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"Just be careful what you wish for."
I should've been because now, watching him drive with one hand on the steering wheel, I'm clenching my thighs together and trying not to stare at him so hard. Unfortunately, that's not the case.
He turns his head as he pulls into a gated piece of land. As he approaches the gate, he rolls the window down, puts his hand outside and rests his hand on a flat surface. Immediately, the gates open and my jaw falls open.
It's a beautiful plot of land, spanning acres and acres. People are scattered around the place, trimming bushes, watering plants, tending to a fountain on the front lawn and different statues that look like they were made in the Renaissance.
"This is beautiful." I say, trying not to look at Nico as he rests a hand on my upper thigh, his fingers extending to my inner thigh, "Nico, I was serious when I said two days."
He pulls his hand away and sticks his middle finger in his mouth, "I believe you."
I remain quiet for the rest of the drive in, my heart pounding against my chest and unfortunately, it's not the only thing pounding.
The house is almost a mile past the gate but when we arrive, I'm taken back in awe. It's more like a mansion, but then again — this is a Mafia Family. They're powerful, rich, and very good-looking. Of course they have a mansion.
When he exits the car, I don't even wait for him to reach my door before stepping out. If he wants to act like a slut, I'll gladly avoid him. My insides hurt — I need time to recover.
Immediately after leaving the car, people that seemingly came from nowhere take our bags from the trunk, sending greetings to Domenico who returns them.
He sends me a look and steps up to me, resting a hand on my waist, "You look tired."
I roll my eyes, "Nuh-uh. I'm not playing these games." He smirks and I can almost hear him ask the question. "You know exactly what games I'm talking about."
His hand flies to my ass and before he can squeeze my cheeks, a soft voice calls from the top of the steps leading up to the house.
"Domenico, dai un po' di spazio alla donna. Sembra traumatizzata! (Domenico, give the woman some space. She looks traumatized!)" Her Italian is thick and soothing and quick on her tongue.
I turn to see a beautiful woman, her greying hair flowing down her back and ending right above her butt. She's dressed in Versace, her red bottoms blinding me with the sunlight that reflects off the diamonds lining her heels. Her cheeks are rosy, head held high, and smile bright on her face.
