“W
hy aren’t you naked?” I heard a quiet whisper by my ear.I opened my eyes. It was completely dark in the bedroom and the living room. The clock showed eleven. I rolled over, cuddling against my husband’s torso.
“Because I didn’t expect to wake up next to you. And I needed to smell you.” I pinched the edge of his shirt that I had on, pulling it off and throwing it to the floor.
The Man in Black wrapped his arms around me and pressed me against his chest.
“It didn’t sound like you missed me over the phone.” He pulled away and looked at me. “And while we’re at it, your phone has been switched off since yesterday.”
Petrified, I raised my eyes and met his gaze. I had turned my phone off yesterday, and with all that had happened, I had simply forgotten to turn it back on. If he raked me over the coals now, he’d be in the right. Massimo’s
stare was surprisingly gentle, and his hand caressing my hair didn’t signify trouble.
“What are you actually doing here?” I asked, knitting my brows. “You were supposed to come tomorrow. Did something happen?”
“My love,” he whispered, kissing my forehead.
“I got scared when you called me. I was worried about you.” He sighed and tightened his embrace. “I should have been here with you when your mom learned about the baby.”
“I’m sorry for yelling at you. Sometimes I can’t control myself.” I rolled onto my back. “And she didn’t only learn about the baby. I told her about our marriage, too. I told her the whole story.”
Massimo gracefully rose to his feet and pressed a button on the remote.
The lights switched on. He bit his lip, thinking, and his beautiful, muscular body tensed, only to relax an instant later. He looked out to the windows, puzzled. I could have watched him the whole night, but my rumbling stomach had other ideas.
“I need to deal with some things at work, Laura,” Massimo said finally, disappearing into the bathroom, where he brushed his teeth, and then into the dressing room. He changed into his black suit. “Get ready for another trip. We’re going to Gdańsk. Domenico and Olga are at her place. I’ll be back before four.”
I stayed in bed, my face a mask of bewilderment, thinking about what had just happened. What had made him change clothes in thirty seconds and leave without another word?
“You’ve only just arrived, Massimo! Don’t you want to have breakfast with me?”
“I came yesterday evening, so I spent the whole night with you.” He sat at the edge of the bed and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. “I’ll get it done in no time. I’ll be all yours then.”
I crossed my arms and pouted.
“I’d like you to know that my needs have not been satisfied lately,” I complained. “And as my husband, it is your duty to sate all my desires.
Besides, I’m angry, frustrated, sad, and hungry.” The words poured from my mouth as I felt despair encroaching again.
Massimo’s eyes darkened. He narrowed them, looking at me. I ignored that signal, and that proved to be my mistake. I only noticed him shrugging off his jacket and stretching his lips in a half smile. Then he was right next
to me. His hands lifted me up and he carried me to the dining room, putting me down so I faced the large table. He was behind me.
“We’ll do this like we did it in the past,” he said matter-of-factly, pulling down my panties and pushing his knee between my legs.
He knelt and pushed me over the tabletop. His warm, moist tongue left a trail of saliva on my pussy. I moaned loudly as it started to trace circles around it. I lay down, my body sticking to the cold surface of the table.
Massimo was hungrily licking my cunt, leading me quickly to the verge of ecstasy.
Then he straightened and slid two fingers into my snatch, preparing the way for his cock. As his right hand rubbed the inside of my hole, his left unbuckled his belt.
“Quick and hard,” he breathed into my ear as his pants dropped to the floor. “And don’t ever say…” His prick took the place of his fingers, and his hand shot out to grab my hair, pulling my head back. “… that I don’t satisfy you.” His hips slammed into me from behind and started pounding like a jackhammer. I cried out.
Massimo let go of my head. His fingers bit into the skin of my buttocks as he kept impaling me.
“You like provoking me, eh?” he hissed, allowing one hand to drop lower, rubbing against my clit.
