The Mafia's One Desire

chapter 37: innocent

Sofia Milan Chavicci

I wake up about two hours later with Alessandro, not beside me. I hit my hand on his side of the bed just in case he is there, but I don't hear or feel anything. I yell his name, hoping to get a reply, but I get nothing. Where the fuck could he have gone? I close my eyes while throwing the comforter over my head. In the bathroom, I hear the shower running, and I slap myself on the head. 

Maybe he did fuck my brains out. 

I bite my bottom lip as I gather up enough confidence to throw off the covers and walk into the shower with him fully naked. I know he has seen me multiple times naked and tells me I'm beautiful all the time, but it still makes me a little anxious. He's gorgeous, sexy, and handsome, and practically sculpted out of stone. 

I love my curves, the thickness of my thighs, and the slight pudginess on my stomach. But as I think about how much I love my body the way it is, standing next to the most perfectly muscular man of all time can be a bit intimidating.

"Sofia!"

I roll my eyes as I hear him yell for me from the bathroom. If he asks me for toilet paper -- which I don't know why he would since he's in the shower -- I'm going to scream. I get out of the bed, huffing with frustration at the cold floors. I open the bathroom door to see him washing his hair. He smiles brightly at me, completely confident standing there under the hot streams of water. 

He beacons me over to him while opening the shower door for me to get in. Well, he most definitely wants me to join him. He presses a kiss against my lips before spinning me, so I stand in the hot spray of water. He grips my ass for a second and then uses some of his own body wash to clean me.

"What are you doing?"

"Finding an excuse to touch you."

I snort, kissing him again.

"Fammi rifare questo. Buon pomeriggio, amore. Come ti senti bellissima?"
[Let me redo this. Good afternoon, love. How are you feeling, beautiful?]

"Buon pomeriggio, Sandro. Mi sento bene ma un po 'stanco."
[Good afternoon, Sandro. I'm feeling good but a little tired.]

"Puoi stare a letto tutto il giorno, se lo desideri. Sappiamo entrambi cosa devo fare"
[You can stay all day in bed if you wish. We both know what I have to do.]

"Posso partecipare alla conversazione?"
[Can I sit in on the conversation?]

"Puoi farlo se vuoi, non mi dispiace, ma prima ti portiamo qualcosa da mangiare."
[You can if you want, I don't mind, but let's get you something to eat first.]

"Grazie."
[Thank you.]

Alessandro and I finish showering together, which takes a shorter amount of time than I thought it would. I have only just finished pulling on my clothes when Luca walks into the bedroom. My husband gives him a look, glancing back at me. When I nod my head, my man takes that as his cue to leave the two of us alone. 

He trusts me with whatever is going on between Luca and me, and he knows that I'm going to tell him when the time is right. He trusts me just as much as I trust him. Since the perpetrator wants to tell his side of the story, I allow him to choose where he would like to explain himself. 

About twenty minutes later, I'm sipping on a glass of champagne while eating a fruit salad on the balcony of his childhood home. For some reason, I'm oddly comfortable with the man. Not because he wants to kill my husband but because he doesn't want to kill me (that I know of). Whether or not that's selfish I don't know, but I'm not going to die today. My husband can protect himself.