Cosa Nostra by Emma Nichols) 16656409 (z-lib.org) (1)-compressed

by Неизвестный

  always expected Giovanni would be elected, and that would have been with

  her blessing. He had been the son her father had never had, an older brother

  to her, but out of loyalty he would never stand against her. She would have

  to work hard to convince him to put himself forward. Donna Maria

  Lombardo. Who was she? Who would she become?

  2.

  Maria hesitated, her heart running at a steady beat. She opened the

  penthouse suite door with a steady hand. Though she expected the

  overbearing scent of perfume that lingered in the corridor, inhaling the

  heady aroma inside the expansive bedroom amplified her revulsion. This

  space, and the fragrance that hung in the warm air, reeked of deception and

  desperation. That truth didn’t prevent the throbbing sensation between her

  legs from intensifying as she crossed the room. She cursed silently, and not

  for the first time, her body’s acute carnal response to Patrina’s sensual

  presence. She removed her jacket and hung it neatly on the coat stand, then

  walked with practised confidence to the side of the grand walnut table and

  removed her holstered weapon. The sense of her every move being watched

  heightened her arousal. She needed to prevaricate, gather her resolve, to do

  the right thing. Damn you, Patrina, for making this so hard.

  She removed the crystal stopper of the decanter, poured herself a

  large glass of Courvoisier XO cognac, and downed it in one long swig. The

  fiery sensation clamping her throat was a welcome distraction from the

  burning gaze calling her. The drink wouldn’t defuse her desire, though she

  wished it could. She willed it to. Tonight, once and for all, she needed to

  walk away. She moved her hand slowly, tenderly stroking the cloth seat

  exquisitely decorated with soft tones of turquoise blue and woven with an

  intricate gold thread.

  She took a long, deep breath and released it silently before turning

  to face Patrina lying naked on the large round bed at the other side of the

  room. The light always complemented Patrina’s olive skin, smoothing the

  fine lines that would otherwise reveal Patrina’s age. Maria had studied the

  difference in their bodies, the subtle changes over the years as they laid

  together. Despite over a decade between them, Patrina’s body was

  impressively ageless.

  Patrina was waiting for her, wanting her, smiling at her in the way

  that she always did when getting what she wanted, when taking what she

  wanted. Determination warred with desire in every cell of Maria’s body,

  and the tension in her jaw reminded her of the ramifications of the decision

  she’d taken. Patrina wouldn’t take rejection well. She parted her lips and

  inhaled deeply, alleviating the pressure. She stared across the room, her

  pulse racing. Was she already losing the battle she had come here to fight?

  Closing her eyes, she committed to her intent. At the very least, she would

  make Patrina wait.

  She averted her eyes and mused her fondness for the private room

  that had become their haven for the past six years that they had shared a

  bed. The gold ornate trim of the headboard, a feature of the classical

  Asnaghi design, handcrafted with elegance, upon which she had rested her

  head as they had talked about a future together all those years ago. The

  matching armchairs around the table that were identical in every minute

  detail, on which they had sat and dined together. Rare moments of bliss, an

  illusion shattered by life.

  Maria valued precision. It was a demonstration of standards, an

  assurance in the craftsmanship that had created something distinctive,

  beautiful, and timeless. Her eyes narrowed as she cherished for the last time

  the antique Majolica plates characterized by their unique, vibrant shades of

  green and blue set in an octagonal mural on the wall, and the Sicilian

  Moorish head sculpture, an exotic centrepiece above the large marble

  fireplace. She would miss all of that. But she would not miss what this

  beauty had come to represent. Manipulation. Prostitution. Had she really

  been bought by Patrina? Had Patrina ever really loved her?

  The light evening breeze from the half-open window carried in the

  faintest pine aroma from the garden below, and she breathed it in, hoping it

  would lessen her stress. She tilted her head from side to side and ran her

  fingers through her hair and down the back of her neck, but the tension

  wouldn’t subside. She released a short breath through her nose and turned

  again to face Patrina as she leaned back on her elbows, her chest rising and

  falling in a steady, erotic rhythm. Patrina’s soft breasts, erect nipples, and

  dark, hungry eyes held the beauty of a fruit ripe for the picking.

  She swallowed and her tongue tingled, piqued by memories of

  Patrina’s soft skin against her lips, salty sweet, sensing the texture of her

  arousal when it came, as it always did. Maria tried to find that past pleasure

  in the present moment, but it alluded her. Patrina’s eyes weren’t bright,

  although she smiled as if they should be. And they had sparkled in the

  beginning. They had been the stars existing in a time and space millions of

  years before now. And Maria had felt the intensity of that look across many

  a crowded room in a thrill that ignited her core, consumed her in a fierce

  flood of electric energy, and turned her inside out, stealing her from herself.

  Maria had given herself completely, willingly…in the beginning.

