Mafia's Obsession [18+]

8.

Sofia

We eat in his luxury dining room. The one that you know instantly is rarely used. The room is too massive for both of us. The table consists of twelve chairs and two chandeliers hang beautifully from the ceiling.

He has a professional cook in the mansion and the food obviously tastes great. So, this seems like a fancy dinner at the best restaurant in the city.

His phone rings the whole time, but he doesn't even bother to glance at it. The sound fills the silence until it eventually dies down. But not even a minute after the caller gives up, my phone lights up. Marco's calling.

"Yeah?" he looks up as I answer the call. He knows, I guess.

"Is he with you? He's not answering." Marco states with a sheer of urgency.

I hold out my phone to him. He takes a lungful air to calm his irritation before finally take it.

"What?" he snaps. And I almost jump at his harsh tone. He is listening for a while then glance at me. "I'll call you in a second." With that, he disconnects, handing my phone back. "Got a work to do." He informs me, getting up and grabbing his jacket suit from his chair. His hand tilts my chin upwards to steal a kiss on my nose.

✖️

Fifteen minutes later, he's still not coming back, so I go upstairs with a good mood. Breathing the clear air for all the heavy atmosphere he carries. The man is sucking a soul.

The hallway of his floor is empty. Franco is probably out there doing a real job he's paid for. Not guarding a door.

This morning Ezio has given me the passcode to access his bedroom. So I don't need the card key. I press the six numbers and the door is unlocked with loud click.

He most likely won't come home until early morning. And the clock on the wall showing it's only eight pm. Finally, I have time to fucking relax.

I go to the bathroom, removing my make up and washing my face. I take off my dress and heels, rubbing the soreness on my feet. I click play on my personal playlist on Spotify. It puts me in the mood and suddenly I need a liquor. I rummage through his bar cabinet in the corner. I am not surprised that he has a quite premium collection. Some are even in limited unique bottles. After brief contemplation, I opt for a bottle of cognac.

I want to drink till I pass out. It's been a long time.

I take a big gulp and walk over the marble bathroom vanity. Those boring hollowed eyes in that giant mirror are staring back at me. I unclasp my earings and undo my hair. Slow beatdrop song echoes in the bathroom. Dark and heavy. I sway to the music and drink. Close my eyes and drink. Voices in my head get loud and I keep drinking. Damn it. This is not me relaxing. This is me overwhelmed and empty.

Some footsteps are vaguely heard in the background. I think I'm imagining it until an arm circle around my waist. My eyes abruptly open to find the devil himself. I'm pressed to his body. Those piercing eyes are watching me through the mirror. Wicked and intimidating. They make my skin prickle. In a good way.

"What are you doing?" he asks huskily. His gaze darkens at my state as mine glazing over. I don't even give a damn that I'm standing half naked in front of him. I love how his gaze lingers on every detail through the reflection in the mirror.

I bring the bottle to his lips which he drinks. "Relaxing." I reply. He hums, taking the bottle from my hand and place it on the countertop. "You're not supposed to come back until three." I mumble.

"You okay?" he whispers, his knuckles running over my side and across my navel, dangerously close to the line of my thong.

"Why not?" I half-snap. That simple question makes me nervous. It means more to me than necessary.