His rock-hard prick was thrusting in and out so fast, I was sure the whole thing couldn’t last long. The Man in Black leaned over me, pressing me into the table without interrupting. His left hand cupped my breast, and his chest lowered itself onto my back. His fingers squeezed my nipple, crushing it. It was too much to bear.
I came with a loud moan, splayed on the cold table, now slick with sweat. As Massimo felt me orgasming, my muscles contracting around his penis, he bit into my shoulder and joined me, flooding me with a great stream of cum.
“I love it,” he gasped out as we were both trying to catch our breath, sticking to each other.
Then he pulled away and rolled me over to my back. He glanced at his cock, still hard, and slipped inside me with a grin. Half-conscious after the massive orgasm, I didn’t have the strength to resist as he picked up the pace again.
“You were saying something about not being sated?” He lifted my limp legs and propped my feet on the edge of the table. “Let’s go again, baby girl.” His thumb touched my swollen, red clit.
For the next fifteen minutes he fucked me like a machine. I prayed he wasn’t planning on round three. How was it even possible that a guy his age was able to fuck like a teenager? I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
Massimo pulled up his pants and smiled with satisfaction, observing my drained body. He closed the distance between us, took me in his arms and carried me to the couch, covering me with a blanket.
“As I was saying, I’ll be back around four.”
He kissed me on the lips, grabbed his black coat and left the apartment.
He fucked me good, I thought as the door closed. Maybe even too good. I got more than I bargained for. I’d think twice next time before provoking him.
I didn’t get up for another thirty minutes, watching the snow behind the window. Finally, I went to the shower. I did my hair and applied some makeup—a bit more and a bit more carefully than normally. My perfect Italian tan had disappeared, but—though paler—I still looked great. I was searching for something to wear in the dressing room when I heard a commotion.
“I’m hungry! Let’s grab something to eat,” Olga shouted from outside.
I peeked into the living room, but she wasn’t there, so I walked to the kitchen. There she was, ass sticking out as she rummaged through my fridge.
“Candy, booze-free wine, juice.” She listed the things she found, still digging through the contents of the refrigerator. “I’d love me some pasta now… or a steak.” She took a step back. “Yes. That’s it. A steak, a bunch of potatoes, a salad, and a beer. Move your ass or I’ll starve to death.”
I stayed in place, leaning against the wall, studying the madness in her eyes.
“You haven’t eaten yet?”
“There were more important things than eating, for fuck’s sake. Let’s go.
Domenico went to take care of something with the guys. We don’t have much time.”
The door swung open, and the young Italian barged in. I stared at him, perplexed. What was going on?
“Why aren’t you ready yet?” he asked. I shook my head, leaving the two alone, and went to dress myself. I had everything prepared—all the things I was going to wear to look pretty for my husband. Black suede Casadei boots, a short gray Victoria Beckham dress, and a short black Chanel coat. I grabbed my bag and went back to the kitchen, where Domenico and Olga were occupying themselves with licking Nutella off each other’s skin.
“You two are disgusting.”
All three of us took the elevator to the garage and got into a black SUV.
Domenico sat with a security guard, and Olga and I took seats in the back.
“Everything done?” I asked conspiratorially, forgetting that no one but us knew Polish.
“I did fuck all.” She sighed. “Before I met with Adam, Domenico arrived, and that was that.”
I frowned and shrugged.
“But I bet he figured out what I wanted to tell him anyway,” she added.
The car stopped by a popular restaurant run by a well-known Polish chef. I was surprised that the Italians knew such places here in Warsaw.
We entered the building. All tables were taken. That was to be expected.
It was the middle of the day. Domenico approached the manager and whispered something into his ear, pushing a little package in his hand. The man quickly led us to a small room separate from the main restaurant. We sat at a round table and leafed through the menu before ordering. The waiter brought us a plate of Polish delicacies as we waited for the main course.
As we sated our hunger on butter, bread, and salty pickles, Olga leaned over to me.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” she said. We both excused ourselves and left for the main hall.
The restaurant had a minimalist décor—tasteful, with wooden accents and black-and-white portraits on the walls.
There were white calla lilies in tall vases along the walls. The speakers hummed with subtle music and the mouthwatering smell of food filled the entire place. I got hungry all over again.
Suddenly, Olga halted, staring at a man sitting at one of the tables.
“Holy motherfucking shit-balls,” she swore, her grip on my hand tightening.
I followed her eyes.
The cause of her sudden immobility was evident. A handsome blond man was rising from his chair. Wide torso, perfectly fitting expensive jacket, luscious lips. It had to be said that Adam was one hell of a stud. He was rich, attractive, and intelligent. He caught Olga’s eyes, pushed himself to his feet, and started heading our way.
His confident gait led him straight to us. He stopped too close, kissed Olga on the cheek, and then gave me a terse nod.
“I missed you,” he murmured, his tongue flicking across his lips as he kept his eyes fixed on my friend.
His hands slid into his pockets and his entire body relaxed into a nonchalant posture as he spread his legs and lifted his chin. All rich men have that in common—a certain casualness, an aura of authority and unshakeable confidence. Those very characteristics were what we were both looking for in potential partners, and Adam had all three in abundance.
“Hi, Adam,” Olga stammered, shooting nervous glances behind him. “I wanted to talk to you, but this isn’t the time or place for that.”
I was desperately trying to extricate myself from this uncomfortable spot, but Olga’s fingers clamped around my wrist, begging me to stay.
“You never cared about either the time or place.”
He lifted his brows in a suggestive expression and flashed Olga a charming smile.
“I’ll call you later, okay?” Olga proposed, taking a step back and pulling me with her.
Losing her angelic sponsor wasn’t going to be that easy. Adam shot out with both arms and pulled Olga into an embrace, brutally pushing his tongue into her mouth. Olga’s hand released my wrist as she pushed her horny sugar daddy away. Without thinking twice, she took a swing at him and slapped him in the face with such force, the sound drowned out the music. The eyes of every guest fixed on the confrontation. I drew back a couple of steps, noticing Domenico striding our way with murder in his eyes.
“D-d-domenico…” I stuttered, before the Italian’s balled fist reached Adam’s face. The blond man toppled to the floor, but the Sicilian didn’t stop there, instead pummeling him until a pair of security guards restrained him.
The manager was shouting shrilly, guests shot up from their chairs, and Domenico strained against the two bouncers, red with fury. The Italian’s own security guards tried to intervene, but more restaurant doorkeepers crowded into the room. Suddenly, the doors swung open and a group of police officers barged in, promptly handcuffing Domenico. Meanwhile, Adam pushed himself up from the floor, growling threats and cussing like a sailor, and Olga wailed, tears streaking freely down her cheeks. Will my life ever stop being a damned soap opera? I thought. A moment later, both men left, and we stood there, in the middle of the restaurant, right in the spotlight of the other guests’ gazes. Olga bowed sarcastically and stormed off, heading to our table. We hadn’t even reached it when my phone vibrated in my handbag.
“Are you all right?” It was Massimo, of course.
“The police took Domenico.”
“I know. Are you all right?” he repeated.
“Yeah.”
“Go home and wait for me there,” he said, hanging up.
“Good talk,” I muttered, grabbing my coat and motioning for Olga to follow me to the exit.
We got into the SUV. By that time, Olga’s crying had transformed into a raging fury.
“How could he humiliate me like that? The fucking idiot!” she yelled, pummeling the back of the driver’s seat with her hands.
“Calm down,” I said, buttoning up my coat.
“They both got what was coming to them. The blondie won’t kiss random women anymore, and Domenico will finally learn that he’s not God everywhere.”
There was a long pause. “And I’m still fucking hungry!” Olga burst out finally.
I chuckled and directed the driver to take us to my favorite Chinese takeout.
We sat down on the carpet, laying out boxes with food on the floor. I grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge and offered my friend a glass. She
downed it and nodded, signaling that she was up for a refill. Three glasses later, she tumbled onto her back and hid her face in her hands.
