Page 39 of The Don
She cuts me off with a raised hand. “Are you not the boss?” She turns fully toward me and squints, placing her hand lovingly on my chest. “I thought you were the boss.”
“Do you want to be with the boss, my love?”
She presses her breasts against me, a wicked smile blessing her full mouth. “Yes.” Shae is a beautiful and delicate contradiction. Her eyes are open and playful, maybe even innocent, but her voice is deep, sexy, demanding. Watching her blossom into herself will be a pleasure.
“I’m the boss of Naples,” I tell her. My throat is dry, hoarse with need. “There’s a boss of Sicily.”
“All of Sicily?”
“It’s complicated.”
“So, he’s your boss?”
“No,” I say with a little too much emphasis, and she smiles, knowing she got me.
“Explain it to me, please.” She whispers that request in the same tone of voice she used when she asked me to suck on her clit after lunch.
I grab the hand on my chest and lift it to my mouth, kissing each of her knuckles reverently. “Anything for you, bella.” It’s so easy to imagine a future just like this. Well, without the imminent danger, of course. “There are a number of Sicilian padrini, but the Palermo capo is the head of them all.”
“Why?”
“This is the capital.”
She nods, accepting that well enough. “But he’s not your boss?”
“No.”
“Who is?”
That, too, is complicated and best left to a more secure location. I kiss her hand again. “I can’t tell you that right now. Later,” I whisper against her skin.
“Okay,” she says, nodding quickly and scooting closer. “Is there something specific you think I should do?”
I pull her closer, kissing her hard and fast, shocking a smile from her. She recovers quickly, kissing me back with the same eager fire as every other time our mouths have touched.
“Keep your eyes open and do exactly as I say,” I whisper against her mouth.
“I can’t wait to sit on your dick when we get back home.”
* * *
Shae
I adore the sound of Salvatore’s laughter. It’s hearty and rich, and it makes all of my hair follicles shiver with excitement. I don’t enjoy that he seems shocked by his own laughter as if he hasn’t laughed or smiled or rested in years.
But he does with me, and that is something beyond words.
While he splutters, I resume scoping out the nightclub. It’s as basic as its name. Zoe would call this place trashy-fancy, and she would hate it. Zahra would love it.
I’m undecided, but what I think of this place doesn’t matter. We’re here to do a job and get out — I think. I’m talking a big, brave game to Salvatore, but I’m quaking inside, to be honest.
But if this is what I have to do to make sure that my baby has a father, I’ll do it. How very mafia wife of me!
Salvatore snakes an arm around the back of my chair and gently massages my neck.
My eyes begin to droop, and my head lolls forward. “That’s…not…fair,” I moan, his fingers working muscles I hadn’t even realized were tense.
He chuckles but doesn’t stop.