((Smut alert))

I sit atop the gigantic mahogany dining table. My legs swing and my hands are clasped and pushed between my thighs while anxiety thrums my nerves. Pietro glares at me and Marco stares off into the distance.

I told them everything, except Slava's comment... well, technically I told Marco but Pietro was around too. I tried tip-toeing around the kissing part and wrapping it up with close proximity, but unfortunately, Marco immediately caught on.

"This eesa yourr faulta," Pietro grumbles, waving his index finger in my direction.

"Fifty percent yes," I hesitantly correct him.

Scowling he opens his mouth but Marco quickly interjects, "Per favore, mio caro." [Please, my dear]

Pietro purses his mouth and shoves his hands into his pockets. Clearly, this pissy side of Elio and Pietro runs in their paternal genes.

"Comare willa keell you," Pietro mutters.

"Thanks for reminding me of the inevitable." I plaster a fake wide smile making him roll his eyes.

"Henough, both of you," Marco says. He waves his hand in the staircase's direction. "Vai e controlla di cosa stanno parlando." [Go and check what they are talking about.]

"Cosa! Sono il secondo in comando, non puoi darmi ordini in giro." [What! I'm second in command, you can't order me around]

Marco snorts, "Sbrigati, Pietro." [Hurry up]

He mutters something under his breath before stalking off, making Marco chuckle.

Once he's out of earshot, Marco lays his hand on my knee. "Grazie mille, cara. Thank you, for last night."

I grin, my body slightly relaxing. "I'm glad you told him."

"Pietro his 'appy too, he justa doesn't know 'ow to show 'is grratitude."

My brows squish together. "How did-"

"Hi told 'im," he answers with his head held high.

A breathy laugh tumbles out of me but it dies out as Elio's face crosses my mind.

"Was eet... the firrst time, you hand Elio kisseda?" Marco smirks, his hazel eyes lighting up with mischief.

Paris's memories flit past my mind, our first kiss in the nightclub, and our second kiss leading to- I shake my head, heat creeping up to my cheeks.

Marco laughs, clapping his hands together. "Hi knew it! Since whena?" he chuckles before eyeing me suspiciously. "Comare saw you only kisseeng, righta?"

"Yes, Marco," I snap, my cheeks burning.

He throws his head back guffawing as he holds his palms up in mock defeat. "Seence?" he asks after quieting down, wiggling his brows.

I wrap my arms around myself. "I really shouldn't be talking about these things with you," I mumble.

He feigns offense. "Why nota? Hi thought we harre frriendsa."

I lift a shoulder and jump down from the table, shuffling my feet as I lean to the edge. "Paris," reluctantly I answer.

"Davvero?"

I frown with confusion seeing his surprised face.

"Really?" he translates himself, confusing me further. "Elio his... verry quick to... um... get what he wantsa. Especially with womena."

"I'm not following you."

He sighs and rubs his brows. "He neverr waitsa. Hi thought you two went hall the way in Firenze."

"Florence!" I gasp then shake my head with a laugh. "We couldn't stand each other back then."

He raises his brows and lifts his shoulders. "Surre." A corner of his mouth twitches with a smirk.

I huff and rub my upper arms. "We didn't like each other back then," I say, before catching the follow-up meaning and internally smacking myself. I quickly try to correct it. "Not that we do now... we're just... co-living more peacefully."

"Surre." He tries and fails to hide his grin.

I roll my eyes. He doesn't know what's going on between us... well, neither do I but at least I know Elio hated my guts back in Florence. Perhaps this physical attraction thingy grew from our constant close proximity.

"Don'ta worry. Elio knows 'ow to 'andle hess mother," Marco speaks after a long while.

I gulp and meet his gaze as I feebly nod. "She said something to him."

His brows pucker.

"It was Russian... and..." my voice trails down as I recall her words and recite them to Marco, or at least try to.

Marco stays silent for a long time, his features turn from shock to anger to disappointment all in a matter of seconds, making my heart anxiously beat faster. "I'm not sure if it was exactly this or not... and the pronunciations are probably off, but can you guess what she told him?"

"Hi cana," he solemnly says. A long moment goes by, he rubs his face, his shoulders hunching.

"Well?"

"The wrrosta thing a parent can tella herr sona... she ees verry unforrgiving," he grimly says before muttering something under his breath, his tone suggesting he might be cursing.