“What if something happens to him?” she asked, close to tears again.
“I think he might have broken Adam’s nose.”
“I don’t fucking care about his goddamned nose! I’m worried about Domenico!”
“Maybe now you don’t care, but I remember the times when you cared about a lot more than Adam’s nose,” I said after a while, slurping a forkful of noodles. Olga peeked at me from between her fingers, sending me a disapproving look. I thought I noticed a twinkle of amusement in her eyes.
“You’re a despicable person.”
“And you were supposed to be hungry. Eat up.”
Olga downed the bottle of wine and grabbed another. I didn’t want her to keep drinking alone, so I fetched my own beverage. I switched the fireplace on and settled down on the couch next to my friend. Covered with blankets, we watched TV in perfect silence. This is the greatest benefit of having a true friend: feeling comfortable with someone without having to talk.
It was past twelve, and Massimo still hadn’t called. I shot a glance at Olga. She had blacked out, falling asleep with her makeup smeared over her face and her clothes still on. I decided to undress her, but as soon as I touched her, she growled and wrapped herself tighter in her blanket.
“I guess that means no,” I muttered, planting a kiss on her forehead and going to the bathroom.
I took a shower and returned to the living room. She wouldn’t want to be alone when she woke up. I apathetically surfed channels, staring at the screen without thinking about anything in particular. Maybe I should have called Massimo? Checked on him? No. If he wanted to talk, he’d have called me himself. I finally dozed off around two in the morning.
Half-conscious, I felt someone’s strong hands carrying me to the bedroom. My eyes flicked open, and I saw my husband’s face. He looked exhausted.
“What time is it?” I asked as he laid me down in bed.
“Five. Go back to sleep, honey.”
“What about Domenico?” I shook my head, clearing it, hell-bent on learning the truth here and now.
The Man in Black plopped down on the edge of the mattress, pulled off his jacket, and started unbuttoning his shirt.
“He’s been arrested, and it looks like he’ll have to spend some time in detention.” He dropped his head and sighed deeply. “I told him this isn’t Sicily. And it wouldn’t be a problem if he hit any other guy, but he just had to target your young Polish potentate. A damned national treasure.” He lifted his eyes, shook his head, and glared at the wall. “Karol tells me he might not get out for a while.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Three months behind bars so he doesn’t ‘obstruct the case’ or run abroad. We would have dealt with this if not for the fact that the guy he threw a punch at is one of the richest men in town. Besides, he broke the guy’s nose, and that means a ‘health impairment requiring more than seven days to heal.’ That is an indictable offense here. He doesn’t even have to sue. The prosecutor does that ex officio.”
I stared at Massimo wide-eyed, fully awake now.
“Massimo,” I whimpered, cuddling to his back. “What’s going to happen now?”
He sat perfectly still, but I could feel his heart racing.
“Nothing. I’m meeting our lawyers tomorrow. We’ll have to see that asshole in person. Maybe I shoot him and bury him in a forest. Who knows?”
I moved around him and sat in his lap, taking his face in my hands.
“This isn’t funny,” I said seriously.
“We’re flying to Gdańsk tomorrow. I’m not needed here. We’ll go see the fight night. I also have some meetings to attend. Then we go back home.”
He sighed and touched his forehead to mine. “Karol will take care of everything. Don’t worry, baby girl.” He smooched me on the nose. “This isn’t Domenico’s first rodeo. With his character, you didn’t think this was his first stay in jail, did you?” He smiled and laid me in bed, snuggling down beside me.
His tone surprised me. It was full of worry, soft and gentle.
“My little brother is a hot-blooded man, but you know that already. He’s also very impressionable, though he doesn’t look like it. There was this one time he fell in love with a manager of our club in Milan. To his misfortune, she had a husband. A gorilla of a man. Domenico wasn’t too discreet, and the husband learned of the affair.”