“Finally,” he grunts.
His face shows appreciation instead of anger and there’s no smirk in place. I stop struggling and become aware of his, and with it my own body. Mainly the part growing hard between us. His gaze slides to my lips. My breathing picks up and I can feel my nipples harden due to the butterflies exploding in my lower body.
It’s completely foreign and I’m sure it can only be compared to the stuff I know from those romance books. A connection. Pleasure. Desire. One, all, what-freaking-ever; this is amazing and indescribable.
His voice is a husky rumble when he murmurs the words, “Did you want our first kiss at our wedding in front of everyone? Or right fucking now so we can have a real one just for us?”
I watch his lips move closer. I know what he asked but I can’t make my brain process the necessity of answering. I’m too intrigued and need to know what it would feel like to connect our mouths. My head slowly moves forward, as if I’m automatically drawn to him, and softly brush my lips against his.
A growl rumbles through him, making me gasp. His tongue slides in and swirls around mine. I moan into his mouth. The feelings he awakens inside my body are overwhelming. The way he rolls his hips, pressing his hard length against my lower body is a solid promise that my days as a virgin are numbered.
The pressure on my clit intensifies when he shifts and rolls his hips. Heat flashes through me and right when I’m about to surrender to the greatest pleasure, everything disappears and I’m left cold with Clemente hovering over me. He yanks on my arm to tug me to my feet. Holy shit, I almost had my first orgasm right here on the floor of the gym.
Clemente clears his throat. “That’s enough for today. Go take a shower.”
He spins on his heels and leaves the room. I’m still reeling about what just happened and the way we collided, connected, until he ripped us apart. He completely washed away the intense feeling I felt and replaced it with anger. This man is infuriating me every chance he gets.
I stomp back to the bedroom and Clemente is nowhere in sight. I take a quick shower and get myself ready for a meeting with Clemente’s sister, Gracy. We exchanged phone numbers the second we climbed into the limo yesterday. She texted me to ask if we could meet, seeing as Chance and Aubrey’s short vacation was canceled and she and Eddie didn’t have to house sit. Gracy is very welcoming, sweet, and nothing like her half-brother.
She’s the one organizing the wedding and wanted to talk details. And yes, she did mention a bachelorette party with just a few girls. I don’t know anyone here and told her so, gently indicating I want to keep it small. And to be honest, there isn’t another choice since I have no friends.
Then she rattled about how she would ask her friend Aubrey to join us. The second she mentioned Aubrey and her involvement with an animal shelter, I was all ears and was itching to meet and talk with her.
I know Clemente doesn’t want pets, not to mention he added the fact that he didn’t want me working. Such a disappointment. I love animals and really wanted one. But I guess I can settle with volunteering at the shelter if that’s possible. It’s not the same as a full-time, paid job but it’s something. Besides, I like to feel useful and give back to the community. And I really need furry affection, it really lightens my mood and drains stress. This could be a nice way to combine things.
My phone chimes, indicating I have a message. I was expecting a message from Gracy but instead it’s a text from Donya, my cousin and best friend who I had to leave behind in Italy. I wish she was here or at least would be able to come to the wedding.
Sadly, she wasn’t as fortunate as me since my father wanted me to be strong in every way. Her father, on the other hand, kept the tight restrictions in place and has been searching for a husband for her for a few months now. The man is mainly scouting for personal gain to wed her off to someone higher up the chain to lift himself up, instead of thinking about his daughter’s wellbeing.
A few taps on my phone and her message pops up. I take in her words. Words that make instant panic flare up. My fingers fly over my phone and I bite my lip waiting for a reply. Minutes pass but there’s no response whatsoever. Without thinking I head downstairs. I don’t care what I have to do. I’d gladly drop down to my knees and beg Clemente; I have to try and save Donya.
The message she sent was short but direct. She overheard her father talking with her mother. Her father is debating the request for her hand in marriage. Nothing out of the ordinary since we knew it was coming, but the request comes from Marco Donelliso.
Marco has gone through two wives already. And what I mean by that is he killed the first because she almost managed to kill him, and the second one killed herself a few days before I stepped on a plane to come here. This asshole smacks his wives around and uses them as he deems fit.
In my rush down the stairs, I almost bump into Leandro and I sidestep but it makes me collide with Arturo instead.
“Hold your horses, woman.” Arturo chuckles and immediately drops his hands he was using to make sure I didn’t fall on my ass.
“I’m sorry,” I croak, my voice still filled with emotion. “I need to talk to Clemente, it’s important.”
“What’s wrong?” Leandro asks.
“Clemente isn’t in his office and not answering his phone. We have a meeting in about thirty minutes, so he’ll show up soon. But whatever it is, we can help,” Arturo states.
“It’s my cousin, Donya.” I sigh.
I’m trying really hard to think of a reason why she needs to get on a plane and come here. Because these are mafia men I’m talking to. They live by the same rules and Donya is just one of many women who is bound to be tied into an arranged marriage. Nothing wrong about it.
“And?” Arturo presses.
“I’m thinking,” I whisper and try to push away tears.
I rarely cry. I’ve learned to control my emotions but being miles away from my cousin and best friend is killing me. Not to mention I’m just a woman without any power. It completely wears me out.
My shoulders sag and my phone—which I’m still clutching in my hand—starts to ring. A picture of Donya appears on my screen. All I can do is stare at it while my mind is still trying to think of what to do and say.
Arturo gently takes the phone from my hand and answers the call, putting it on speaker before he says, “Hello, gorgeous. Caterina can’t answer the phone right now, so you get me, Arturo. With whom do I have the pleasure?”
“Donya,” my cousin croaks. She tries to hide a sniffle and adds, “I’ll try to call back later.”
“No, you won’t. It’s not nice to tell me a lie,” Arturo says with a very gentle tone. “So, instead, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong, gorgeous? Caterina is just as upset as you are and I need to know why, so I can help.”
“It’s nothing. You can’t help. No one can. I’m better off dealing with this alone. Tell Caterina not to worry about me when I’m gone. Tell her I love her and that I hope she will be happy. Tell her...even if I’m gone, I’ll always be with her.”
“Don’t do it,” I croak. “You can get on a plane. Come to me. Don’t—” I swallow a sob instead of voicing the words, “kill yourself.”