  She had been captivated by Patrina back then, seduced and rendered

  speechless in the secret moments of affection they had enjoyed together,

  away from Patrina’s husband, Don Stefano Amato. Maria was sure that she

  and Patrina had shared something special. It would be untrue and

  unnecessarily cruel to deny that fact. Maria had known intimacy without

  words, without the overt expressions of love that lovers often use to

  demonstrate their commitment, promising their souls in return for a lifetime

  together. So what? She didn’t need that. That had never really been the deal,

  nor would it ever be.

  Maria ran her tongue over her lips as she appraised Patrina’s shapely

  hips and soft thighs awaiting her attention. She reflected on the wetness she

  would find between the silky folds, the treasures that would be revealed at

  the height of Patrina’s orgasm.

  She refilled her glass and drank from it in an attempt to still her

  quivering lips that betrayed her arousal. She swilled the liqueur, her

  attention on the dark amber liquid as it settled in wave-like translucent form

  on the inside of the glass. Bringing the glass to her lips, she paused and

  inhaled before her focus narrowed to her ever-so-slightly trembling fingers

  around the glass. She moved with urgency and swallowed in haste, clinging

  to the glass for refuge. Her throat burned as the fiery drink coursed inside

  her. A shudder passed through her seconds later, making her heart race.

  There was a time when she would have wanted to be sober making love, but

  not now, not here, and not with Patrina.

  Maria blinked as the burning sensation reduced her to numbness,

  and she meticulously p
laced the glass on the edge of the table. Had she ever

  actually loved Patrina? She thought she had, in the beginning. She looked at

  Patrina and forced herself to smile. Patrina’s eyelids fluttered as she smiled

  alluringly. The attempt at seduction felt feeble and didn’t affect Maria. It

  didn’t resonate as it once had. Maybe it was the years that had passed or the

  impact of their mafia life. Maybe it was simply that they had become

  complacent with their relationship and grown apart. She had seen the end

  coming a long time ago, if she were honest. But there was a strong bond

  and secrets they shared that had stopped her doing back then what she must

  do now. It would always be complicated. She closed her eyes and made a

  promise to herself that she intended to keep. This would be their last time.

  “Come to bed, Maria. I need you.”

  The resonance of Patrina’s voice slipped through Maria’s defences.

  Maria blinked, trembling, then squeezed her eyes closed again. She reached

  for the image of a time past, a time when the desire to arouse Patrina came

  easily. She recalled the soft warmth of Patrina’s sex against her fingertips,

  brought to mind the essence they had once shared. Keeping the image in

  mind, Maria slowly undid the buttons of her shirt and removed it. She

  folded it with precision and placed it on the table.

  Patrina mumbled in appreciation. Maria closed her eyes, inhibiting

  the verbal response she didn’t want to encourage Patrina with. She shook

  her head, lifted her chin, and ran her fingers lightly through her hair, briefly

  massaging her temples. She unhooked her bra, folded one cup into the

  other, and placed it on top of her shirt. The days of her ripping the clothes

  off Patrina and herself, flaming desire nullifying her own need for order and

  precision, had long since passed. Maybe she should have ended the

  relationship sooner. Maybe she should never have got involved in the first

  place. God knew, they had been treading a very fine line. And she had

  prayed every day that Don Stefano never discovered the truth.

  With a look that appeared absent of affection, Patrina raised her

  eyebrows. “You are a tease, tonight. Need encouragement?”

  Maria watched as Patrina leaned her head back, parted her knees

  and unveiled her beauty, and slipped her finger into the glistening, silky

  juices. With calm consideration juxtaposed against her racing pulse, Maria

  removed her jeans, folded them carefully, and placed them on the table next

  to the shirt. She positioned her shoes under the table, turned towards the

  bed, and inhaled deeply. She closed her eyes momentarily to help the

  sensual image to linger and Patrina’s distinctive scent to come to her. Her

  skin prickled in anticipation. She opened her eyes and wetted her lips,

  reminded of Patrina’s taste. Maria approached the bed, shifting her attention

  from Patrina’s breasts heaving with her gasping breaths to the glistening

  wet centre between her legs. Patrina rocked and bucked her hips, bringing

  herself to just short of orgasm.

  Maria knew that deft touch well. She moved to the bed and placed

  her hand over Patrina’s fingers, interlinking with them, revelling in her

  warmth and wetness. Desire surged through her every synapse, building

  urgency in her own sex, and sweeping away her doubts, pushing away her

  promise. She eased inside Patrina’s silky softness and bit her own lip to

  restrain the inevitable groan of unadulterated pleasure. Maria took Patrina’s

  nipple into her mouth, teased and toyed it, and Patrina’s sex soaked the

  palm of her hand. Patrina groaned her pleasure into Maria’s ear as she

  moved with artful precision, slowly and teasingly at first.

  Patrina clasped Maria’s head to her breast, then tried to pull her up

  to face her. “Kiss me, bedda,” she gasped.

