!!
I don’t want to think about him kissing other women! Or doing it with them.
I want him to myself.
Could a man like him ever be a one-woman man?
Unlikely.
Memories of seeing him with other women flood back. They would have been experienced. They would have known what to do in bed, how to please him, and how to hold his attention.
A wave of jealousy crashes over me. I want to be in their place, with their confidence, their knowledge, their experience.
I want to do all the things they did with Mateo.
Get a grip, Mari. That’s impossible. You have to stay a virgin until your wedding night.
Argh! The world is so unfair to women in the Mafia!
But I’m comforted by the fact that Mateo actually wanted me.
Me!
I could feel him. When I melted against him, his hard penis pressed up against my abdomen. It was… big.
Not that I have any experience to compare it to. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he was huge.
There’s nothing average about that man.
I touch my lips. Even an hour later, they’re still swollen and tingly.
His kisses were so full of want that my panties turned into a damp mess, and it had nothing to do with the pouring rain.
That alone took the entire experience up a notch. It felt cinematic, like something straight out of a dream.
And he wants me to go with him to a club tonight. He said he’ll take care of a dress, but what should I do with my hair and makeup?
I’ve never been out to a place like that.
I sit up, chewing on my lip. My eyes fall on a parcel on my bedside table.
The smile on my face grows impossibly large.
Another present? Mateo is spoiling me.
I pick it up and realize it was posted to me. Turning the parcel around, I check the address, and all my giddiness disappears.
The parcel is on the small side, no bigger than the box Mateo gave me earlier.
With trepidation, I tear it open and find a sleek black phone inside. It’s not beautiful like the one Mateo gave me.
How could it be?
That phone is perfection. For starters, it’s in my favorite color. How did he know that, anyway?
And to make it even more special, he’d had the same wild horses design from my guitar and the bench under the oak tree etched into the case. Every time I look at it, I smile, wanting to get out my guitar and play that song. He’s so thoughtful.
The phone in my hand, though? It’s plain, utilitarian, and black like the soul of the sender.
It’s heavier in my hand than it should be, pressing down on me in a way I can’t explain.
This isn’t a gift. It’s an expectation. A demand.
I drop the box back onto the bed as if it’s burned me. The happy anticipation that had been bubbling under my skin mere moments ago is replaced by a cold, sinking dread.
I spot a sticky note on the lid and take in my father’s handwriting.
When I call, you answer. I want a report every night at nine.
A report?
Of what? It’s not like I’m privy to information.
And there’s no way in hell I’m sharing anything about what’s happening between Mateo and me with my father. God knows what he’d do then.
Crap, what now?
My good mood has vanished, blown away like smoke in the wind, leaving a bitter taste in its wake.
I glance at the phone again, its dark screen an unspoken reminder of what it represents, control, surveillance, chains I can’t seem to break.
How am I supposed to balance this?
Being with Mateo is like an exciting escape from everything I’ve known, but now my father’s shadow looms large, casting doubts over the tentative steps I was daring to take.
He’s watching me, isn’t he?
Father has his goons planted everywhere.
Why does he need me?
And how am I meant to talk to him tonight when I’ll be out with Mateo?
I press the power button on the phone, watching as the screen lights up, then hold it down until it powers off. If the phone isn’t on, he can’t call me.
Problem solved.
If only it were that simple.
With a sigh, I open the drawer of my bedside table and place the phone next to Isa’s. For a moment, I hesitate, then pull out the phone Mateo gave me and drop it in the drawer as well.
Three phones.
I went through twenty years of my life without owning a single one, and now, in the span of a few days, I’ve somehow ended up with three.