The Don and the Wife

(12) forgiveness ♡

Chapter 12
forgiveness ♡
Songs In Chapter
Cavallaro's anger is still very much ablaze and despite the few hours we spent together working in his office three days ago, he is still giving me the cold shoulder.
With Cava, I have come to recognise a few things like the fact that he comes across as cold and unfeeling but if you know him well enough and focus on him hard enough, there are flickers of thoughts and emotions which pass across his face. They are microscopic but they are there and since I went into the city with Dante, they had been nonexistent — I hate it.
Luckily, I can distract myself from all things relating to my husband because Violet is coming to visit for a few days and she is bringing our other friend Luka with her.
Whilst Violet, Caterina and I lived in Sorrento, we met Lukas Volkov, an associate of the familia. He is the Bookkeeper for the Volkov Bratva which is run by his older brothers and so he spends a lot of time in Sorrento ensuring Russian interests are maintained, he is essentially the thread that holds the alliance between the Donatelli's and Volkov's together. He is also one of my closest friends.
Suddenly I am scooped up into arms littered with roses, skulls and Russian scripture and I barely conceal the squeal of joy that wants to escape me, "Luka!"
A deep chuckle tickles my ear as he hugs me close from behind before releasing me so I can turn and set my sights on the blonde giant.
The gold framed glasses that I picked out for him sit perched on his nose, somehow not looking out of place against his dark tattoos and tanned skin. Twinkling blue eyes and blonde hair also stand starkly against the darkness and it reminds of how Luka has always been an odd combination of angel and devil.
"I have missed you, suka," his Russian accent is barely noticeable anymore, almost non-existent in comparison to his brothers who all have a thick Russian rumble.
Grinning up at him, I pinch his cheek, "You should have come to the wedding then."
He frowns and I notice Violet cringing next to me making me realise that I should probably keep my mouth shut about my new marriage in his presence.
Shaking it off, I turn to Vi just as she tackles me in a very constricting hug, "Jesus Christ, Violet, it's only been a few weeks."
Her voice is muffled by my ponytail which gets caught between her face and my shoulder, "A few weeks too long."
Pulling away I notice the cheeky grin on her face and the solemn expression on Luka's, "What's going on?" I question.
Violet's pale blonde eyebrows wiggle and I inwardly cringe at her excitement; what the hell did she have planned?
—————
"No," I try to say as firmly as possible, "Absolutely not, Violet, that is a terrible idea."
Pale green eyes roll but she ignores me and continues to flick through mine and Cavallaro's closet, "That is what Luka said," she grips something she likes and pulls it out before meeting my stare head on. "Don't tell me you've become a huge bore like that wanker."
I mock glare at her, "He's not a wanker, Violet, he's actually one of the few good guys in this kind of world."
Her slim hand waves dismissively and I grit my teeth as I realise that she is probably going to get her own way tonight. She spins on her heel doing a quick assessment of Cava's room before she frowns, "Why is none of your stuff in here?"
I look pointedly at the dress she is holding and she tuts at me, "Yes, all your clothes are in the closet but there is nothing in the bedroom itself."
Sighing deeply, I rise from my seat at the end of the bed and move towards the door which is to the left of the dresser and mirror. Pushing it open, I allow Violet to walk through and scan the surroundings.
The bed sheets that cover the bed are green and blu and compliment the cream coloured rug which has a blue line running along the whole border of it. The shelves full of all my drawing and painting supplies and the dresser littered with my beauty products, make up and my signature basket overflowing with all different kinds of hair bobbles and ties for my staple ponytail.
Finally, her gaze lands on the large window seat which overlooks the gardens of the Donatelli estate, the seat which is covered in pens, pencils, open sketchbooks and more pillows than any one person needs.
She spins on her heel and shoots me a disappointed look, "Seriously, Lyra?"
I shrug sheepishly and step into the room, shutting the adjoining door behind me, "After I refused to sleep with Cavallaro on our wedding night, he showed me this room and said I could do whatever I wanted with it as long as, and I quote 'all my shit stays in here and out of his way.'"
Violet does not look impressed, "You promised me that you were going to give the marriage a try Lyra, you promised."
I groan and fall backwards onto my bed, "I know that! And I did, at least I think I did," I groan again and cover my face with my hands, "He's just so infuriating, I don't think we've ever had a civil conversation with one another, we're always just fighting or..."
I pause and Violet picks up on it, "Or what?" She questions.
Sitting up, I look at where she is leaning against my dresser, "Or we are doing something physical, like play fighting, or I'm sitting in his lap doing math or I dunno, pinning me against a wall," I itch my knee, "He does like to do that."