  No! Maria shook off Patrina’s hands and eased lower. Savouring the

  soft flesh at her lips, Maria moved down the length of Patrina’s body. She

  nuzzled into Patrina’s damp curly hair, lowered her mouth over Patrina’s

  swollen clit, and wrapped her arm around Patrina’s leg. Maria enveloped

  Patrina’s silky flesh in her mouth, and her tongue enticed and danced across

  her sensitive clit. Maria moaned at the wet heat at her fingertips as she

  entered Patrina. Patrina threw her head back and groaned in pleasure. Then

  her hips slowed, and her body became an exquisite sculpture.

  Maria thrust deeper, sucked harder and faster, her body aching with

  desire that would never be satiated here. She sensed the moment, the rise,

  Patrina suspended before the fall. Maria held her there, as she always did,

  her buried fingers softly caressing, the tip of her tongue eliciting tiny shocks

  with every delicate touch. And then the moment passed, and the trembling

  eased.

  Patrina sighed heavily and laughed, then she reached down to Maria

  to pull her upward. “Kiss me, bedda.”

  Maria moved up the bed and looked at Patrina, as she had done

  hundreds of times before. Only this time she stopped with her head at

  Patrina’s breasts, keeping her distance from the kiss that would be too

  intimate and wrong. The sheen of moisture highlighted Patrina’s flushed

  cheeks, her pulse pounded visibly in her neck, and the fine lines shaped her

  face beautifully. Her tapering eyes begged to stay closed, immersed in the

  pleasure that flowed through her. None of it touched Maria the way it used

  to. There was no urge to cherish Patrina, to trace a fingertip lightly along

  her cheeks and jaw, or place soft kisses down the line of her neck and nestle

  against her chest. That feeling remained a distant memory that would fade

  with time.

  Patrina opened her eyes, gazed hazily at Maria, and smiled. She

  cupped Maria’s cheek, and traced her thumb along the line of Maria’s lips.

  Patrina rose from the bed and came towards her.

  Maria froze. Gripped by a sense of darkness, her gut twisted and

  roiled against what Patrina might want that she wouldn’t give her. Maria

  pulled back. “I have to go.”

  Patrina stared at her, lips pursed, the hint of a frown narrowing her

  eyes. “Why the rush, bedda?”

  Maria slid from the bed, strode to the table, and started to dress. Bile

  rose in her throat, and she swallowed it down. She closed her eyes as she

  buttoned her shirt, irritated by the tremor in her hands that slowed down her

  progress. Tightness spread across her body, reaching her shoulders and

  chest, and she inhaled deeply to draw it away. She opened her eyes, turned

  towards the bed, and stared through the pain of truth. Her heart pounded

  with the certainty that what she was about to say would only incite Patrina’s

  worst traits.

  Maria straightened her back, cleared her throat, and looked at

  Patrina with unwavering commitment. “I can’t do this anymore.”

  Patrina laughed. She shifted up the bed and leaned casually against

  the headboard.

  Maria had come to despise that wry smile, the way Patrina

  arrogantly cocked her head in an obvious look of utter contempt. Power.

  History. Control. That was in the past now. Strange, that the woman
she had

  once cared for, maybe loved more than any other, could derive pleasure

  from inflicting pain. She clenched her teeth and swallowed the fire that

  would propel her to fight back. Patrina had a knack of conveying emotional

  blackmail effortlessly through her natural demeanour. How long had it been

  this way? “I’m serious, Patrina. This.” She pointed between them. “Us. It’s

  over.”

  Patrina tilted her head and considered Maria, is if looking down her

  nose at something of disgust that she needed to wipe from her shoe.

  “You think it is this easy, ma bedda?”

  Maria looked away, rolled her tongue over her teeth, and swallowed

  past the constriction in her throat. She turned towards the door and started

  to walk. As she turned the handle and opened the door, she took one last

  inhalation of Patrina’s unique combination of scents. She looked over her

  shoulder and saw the tightness behind Patrina’s smile and her eyes that

  looked at Maria without truly seeing. She met Patrina’s gaze and matched

  her in combative intensity. “That was the last time, Patrina.”

  Patrina stiffened her jaw, and her lips all but disappeared. She

  released a dismissive huff, threw her head back on the pillow, and placed

  her hand between her legs.

  Maria was unable to stop herself from watching as Patrina drew her

  fingers in circles around her clit.

  “What is the saying, Maria? About keeping your enemies close?

  You don’t want to make too many enemies so early in your leadership. Men

  are so...” She moaned and bit down on her lip.

  Maria rolled her neck and looked away. It was so like Patrina, using

  seduction to leverage control. But she was done with that tactic.

  “They all think they can be the boss. They get impatient, you know.”

  Patrina moaned in pleasure, started to shudder under her own touch, and

  then her fingers stilled.

  Maria clamped her jaw tightly and shook her head almost

  imperceptibly. She stepped into the hallway and closed the door softly. She

  leaned against the chamfered wood and sighed. The bright yellow walls and

  aroma of freshly laid carpet intensified the nausea clawing at her throat, and

  she swallowed back the urge to scream.

  She pushed away from the door and strode towards the lift. She