Pietro's voice startles us both. Marco spins, facing him as Pietro explains in Italian whatever he heard going down between them. The only word I recognize is Vasiliev —the powerful Russian mob who might be behind the flash drive complication. An uncomfortable chill runs down my spine.

I also note Pietro understands Russian too... I suppose it becomes necessary when Slava still holds so much influence and power.

Marco's mouth curls with distaste.

"What?" I push.

"She's bin trrying to convince Elio to marrry one of the rivaling Russian families' daughterr, either Belov's niece or now she's sayinga Maxim Vasiliev's daughterra."

"What!" I half shout. In which era does this woman live! My gosh.

Marco nods, his mouth tugging downwards. "She's been trrying for a yearr now, but everr since she found hout about heverything, she's bin trrying harrdera."

"Wow," I breathe out with disbelief.

"She says hit'll make hus morre powerrful, and hend the fight."

With a frown, hesitantly I dare to ask, "Is she right?"

Marco shrugs.

"No!" Pietro asserts. "Elio weell neverr marrry a Russian. His wife willa be Siciliana."

I scrunch up my nose. "That's very racist of you."

"That's 'ow Cosa Nostra worksa."

"Who said your Cosa Nostra isn't fundamentally based on racism?" I counter.

"Forr the family, forr the powerr, Elio 'as to marry a Siciliana and the next capo 'as to be full Siciliano," Pietro states.

I bite my tongue to stop myself from pointing out the next capo won't be fully Sicilian since his grandmother—Slava—is very much Russian.

"Hor hit cana be Americana too," Marco says, a grin threatening to spill over his face.

My brows pull together as I stare at him. "Wait a second, there are no American mob families. Most of them were in New York... they were all captured, there's no one left. Are you telling me there are still mafias active in the States?"

And I've been chasing after Mexicans all along! Oh my God, that would be so fucking embarrassing. The biggest failure of my career.

Marco throws his head back and laughs so hard his entire body shakes. My mouth hangs open as I watch him suspiciously.

What's the joke?

My lack of knowledge in my area of profession? I hope not.

I glance at Pietro and his eyes meet mine, suddenly widening. With a scowl, he turns to Marco. "No!"

"Non conosciamo il futuro." [We don't know the future] Marco grins at him before turning to me. "Don'ta worry, hi'll tell the men hin frront of yourr rooma to be morre carreful, hand not let hanyone except Elio, me, hand Pietro in. Hokay?"

"Thanks," I mumble uncertainly.

"Go to yourr rooma, hand don'ta leave without one of hus."

"Okay." I nod and slowly walk away.

Just as I reach the staircase, I hear Pietro's frustrated voice. "Non può succedere. Elio e lei! No!" [It can't happen. Elio and her! No!]

My hand rests on the railing and my foot on the first stair, I eavesdrop, hoping to catch a familiar word.

"È solo un passatempo per Elio. Non è del nostro mondo, è anche una nemica. Avrà finito con lei in una settimana. Quando sarà sazio di lei, si annoierà e passerà a qualcun altro." [It's just a pastime for Elio. She isn't from our world, she's also an enemy. He'll be done with her in a week. When he's had his fill with her, he'll get bored and move on to someone else.]

Enemy is the only word I recognize. Who's he talking about? 

Perhaps Vasiliev's daughter? I hope he's not referring to me and complaining about why Marco explained things to me.

I sigh and shake my head, climbing up the stairs and going to my room.

I pace up and down, my fingers fidgeting as I mull over this new information. If Elio agrees to go along with his mother's plan and marry Vasiliev's daughter... does that mean the conflict will be over? I can go back to my normal life?

I halt in the middle of the room and gaze out of the window. It should make me happy. Finally getting out of Palermo, returning to my old lifestyle is what I've wanted all along... why am I not getting happy?

I glance at the door. My stomach churns from discomfort.

Oh my God! Is this what Stockholm syndrome feels like?

But Elio isn't abusing me... and I could've left if I wanted, I didn't because I didn't want to be captured by other mobs. Yet, I wanted to leave and he didn't let me.

I nibble my bottom lip.

Imagining another woman next to Elio is making me... uncomfortable to put it lightly.

Really, what the fuck is wrong with me!

A faint sound of a door slamming jolts me out of my thoughts. Elio has probably gone to his room.

My heart rate picks up. A sudden urge flares up in me to go to him... to be there for him, like the way he has always been for me. Not out of guilt, or feeling obliged, no. I simply want to be there for him.

