The Mafia's One Desire

chapter 39: warmth

Sofia Milan Chavicci

"You two most definitely just had sex in here."

Alessandro grunts, wrapping an arm around my waist.

"Tame your beast, woman."

"He's gonna kill you either way, Ettore."

A kiss is placed on top of my head before he leans down to my ear.

"Di 'solo una parola, amore. Posso sbarazzarmi di lui."
[Just say the word, love. I can get rid of him.]

"Penso che starò bene, ragazzone."
[I think I'll be alright, big guy.]

"Are you two done whispering about me? Because I would enjoy not having to witness your disgusting flirting. I just want food."

I break away from my husband's grip on my waist and walk towards Ettore. Linking my arm through his, I pull him out of the office to go into the kitchen. I hope we can order Chinese takeout. For some reason, I'm craving greasy foods and donuts.

"Just wait until you find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with. I bet you two will flirt all the time."

"I would rather die."

"Than what?"

"Be dependent on someone else."

"Love isn't about being dependent on someone. It's about accepting someone with all of their flaws, embracing them for who they are. For caring about them, for appreciating everything they do, and for making each other better people. I love Alessandro, but if I had to, I could live my life without him. It might be a lonely life, but I could do it."

"You're still dependent on him though. You need him for things."

"I'm not going to argue with you on that one because you're right, but someone might come and change your point of view."

"Hell no. I rather just eat pizza alone for the rest of my life."

I snort, nudging him with my elbow. I hear Alessandro grumbling behind us and how close we are, but I don't pay attention to a word he's saying. He might be a possessive asshole, and I might like it sometimes, but he also needs to learn to control his jealousy. He slides past me, brushing his hand against my bare thigh. 

All of a sudden, I'm reminded that I don't have any panties on. My tongue darts out to run along my bottom lip involuntarily. I watch his muscles flex under his black dress shirt that seems to hug him perfectly. My eyes run down his arms, over his shaped biceps, and down to his ass. I have to fight the urge not to slap it while he reaches up into his liquor cabinet to probably get some whiskey.

"What do you want to eat, babe?"

My husband turns around sharply, almost dropping the glass onto the floor.

"Come cazzo l'hai appena chiamata?"
[What the fuck did you just call her?]

Ettore's hands go up into a surrender position which effectively let me go. He backs away carefully as if not to upset the beast anymore. Like he's not wanting to be killed by a wild animal. I put my hand on my husband's chest to calm him, but it's already too late. He gently places me to the side of him, gesturing towards his drink to say I can have some if I wish. With a tilt of his head, the two men exit the room. Oh well. Hopefully, they don't kill one another. 

I should probably call my parents and maybe even Evelina. I don't if my husband has even notified them about problems with the Russians. His house was blown up, and they probably know about that. But, if he was going to tell anyone it would be Brando, and they aren't exactly talking at the moment. I can't believe he's still mad about what his father did. It's too late and Victor's dead now. We have bigger problems.