“Mad?” came Lu’s drowsy voice, and my heartbeat slowed again.
“Go back to sleep,” I said gruffly. My cock pulsed with excess blood. The last time I woke with a raging hard-on like that I had been a teenager.
Lu curled toward me, her hand brushing my dick. “Want me to suck you off?”
Yes, shit, but I’d only imagine it was Marcella.
That would take things down a very dangerous road.
“No, go back to sleep.”
Her breathing evened out within minutes and I kept staring at the ceiling, ignoring my throbbing dick.
I should have known Luca Vitiello’s spawn would make my life hell even before she was in our hands. Her father had haunted my nightmares for years. It was only fitting that now his daughter took over.
I checked my reflection one last time. Everything was perfect. At exactly four in the afternoon, the doorbell rang. Giovanni was never late. He wasn’t even early. He was always on point. In the beginning, I’d found his desire to please me, and especially my dad, adorable. Now I had to stifle my annoyance as he stepped into the foyer after our maid Lora had let him in.
He wore a perfectly ironed dress shirt and pants, and his hair was in place despite the storm raging outside. I headed down the staircase to greet him. When I stood on my tiptoes to kiss his lips, he quickly dodged me and kissed my palm, slanting a cautious look at Lora who pointedly looked anywhere but at us.
I gave him a look, no longer trying to mask my annoyance. “Giovanni, my father isn’t home and even if he were, he knows we’re a couple. We’re engaged for heaven’s sake.”
I could see that my words weren’t making the slightest impact on him. His fear of my father was too great. This wasn’t news and not even particularly shocking. Giovanni gave me one of his pleading smiles, which always looked a little on the verge of being painful. He took my hand.
“Let’s go up to my room,” I said, linking our hands.
Giovanni hesitated. “Shouldn’t I greet your mother first?”
That was his miserable attempt to gauge if my mother was home. “She’s not home either,” I quipped, losing my patience.
He finally followed me upstairs but I could still feel his worry lingering, and it eventually came through when we reached the first-floor landing. “What about your brother? He’s the master of the house when your father isn’t home.”
“My brother’s in his room, probably playing Fortnight or whatever else he’s into at the moment. He doesn’t care if you say hi to him.”
“But maybe we should alert him of my presence.”
I was starting to lose my patience. Narrowing my eyes, I said, “He knows you’re here, and he doesn’t care. I’m the oldest Vitiello present.”
“But you’re—”
…a woman.
He didn’t have to say it. Only a woman, and thus, completely irrelevant. I stifled a new wave of frustration.
“It’s not like you’re a stranger, Giovanni. You are my frigging fiancé.”
Giovanni hated it when I cursed—he thought it was unladylike and not fitting for a Capo’s daughter—which was exactly why I used it to annoy him. He obviously had no problem annoying me with his fear of being alone with me.
We finally settled on my bed after yet another argument if we should leave the door of my room ajar. I could tell Giovanni wasn’t into our kiss. His tongue was like a lifeless snail in my mouth. Kissing him had never really set my blood on fire but this topped it off. He seemed miles away. I got up with a seductive smile and pulled my dress over my head, presenting the new La Perla bra and panty set I’d bought only last week in the hopes that someone other than myself would see it. They were black lace, revealing the hint of my nipples.
Giovanni’s eyes widened as they raked over me and hope burst through me. Maybe we were actually getting somewhere. I crept back into bed but I could already see trepidation take over Giovanni’s expression as if I was going to force myself on him. I kissed him and tried to pull him down on me but he pushed up on his arms, levitating over me, a pained expression on his face. I felt heat rise into my cheeks at his rejection. I wasn’t even sure why I still felt this way when his pulling back had become a painful routine.
Giovanni shook his head. “I can’t Marcella. Your father would kill me if he found out.”
“But my father isn’t here,” I growled.
And yet he was. My father was always in the room when I was alone with Giovanni, not physically. He didn’t have to be because he was in Giovanni’s head. Everyone was terrified of my father, even my fiancé. My father’s shadow followed wherever I went. I loved my family more than anything, but in moments like this, I wished I wasn’t Marcella Vitiello. Even though my father allowed me to date, by merely existing he enforced the old traditions I technically wasn’t bound to anymore. I was still expected to remain a virgin until my wedding night, but whatever else Giovanni and I did was our problem. Of course, it would be, if Giovanni had the balls to touch me.