I wring my fingers. My right hand moves to my chest out of habit to fiddle with the pendant of the necklace only to remember it's not there.

I stall for a few agonizing minutes, pacing around the room, and killing time to not give the impression I was waiting for him.

After ten minutes, I can no longer stay in my room and march out. I knock so lightly I doubt he hears.

"Door's open," Elio's muffled voice washes me with not only relief but surprise too. How did he know it was me?

I open the door, peeking inside.

The room's shape is similar to the one I'm staying at, the only stark difference is the color scheme, with this one being a mixture of navy blue and dark grey. Elio's standing on the other side, in front of the window, his back facing me with his hands in his pockets.

I hesitate, my palms getting clammy. What was I thinking? What am I supposed to tell him?

My comforting skills are worse than a five-year-old's.

"You can come inside if you want... or stay there," he says, glancing at me over his shoulder.

I step inside and close the door. He turns to me, his blank face lacks the shine it had before Slava ruined everything.

My fingers fidget as I shuffle my feet. "I uh..." I start but words fail me. His brows pull together and suddenly I feel too much out of place.

Maybe he wants to be alone. I probably shouldn't have come. Is he irritated that I'm here? I study his face but don't catch a single emotion.

He definitely wants me to leave. This was a bad idea.

I inhale sharply, and gulp uncomfortably as I clasp my hands in front of myself. "I wanted to see if... uh..."

His eyes narrow and I look away. Now I'm being annoying, great.

My gaze sweeps across the place, and halts on the shelves in the far back of the room, covered with thick books. "You read!" I realize with surprise and a second too late I register saying it out loud.

My eyes widen with horror and I gasp, slapping my palm over my mouth as my cheeks burn with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to say that aloud."

At last, a smile cracks across his stoic features. "Is it such a shock that I'm not an illiterate barbarian?"

"No, I just never took you for a reader."

His brows raise as he nods, the ghost of the smile still visible.

I nibble my bottom lip, scanning the multiple picture frames on the shelves of the library and hanging on the wall, on the left side of the entrance door.

Most of the pictures have Elio in them, in various ages, but what grabs my attention is the other guy almost as frequently as Marco present in them.

Perhaps a close friend? I doubt they'd be relatives, with the guy's blue eyes and dark blond hair... but maybe they are? What if he's a cousin on his maternal side of the family?

I drag my focus away from my quick scan and meet Elio's intense eyes watching me curiously.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" I ask, my heart drumming in my chest as I hold his gaze.

"I told you, you don't need to worry about it."

I nod and gingerly take a small step in his direction. My fingers begin fidgeting again and I bite my bottom lip. "Pietro heard your mother mentioning..." my voice trails down as I struggle to find the right words. "Marrying Vasiliev's daughter..."

He nods. "I saw his shadow, so you guys sent him to eavesdrop."

"Marco did," I blurt out making him smile again and shake his head. "Are you planning on taking up the offer and going along with it?"

His eyes meet mine. My heart thunders in my chest. As the question leaves my mouth, mortifyingly I realize, I don't want him to.

In a heartbeat, he answers, "No."

Relief hits me like a plane. I should not be fucking relieved. I hide it with a casual nod. I'm so screwed. "Why not?" I tilt my head as I ask. "It'll end the fight you've wanted to avoid so badly."

"Do you want me to go along with it?"

"It's your life, I don't have a right to decide for it, this decision can change your life."

"Technically it affects yours too."

"Not as drastically as yours."

"I disagree."

Elio and I fall silent. None of these things were the actual reason why I came here, yet I can't find the courage to ask how he's doing. He's behaving a bit like the morning after the fire... I wish there was a way I could make him feel better.

"Is there anything else, Cerise?" he breaks the silence.

I'm about to say no and dash out but in a second of impulse, I cross the distance between us and wrap my arms around him in a tight hug, taking him, and me, by surprise. He's quick to bring his arms around me.

I close my eyes and inhale deeply. Letting his overpowering woody cologne scent invade my senses, wash away the stress, and replace it with a pleasant buzz, an odd calmness mixed with excitement.

"I didn't want to get you in trouble again. I'm sorry my presence constantly causes problems."

"Don't say that." Elio grabs my chin, making me meet his intense gaze. "I don't think like that and neither should you."

"But you just fought with your mom, I don't want to be the reason behind-."

"This was bound to happen. She would've seen or figured it out eventually, and she has to make peace with it. At the end of the day, I'm the boss, and I can do whatever I damn please."

As he gazes deeply into my eyes, a fresh surge of confidence blooms in me. I lay my palm on his cheek. "I know whatever she told you earlier hurt you, and I don't want you to get hurt because of me, Elio," I whisper.

For a moment his features turn blank as though with surprise, or maybe disbelieve, I can't tell, though the look on his face is so innocent it makes him look so pure... so perfect.

He blinks a few times, his lips parting, an emotion flickers, and turns to a blaze in his chestnut eyes, but before I get the chance to figure out what's going on, his lips capture mine.

Elio kisses me hard and desperately; his lips move with such passion it's as though he's beckoning my soul to his. My knees weaken and I grip his shirt, clinging to him for dear life, as I keep my fingers splayed on his cheek. He crushes me to himself.

The world around us evaporates. The butterflies, the fireworks, the electrifying of every fucking inch of my body and soul are all too strong and overwhelming. I give in to it, happily, willingly.

He breathlessly murmurs against my lips, "Sei la mia rovina, Cerise." [You're my undoing, Cerise] And locks me in another smoldering kiss.

Slowly he starts moving, pulling me along with himself step by step until he stops. Breaking the kiss, he sits on the bed and pulls me to his lap.

I straddle him, tangling my fingers in his soft curls as he kisses me again with the same intensity.

Ripples of need and desire spread through my veins like an uncontrolled blaze. His hard bulge presses up against my moist panties as he moves my skirt aside. Elio's calloused palms venture across the bare skin of my legs, from my claves to my thighs and up to my ass, tingling my skin along the way, electrifying my cells to crave his touch even more, on every inch of my body.

His mouth attacks my neck, sucking and kissing, making me shiver. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of my backside. I grind against his straining bulge and moan, earning a deep groan from him that clenches my core and makes me throb harder for him.

"I need you, Cerise," he pants gruffly between the frenzy of his wild hot open-mouthed kisses.

My toes curl and my heart skips a beat. His deep voice is so wild and careless, so raw, it sends another flurry of butterflies off in my stomach. The pulsing of my core matches the pounding of my heart.

He sucks and nips along my collarbone. Breathing heavily, I purr next to his ear, "Then let me return the favor." My parted lips graze the shell of his ear as I drag them down. He shudders with a grunt, pressing me closer to himself, sucking harder on my neck.

My fingers tighten on his shirt as I gain confidence, assured I can affect him probably just as strongly as he can affect me.

I trail lingering kisses along his strong jawline, down the length of his neck, unbuttoning his shirt. My greedy fingers feel every defined line and ridges of his abs and chest, I let my palms run freely from his neck to his waistband, as though memorizing every inch of him with touch.

I lightly suck the crook of his neck and a throaty groan escapes him. His hand latches to the back of my head as he crashes his lips on mine, kissing me hungrily, his tongue in my mouth, his teeth nipping my bottom lip every so often.

I busy my hands with unbuckling his belt and opening his trousers.

"Get your shirt off for me," he grunts.

I get to my feet, paying no heed to his protest, and hold his eyes as my mouth lifts in a smirk.

It feels surreal. A man like Elio is interested in me, attracted to me... it feels fucking fantastic!

Having his undivided attention tingles my skin, makes my heart beat faster with excitement.

Gazing into his darkened and hungry eyes, ever so slowly I start opening the buttons one by one. His eyes dart to my hands and back up to my face, as his swollen lips stay parted, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "You're driving me crazy, you know that," he gruffly says.

Good. I bite my bottom lip and his focus latches to my lips, his tongue darts out and wets his bottom lip.

I unbutton the last one and stand still, letting my fingers tug the neckline, but not take off the shirt.

He drinks in my form hungrily, obsessively, his pupils dilate even more as his gaze roves from my head to toe. "Take it off," he orders in a raspy voice.

I let the shirt slide off my shoulders, down my arm as it hits the floor. Deliberately, I stride to him, planting one palm on his shoulder, I kiss him and lay my other hand on his thigh, slowly getting down on my knees. His fingers coil behind my neck as his other hand fondles my breast.

When he pulls away from the kiss, my mind is swimming in a blissful daze of pleasure.

I tug at the waistband of his boxers brief. "Your turn."

With his features radiating lust, he does so in one swift motion. His enormous cock springs out, standing erect, with veins pulsing along its thick, girthy length. My breath hitches and my heart leaps in excitement as my core clenches with desire.

