Chapter 46

Book:Mafia Secret Published:2024-6-3

“Thank you.” I take the stack from her. “I’m not picky.”
Her mouth curves into a shy smile. She glances behind her and gently nudges the door to the room to close it, but the security guard clears his throat before she finishes. “Door open, señorita.”
A flash of frustration crosses her delicate features, but it only lasts a moment.
“It’s okay,” I say. “They probably think I’ll maul you if we’re left alone.”
She blinks at me. “Will you?”
“No.” As soon as I say the word to her, I know it’s true. Unlike her brother, Martina is innocent, and I don’t want to pull her into our drama. She’s gone through enough already.
I squeeze the clothes closer into my chest. “Do you mind if I change?”
“Go ahead,” she says, starting toward the door.
“You don’t need to leave. I’ll just pop into the bathroom quickly. Then you can tell me who baked that heavenly croissant.”
Her face melts into a grin. “You liked it?”
“It’s the best I’ve ever had.”
Her bashful laugh follows me into the bathroom where I quickly swap my towel for a pair of underwear and a loose jersey dress that reaches my mid thigh. No bra. Martina is petite, so she probably didn’t have anything that would fit me in that department.
When I emerge, she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, nibbling on a piece of cheese.
“You remind me of one of my sisters,” I tell her.
“Sisters?”
“I have two. They’re younger than me, and I miss them. A lot.”
“Which one do I remind you of?”
“My younger sister, Cleo. Something about the upper part of your face, like the eyes and the nose. It’s hard to describe, but they’re similar.” I sit down on the opposite corner of the bed and reach for the last bit of that croissant. “She also really loves cheese.”
Martina laughs. “Who doesn’t love cheese?”
“People who can’t taste, clearly. When Cleo and I still lived together, she’d always put together these elaborate cheese boards with all kinds of nuts and jams. Her, my other sister, and I would bring it out to the terrace, sneak a bottle of wine out of my parents’ cellar, and watch the sun set over New York.” We stopped doing that after I got married. My sisters would invite me, but I made up excuses not to go so that I wouldn’t have to spend hours lying to their faces about how my marriage was going.
“I hope you see them again soon.” Martina’s voice is soft. “I’m sure Dem won’t keep you here forever.”
Even if he lets me go, chances are I won’t see my sisters, but there’s no point in telling her that. “Who knows what’s going on inside your brother’s head.”
She grows rigid. I can tell she feels uncomfortable talking about her brother’s plans for me. She’s probably worried she’ll betray his confidence by saying something wrong.
I give her a reassuring smile. “So I gather you like to cook.”
She seems momentarily relieved at the change of topic, then her face falls again. “I used to.” She traces the embroidered pattern on the comforter with her finger. “I don’t do it as much anymore, even though Dem asks me all the time.”
“He didn’t ask you to bake for me, did he?”
Blood rushes to her cheeks. “No. I just wanted to make something nice for you. I used to cook most of mine and my brother’s meals. Now, we’ve hired someone.”
“Why’s that?”
Suddenly, she stills her tracing and flattens her hand on the bedspread. “After New York, I lost interest in it.”
I see it then in her eyes. A hollowness filled with lingering pain. I’d bet my life it didn’t exist until she met Lazaro, and no matter how much I want to look away, I don’t allow myself to. This is what my husband does to people if he doesn’t end up killing them. He destroys them from within.
Just like he did to me.
Martina doesn’t deserve this. She’s just a young girl caught up in the cruel games of her brother’s world, and she must move past what happened to her.
I want to help her move on. I owe it to her.
The security guard is watching us through the crack in the door, so I don’t take her hand, but I move my fingers closer to where hers rest. She notes the movement and gives me a questioning look.
“Martina, it will get better,” I tell her in a low voice. “Give it time. You must be patient with yourself, but you can’t stop fighting.”
She squeezes her lips together and takes in a shuddery breath through her nose. For a while, she doesn’t say anything, she just shakes her head over and over again. I think she’s holding back tears. My heart trembles for her.
Finally, she whispers, “I convinced her to come with me. I-” Her voice cracks, and she scrambles off the bed. Before I even have a chance to utter another word, she’s already out the door.
The locks click into place. It sounds like a candle being blown out with a frantic breath.
I spend the rest of the day picking at my food and watching the ocean through the window. When the sun is almost over the horizon, the door opens, and it’s that grumpy security guard from earlier. He hands me a tray with my dinner and leaves without saying a word.
When I’m done eating, I decide to take another shower, and that’s when my day perks up. I notice that the showerhead is removable with five different settings, just like the one I had back in Lazaro’s home. If Damiano wanted to torture me by way of horrible boredom, this is a serious omission on his part.
I take the showerhead out of its holder, lean against the tiled wall, and point the spray between my legs. It takes me a little while to find the right angle, but then I manage to do it, and dear Lord, it’s bliss. In a moment, I forget where I am and just focus on the soft pulses of pleasure radiating from my core.
It takes me right back to yesterday, when Damiano brought me to the edge and left me there. Damn that man. Being tied up and completely at his mercy shouldn’t turn me on, but it does. I remember how he thrust his thick fingers inside of me, how his hot lips brushed against the sensitive spot at the back of my neck. The contrast of him fully clothed and me with my shorts around my knees. He could have come around, lifted me by my thighs, and fucked me right there. I know he wanted to. Maybe be stopped when he did because he was about to lose control. I wish he did. I wish he’d finish me off and then fill me with his cum again. Afterwards, he’d leave me there, and I’d spend the rest of the day with his cum slowly dripping down my thighs.
The pressure explodes, and I bite down on my lip to keep the shout from coming out. Oh God. Waves of pleasure cascade over me, all the way from my head, down to my toes.
My legs shake as I step out of the shower, wrap a towel around me, and sit down on the toilet lid. When my breaths finally slow, I drop my forehead into my palms and allow reality to creep in.
I just masturbated to a fantasy of Damiano-the capo who’s keeping me locked up in his house-using me like a doll.
There’s something seriously wrong with me.
With that depressing thought, I climb into bed and flick off the lights. Maybe the shower head isn’t such a good idea after all. Tomorrow, I’ll have to work on finding another way to entertain myself while I wait for Damiano to decide what he’s going to do with me.
He never came to see me today. He may have called my father already, and I wouldn’t be any wiser. How much stock can I really put into his promises?
I toss and turn in bed until a restless sleep finally claims me.
VALENTINA