"Math?" Violet mutters, "God. Look Lyra, I love you so I am not going to sugarcoat this. This," she waves around the room and the black dress she is holding flaps about wildly, "this life is your new permanent, it's never and I mean never going to change. It doesn't matter if he hates you or you hate him or even if you can't stand to be in the same room together! This is your life," she points at the floor, "and no one, not even God himself, can get you out of this."
I suck in a breathe.
"You have to make the most of it, babe, you have to try."
Tears prickle at my eyes and I try, I really do try to hold them in but Violet has a way of making all my defence barriers fall to the floor in surrender, "I don't know if I can," I get out between sobs.
She hurries over to the bed and pulls me into her embrace, peppering kisses across my head, "We didn't think we could survive your father and we did," she whispers, "We didn't think we would survive Italy and yet we did," she cups my chin and makes my watery gaze meet her solid one. "We didn't think we'd survive your wedding, but we did," she leans forwards and lets her forehead rest against mine, "We are the strongest fucking women in this goddamn world and there is nothing that we can't do, okay?"
I nod against her whispering, "Okay."
"Perfect," she beams before jumping up from the bed and shoving the dress into my hands, "now go get changed."
- x - x - x -
The dress Violet picked out for me is actually my favourite LBD. It has a subtle V-neck which teases the top of my breasts and thin spaghetti straps that I'm certain would snap in half if Cava so much as put a pinky under them. The dress is form fitting and falls to just above the knee but it has an outrageously high slit that stops on my hip bone meaning I can't wear pants.
Under the flashing lights of the club, my doubts and trepidation about being here return tenfold, I tap Violet on the shoulder, "I think we should go back."
She rolls her eyes before continuing through the bar and I groan at her ignorance.
"She just wants you to have fun, suka," Luka rumbles in my ear as he follows up behind us. "The whole car journey here she wouldn't shut up about how worried she is, she thinks you are miserable here."
I eye the back of her head where she has pulled her pink hair into an extremely messy bun, wasps of cotton candy float all around her making her look like she is floating. I sigh and squeeze her hand in mine, knowing she'll squeeze it back just like old times.
Deciding that we are going to stay means that my eyes are constantly buzzing around the club, trying to identify anyone who may recognise me. Sneaking in here is easy enough, it is attached to the East Wing of one of the mansions on the estate (not the one Cava and I live in, but it isn't too far of a walk), it is staying undetected that will be the challenge; I cannot be caught here.
Luckily, I'm pretty sure Cava is in a business meeting because the conference room was locked and guarded when I went by it earlier, so if I am caught, at least it won't be my husband tying the noose.
As more and more drinks are put in my hand, I slowly begin to relax until Luka, Violet and I are having fun just like we used to in Sorrento. All that is missing is Cat but she is sleeping because she had been working all day yesterday. Nonetheless, we all find ourselves getting swept up in the strobe lights, thumping music and bitter booze.
Until a warm hand wraps around my elbow.
"Hey, what the fuck?" I yell.
Violet and Luka look over at me and Vi opens her mouth to say something until Luka grips her hand and subtly shakes his head, no.
He is eyeing up the guy behind me and all the blood leaks from my body as I realise we have been caught.
Shit.
Whilst I know this man isn't Cavallaro, I let him pull me away from the crowd towards where my husband is most likely waiting for me.
Weirdly, the combined buzz from being around my friends and the alcohol makes funny tingles spread across my body at the thought of seeing Cavallaro. Will he like my dress?
Finally, we reach the VIP section, and Mr Clammy Hands pulls me towards a secluded corner where four sofas sit in a square formation, all of them occupied by men in black suits.
But it is only one of them who captures my interest.
I meet the gaze of my husband as his eyes track over my body and he runs a hand over his mouth as if he doesn't know whether to shout at me or bite me.
Drunk me chooses option two.
I tug my arm out of Clammy Hands' hold and take a step towards where Cavallaro lounges on the midnight sofa, looking like a King on his throne.
A thick eyebrow raises slightly at my small act of defiance but his expression soon flickers into desire as he notes that I am still wearing the insignia necklace despite mourning period being over.
Bingo.
I cross over to him, stopping only when his knees brush against my thighs, I can feel all of his associates eyeing me with interest and I realise most of them probably haven't seen me before, the wedding was mostly for our two families.
"What are you doing here, piccolo sirena?"
Biting my lip, I assess how beautiful he looks leaning back against the sofa, the only seat which isn't occupied by more than one man, all the others have to share. Smoke swirls around him and I notice that he has a joint in his hand, not something I would have thought he indulged in.
Not thinking, I let my buzz guide me forwards so I am straddling his lap. He hisses and moves his hands to my ass but once he realises that the dress is long enough to keep me covered, his arms move to rest against the back of the sofa again.