I can't help my smirk as an idea pops into my head. So far, it's been going well, all I can hope for is my lack of experience doesn't get in the way, and my ex's constant complaints claiming I don't know shit about sex were all wrong and a sick way for him to get away with cheating on me.

Elio's eyes are glued to me, watching me so intently as though there's nothing beyond me, it turns my insides warm and mushy. Clasping his upper thigh, close to his cock but definitely not close enough, I pull him down to me from his neck, kissing him softly and breaking away before he gets the chance to deepen it.

I trail soft kisses down his jawline, his abs, and the indentations of his V-line. His breath catches in his throat, his scrutiny burning into me. I brush my lips against his tip and he sucks in a sharp breath, his palms planting wide apart on the bed.

I drag my top lip down his hard shaft, noting his breathing getting ragged, before drawing my bottom lip up his cock. His head lolls back, and he curses in a strained voice. I nip his taut balls with my lips and twirl my tongue on them.

He groans, his thighs' muscles and abs clenching.

Watching him closely, from the bottom of his shaft I drag my tongue up to the tip as slowly as I can. Precum glints on his tip and satisfaction bubbles in me. It's confirmed, he's liking it. His hands fist the duvet as his dazed eyes meet mine.

Never breaking eye contact, I latch my lips on his tip and twirl my tongue over his precum. He chokes a gasp. "Fuck, tesoro, please."

I pull away and smile coyly. "Patience, Elio." I lightly wrap my fingers around the bottom of his erection before dragging my fingertips up and down in a featherlight touch. I gently kiss his tip.

A deep groan rumbles from his chest as his eyes roll back. "Tesoro, per favore."

My core throbs, as his voice tingles my senses. At last, I take him in my mouth and a soft moan slips from him. I twirl my tongue around his tip earning another soft groan.

Slowly I take him deeper into my mouth, never taking my eyes off him, the way his body reacts to every sucking and twirling of my tongue is as satisfying as kissing him.

It's oddly empowering, seeing him in such a vulnerable state... that I'm getting to see this side of him. That I am the one who's making him pant and groan.

Each time I take a little bit more into my mouth, before moving back up to his tip and going again until it hits the back of my throat. His hand finds my ponytail and grips it, as his breathing becomes shallow. I continue a rhythmic slow pace until he starts pumping into me.

Desire thrums in my veins, his quick thrusts make my core clench with need. I focus on matching his thrusts with sucking and swirling my tongue. His hand tightens on my hair, his breathing quickens, and his cock swells. His muscles tense. Between his grunts, he gasps, "Fuck, Cerise, I'm close... I-I can't..."

I quicken my movements, tightly holding onto his tensing thighs, as I suck him harder each time.

His body shudders. "Tesorino," he moans.

In a series of long gasping groans, he spasms and pulsates in my mouth as he reaches his peak and releases. I swallow him, the saltiness lingering as I suck him one last time, earning a deep guttural groan from him before freeing him from my mouth.

Still panting heavily, a lazy, lopsided smile spreads over his face as he pulls me to himself, on his lap and wraps his arms around me. He nuzzles my neck, peppering light kisses on my neck and cheek as I run my fingers through his hair.

"Sei un angelo, angelo mio, Cerise," [You are an angel, my angel, Cerise] he breathes out next to my ear. "Un tesoro e un angelo." [A treasure and an angel]

I look down at the skirt I'm still wearing and smile despite myself. Even though I know better than to believe a man's words right after he comes, his words—the ones I do understand—are... nice.

Fine, nice is an absurd understatement, but it'll have to make do for now. Because I know for a fact, Elio won't ever call me an angel under normal circumstances. Post-climax words are to be never trusted.

However, when he shifts me on his leg so I can comfortably sit on his lap, the adoration glinting in his eyes is lasting a bit longer than what I recall the post-climax joy should last.

"I'm not done with you, tesorino," he murmurs before capturing my lips in a heated kiss.

❈ ☯︎ ❈

My word count management sucks (if you haven't noticed lol), and I could not fit the entire smut scene I had in mind, in this chapter. So the next chapter is going to be more smut, a little talk here and there.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter, hit that star button if you did, and comment your thoughts on Cerise, and her emotions that are all over the place lol.

Thank you so much for reading ^.^

Stay safe, lots of love, happy reading ♡♡♡