by Anna Ray
His eyes darken for a moment, and I reach across to take his hand. “If you’d become an astronaut, we likely never would have met.”
Massimo’s eyes soften, and his smile returns. “Every cloud has a silver lining.”
After dinner, we’re given more Spritz cocktails and take them out onto the deck as the sun is setting over Lake Geneva. I slip my hand into his and stare at the beautiful view ahead of me.
“Thank you for the most amazing date,” I say, standing on my tiptoes to press my lips to his.
Massimo kisses me back passionately, and when he pulls away, he has a hungry look in his eyes. “The date isn’t over yet. I’ve booked us into a bed and breakfast for the night,” he whispers huskily, causing a shiver of anticipation to run down my spine.
As beautiful as Lake Geneva is, with Massimo’s mention of spending a night in a bed and breakfast echoing in my mind, I can hardly wait to get back in the Ferrari.
The drive from the lake to the bed and breakfast isn’t far, and as we approach, my excitement grows. I don’t know what to expect, but when the building with teal siding, red wooden accents, and a pink cherry blossom tree in front comes into view, I let out a gasp.
“This place is beautiful.”
Massimo glances across at me and grins. “I found it when I was searching for hotels online and thought it was a little more special than staying in a regular hotel.”
I can hardly contain myself when we pull into the driveway and have to be patient as we’re checked in and the owners, Patricia and Rick, give us the history of The Murphy House.
“It was built over a period of time from 1895-1902. It’s architecture is a mixture of Victorian Gothic Revival and Queen Anne Hybrid. Dr. J.J. Murphy was the original owner and was a physician in Pontiac. He held title to the property until 1944 and practiced medicine in the parlor,” Rick explains.
“Our dining room, living room, and parlor includes period furniture,” Patricia adds. “Breakfast is served in the dining room at nine a.m. You’ll be staying in the master suite.”
Rick hands the keys to Massimo and asks, “Do you need me to show you up to your room?”
“No thanks. We’ve got it from here,” Massimo says, then takes my hand.
We make our way up the grand, dark wood staircase that’s carpeted in a floral pattern to the third floor of the historical house.
“Wait there,” Massimo instructs as we get to the door.
“More surprises?” I ask, amazed at the effort he’s put into the date.
“Just one more,” he says, slipping into the room so quickly I don’t even catch a glimpse inside.
“Who knew Massimo Accardi was a secret romantic?” I tease, my eyes drinking in all the details.
He must have called ahead and made arrangements with Patricia and Rick because the room is illuminated by hundreds of candles, and there are rose petals scattered on the floor. On the nightstand by the bed is a silver tray holding a bottle of Champagne in a cooler and a plate of chocolate covered strawberries.
“Alessandra, it’s time you learn, I’m full of surprises,” Massimo says, crossing the room and taking my hands. He stares deeply into my eyes and adds, “I only have one condition; from this moment onwards, you do everything I say.”
My pulse quickens and my knees feel weak. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Massimo smirks. “Okay. Stand perfectly still.”
I do as instructed while Massimo retries a couple of items from his overnight bag, including a pair of leather handcuffs and a blindfold. He positions my hands behind my back and fastens them securely. Next, he covers my eyes with a blindfold.
I’m at his mercy as he slowly, but gently, unzips my dress and peels the material down my body. Hoping our date would end like this, I’ve purchased new lingerie, which I wear now, and as Massimo undresses me, the red silk and lace is revealed to him.
“Fuck. You’re exquisite,” he says, cupping my breasts and giving them a firm squeeze.
Massimo picks me up and carries me to the bed. I hear him bring over the Champagne and strawberries, and he pops one of the chocolate covered fruits in my mouth.
While I’m distracted with the sweet treat, he parts my legs and lies down between them. I gasp and giggle when I feel cool Champagne hit my pussy, but he doesn’t give me a moment to comment as he nestles himself between my legs.
He grabs my legs, pulling them tight around his head as his tongue swirls around my clit. He swipes up and down, occasionally dipping into my opening and changing the pressure and speed of his mouth on me. He keeps me guessing as to what he’ll do next, sometimes sucking, sometimes licking, until my back arches up off the bed, my legs shaking.
“Please, Massimo,” I moan.
To my utter frustration, he stops and sits up. “Please, what?”
“Goddamn it,” I curse. “You know what I want.”
“Do I?” He teases, moving away from me. He pops another strawberry in my mouth, and I feel something cold and luxurious touch my nipple. I suspect it’s chocolate from the strawberries, and he confirms my suspicion when he trails his tongue across my breasts.
I squirms beneath him as his mouth moves up my body, nipping at the pulse point on my neck before moving to my lips. Our mouths meet, and the taste of chocolate covered strawberries mingles as his tongue lashes against mine.
As we kiss, Massimo guides his cock to my opening and plunges it deep inside me.
“Oh fuck,” I cry out, and he begins moving inside me.
My legs instinctively hook over his hips in a position we both love, and Massimo pounds harder. One of his hands squeezes my breast as the other strokes my clit.
I bring my arms, still cuffed together, down and loop them around his neck to pull us closer together.
“Look at me,” he commands, removing the blindfold. I meet his gaze, our eyes locking as he continues to move inside me. “I love you.”
Feeling my peak coming; my inner walls clench around Massimo’s cock, and he pounds harder.
His hands reach up to cup my face, and I feel him explode inside me.
“I love you, too,” I reply, finding my own release as the waves of orgasm crash over me.
Massimo collapses on top of me as we catch our breath, our limbs tangled.
“Will you let me wash your hair?” he asks as our post-coital highs fade.
“Only if I can wash yours,” I reply. It’s become our thing now, that we wash the other after sex, an act of service and intimacy that strengthens our connection.
Epilogue: Massimo
Six Months Later…
The sun is shining, I’m surrounded by family and friends, old and new, and for the first time in ten years, I’m utterly at peace.
From my spot on the sun lounger, I glance over at Alessandra, who is in her element, playing hostess for our gathered guests.
We’ve been dating “officially” for six months, including spending Christmas and New Year’s Eve together. Today, we gathered with friends and family at my penthouse apartment to celebrate Alessandra and Taylor graduating from college and earning their degrees.
Now Alessandra has graduated, she’s taking a position at one of the city’s top public relations companies. I did say that I’d be more than happy for her to join the business, but she wants to forge her own path and also said she doesn’t want to put too much strain on our relationship by working together, too. I fully support her decision. While I'd love to go into business with Alessandra, I know she’s going to do great things in the PR world.
While she was studying, I spent the six months working hard to make my new business a success. Wanting a fresh start, I rented a new office building downtown, and from there, I oversee all aspects of the new venture capital financing business. In a typical week, I meet with anywhere up to ten clients, all looking for startups for their business. It’s then down to me and my team to decide which startups to invest in. So far, we’ve invested in four businesses in Chicago, includin
g a new restaurant chain, a used car salesman, and an up and coming artist. Each investment has proved sound, and I’ve already started seeing returns on my money.
Taylor sits poolside chatting to Vera and Teresa. She, too, has recently graduated with a business and economics degree and is soon to start a position at the restaurant chain I invested in. Beside me on a second sun lounger is Donte, who is still working with Stefano Giuliani. I haven’t asked much about how business is going in the criminal world, I don’t want to know, but Donte assures me all is good and they’re earning lots of money. I’m happy for my friend; he’s much more suited to the mob life than I was.
Stefano Giuliani and I have forged a polite, mutual respect. I wouldn’t call him a friend, and I don’t see us going out for a beer or anything like that anytime soon, but he’s accepted me and Alessandra are together and doesn’t shoot daggers at me whenever he sees me.
Alessandra grabs three bottles of beer from the cooler and breezes past her friend Renee (the up and coming artist I invested in), to join Donte and I on another sun lounger. With a smile, she hands my friend and I a bottle of beer, then opens her own.
I can’t tear my eyes off her as she sits in her skimpy, black bikini. It leaves very little to the imagination, and I can’t wait to get her alone later. Though my carnal needs come second to the surprise I have hidden in the bedroom.
“Hey, Donte, how’s it going?” Alessandra asks, leaning back on her lounger and taking a sip of her beer.
“I’m good, thanks,” he replies, his gaze drifting across to the pool where Taylor is now chatting with Renee.
“Don’t even think about it,” Alessandra warns, and Donte chuckles. Taylor has made it more than clear she’s interested in Donte, but Alessandra has warned her father’s right hand man away from her best friend.
Donte holds up his hands in a placating gesture and says, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
The smirk on his face tells a different story, though, and I wonder what exactly Donte has been up to when he thinks the Giulianis aren’t watching.
As if summoned by the mere thought of his name, Stefano Giuliani appears, and seeing me and Donte sitting with Alessandra, decides to join us.
“There’s my girl with a GPA of four,” he says, once again boasting about his daughter.
“Daddy, stop, you’re making me blush.”
“You should be proud. I know how hard you worked to get that grade,” I say. If there’s one thing Stefano Giuliani and I do agree on, it’s how amazing his daughter is.
I lean across and give Alessandra a chaste kiss on the check, and when I turn back to Giuliani, I’m surprised he isn’t scowling at me.
Instead, he asks, “How’s business Massimo? I heard you recently invested in the restaurant across the street so they can open more buildings in the city.”
“That’s right,” I reply, referring to my favorite place to eat, a modern steakhouse and chic lounge which serves the best dry-aged porterhouse I’ve ever had. The owner, Scott Ransom, previously owed $10,000 to DeLuca, which I convinced Teresa to write off given she hasn’t taken up her late husband's mob mantle. Then, when Scott was debt free, he approached me about a loan to expand the business and open a second location in the Gold Coast, not far from the Oak Street Beach. Knowing how good the restaurant was, I was already half onboard before Scott even showed me his business plan, but after reading through it, my team and I agreed we were on to a winner. “The official opening is about a month from now.”
“You did well there; I’m jealous,” Giuliani says, complimenting me for the first time.
The party continues all afternoon and well into the evening. I’ve hired a catering company to barbeque for everyone, and food and alcohol flow freely. But, as much as I’m enjoying spending a glorious afternoon with friends and family, I’m desperate to get Alessandra alone.
There’s something I need to ask her, and after giving it much consideration, I’ve decided it’s best asked alone, just the two of us. That’s why I’m relieved when at almost midnight, the guests start leaving and begin calling cabs to take them back to their homes.
In the entranceway, Alessandra and Taylor stand, their arms wrapped around each other.
Taylor glances up, her gaze meeting mine. I’ve already spoken to her privately about my plans to make sure she’s okay with them, if Alessandra agrees. “You look after her, yeah? Don’t make me come kick your ass!”
I laugh at the absurd mental image of Taylor, who is barely five foot and probably weighs half of what I do, kicking my ass, but then I turn serious. I gaze at her steadily, and say, “You have my word.”
Taylor gives me a nod of approval and releases Alessandra from her embrace.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she says, making her way down the property’s driveway to the car waiting for her just beyond the gate.
When Taylor gets into the car, that leaves just me and Alessandra, though we’re soon joined by Teresa and Vera who’ve insisted on helping clean up, even though I have staff to do that. Stefano waits patiently for his wife, and it pleases me to see he has no issue with Teresa and Vera’s friendship.
Since Alessandra and I started dating, Teresa and Vera became close friends, and the relationship between Vera and I has improved greatly. I’ve shown her I’m serious about making a good life for Alessandra and me, and that I’m treating her daughter well.
“All the leftovers are in the fridge,” Teresa says, embracing Alessandra and me.
“And I’ve cleaned out the barbeque,” Vera adds, hugging her daughter and me.
“You shouldn’t have, but thank you.”
“Nonsense,” Vera insists, squeezing my cheek fondly.
“Good night, sweetheart,” Stefano says, embracing his daughter.
“Good night, Daddy,” Alessandra replies, kissing him on both cheeks.
Then Stefano turns to me and extends his arms. We embrace briefly, and the hug is more than a little awkward, but it’s an advancement on the usual tense handshakes we share.
“Good night, Massimo,” he says, using my first name for a rare occasion.
Alessandra slips her hand into mine as we watch her parents and my godmother depart. When their car pulls away, Alessandra turns to me with a grin.
“Today was fun.”
“It was,” I agree, as I lock up and we head upstairs to the bedroom.
A cool breeze drifts in, and the balcony is open to the patio below, offering a beautiful view of the full moon overhead reflecting off the pool.
Alessandra sits at her vanity table to remove her makeup, and while she does, I think about how the past six months have been the happiest of my life. When she steps into the ensuite to shower, I head outside to sit on the balcony bench, enjoying the evening while I wait for her.
My pulse speeds up as I think about what I’m about to ask Alessandra, knowing that if she agrees, we’ll be taking another step in our relationship. We’ve been taking it slowly since the death of DeLuca, but now I’m ready for something more committed and hope she is, too...
A short time later, she steps out onto the balcony wearing nothing but a sheer night slip and a silk robe.
“I wondered where you went,” she says, sitting down next to me and pulling her feet up onto the padded cushion to tuck under herself.
I move in closer and wrap my arm around her shoulder, my fingers idly playing with her long, damp hair.
“Alessandra,” I begin, all the words of my carefully rehearsed speech suddenly leaving my mind. “You know you make me happier than anything in the world, don’t you?”
She turns to me, her eyes shining in the moonlight, and smiles. “I know, and you make me happier than anything in the world, too, Massimo.”
“I’m glad, because every morning that I wake up without you in my arms in torture,” I say, gently moving back. “I know we said we’re going to take things slow, and I’m trying, I really am. But damn it, whenever you’re not here, I feel like I’m going out
of my mind. So, I wondered, will you move in with me?”
“I’d love to,” she says, cupping my cheeks and bringing her lips down on mine in a slow, sweet kiss that’s full of promise for the future.
-The End-
Author’s Note
I appreciate you reading my book and would like to ask a quick favor.
Would you please take a minute to leave a review on Amazon?
This will help me reach more people with my book.
As an author, reading reviews will really help me improve and hone my craft, and I don’t want to miss what you have to say.
Anna Ray
Read on for the first chapters of the next book in the Mafia Sinners series...
Collided
A Dark Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance
Anna Ray
1
Chiara Fiore
My heels clipped along the hallway, the hardwood floors making a familiar tapping sound as I stepped.
At one time, we would never have to discuss business at home.
But times were different now.
Just like the family mansion was different. We were the product of grief, and the house was a product of us. A polished exterior that screamed wealth and privilege, with tiny cracks showing the true nature.
We were falling apart at the seams. Just like our house.
My father had to let go of most of the staff. We still had a maid and a groundskeeper. We had to keep up our exterior appearances, for everyone’s sake. Even though the maintenance man was long gone, and the interior of the mansion was cracking along the edges.
Just out of vision of the general public.
Just like our family.
And, as I straightened my long brown hair in the hallway mirror, I couldn't help but notice a stain on the ceiling above me.