I hear his associates suck in audible breathes behind me and I know that despite my ass being covered, it is still very much on display in this position. Cavallaro pays them no mind as he keeps his eyes locked on me, a blank expression hanging on his handsome features.
"Forgive me," I whisper, the words falling from my lips before I can even register why they were on my tongue in the first place.
A casual hand lifts so he can inhale a lungful of weed before his other hand shoots out, his cold fingers gripping my chin so he can tug me towards him. He squeezes my cheeks until my lips part and then proceeds to blow the smoke into my mouth.
Surprise flashes across his face as I breath it in easily and his hand drops to squeeze my thigh as his nostrils flare in untapped desire.
Good God, this man.
Drunk, aroused and so absorbed in my husband, I lean forwards and press a soft kiss to his neck, right between his collar and jaw.
He responds with a grunt and another squeeze on my thigh, "I thought you didn't want me, sirena," he mocks.
I ignore the sarcastic tone of his voice and press my lips to him again, opening my mouth and letting my tongue reach out to taste him.
Lemon absorbs by senses and my alcohol infused brain becomes even more drunk on Cavallaro as I press myself down on him, delighting in the feel of his erection.
"Cazzo," he breathes out just loud enough for me to hear before he raises his voice and orders, "Vattene, continueremo domani."
Fuck. Leave, we will continue tomorrow.
My thighs clench around him at the use of his mother tongue and I press harder against him, lips now hovering softly over his neck.
But they are ripped away when Cava grips my ponytail and tugs me back, "You interrupted my meeting Lyra," he growls, leaning forwards to kiss the exposed front of my neck, "Is that how you think you earn my forgiveness?" He nips at my skin and I almost moan in response, "By giving me more defiance?"
My hands lift and thread into his hair, "Forgive me, marito," I repeat, the words seeming to be the only thing that I want, that I need him to hear right now.
He growls and releases my hair, pushing me slightly before leaning against the sofa, his arms stretched out across the back on either side of him, casual and uncaring, as if he didn't have his wife grinding against his lap in the middle of his club.
Fuck, this man is hot.
I move to lean forwards, desperate to feel his lips on mine but he swerves his head away, instead inhaling another drag from his joint.
"You need to earn that, sirena," he rumbles.
Shit. I lean backwards, placing my hands on his shoulders and roll my hips against his, he tenses and I see arousal burning in his gaze but he does nothing, just lets me grind against him as he sits there smoking his weed.
"Cavallaro," I breathe out, my nails digging into his shoulders through his
suit jacket, "forgive me," I whisper again, "please."
Again, I am given no response but I become swept up in him, in the club, in the music, in everything, I lose track of where I am as I let my pleasure, my pure desire for this man, take over as I rub against him desperately.
My mouth falls open as my eyes shut and something warm falls onto my lips. My eyes flash open and I realise he has placed the joint against my lips, he is eyeing me in silent challenge and I slide my lips closed around the end, right where his mouth was moments ago. Holding his stare, keeping our gazes sewn together, I suck in a deep breathe and let the drug saturate into my mind before I slowly blow it out again, letting the smoke seep into the air around us.
"Merda," he mumbles before he abruptly stubs the joint out and grips me by my ass.
Shit.
I yelp as he uses his hold on me to stand up with me wrapped around him like a friggin koala bear. Cavallaro adjusts me so he is carrying me sideways, like the princess that everyone expects me to be.
"Where are we going?" I slur, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears.
Shit, I am not okay.
Cava looks down at me in his arms but says nothing and I briefly register that we are moving, the alcohol and weed making the club spin and twist until the cold night air finally makes me feel like I can breathe again.
But it also makes me realise just how drunk I am; this is not good.
As hard as I am able, so not hard at all, I hit Cava in the chest, "Where are you taking me, stronzo?"
Asshole.
His eyebrows furrow and his grip tightens around me, "Watch your mouth," he snaps before he lowers me into what I assume is his car.
If the journey in the car is a dim fog then the journey into the house and up the stairs is a fucking atrocious blur. But then soft sheets which smell like lemons and look like midnight  encase me and I feel my silver heels being pulled off me.
I am tugged onto unsteady feet and a white shirt is put on over my dress before cold hands reach under the shirt to unzip me and let the LBD fall to the floor by my feet. My blue toenails look ridiculous against the black carpet and I giggle as I wiggle them into the dark softness.
My hair is pulled out of its tight ponytail and fingers which are not attached to my body slowly run through the tangled mane before I am gently pushed back into a bed which I immediately snuggle into with one final thought in my head.
It smells like my marito.
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Written on: 21-23/07/2022
Edited on: 24/07/2022 — 28/08/22
Finalised on: