Her beautiful smile is still in place and I have to subdue the urge to kiss her.
Another thing I’ve wanted to do for the millionth time.
As we walk to the table I watch Violetta in my peripheral and take in her expressions. They vary from extreme delight to captivated wonder. I’m not able to decide which I enjoy the most and continue to let the beauty of her engulf me. I soak in every flicker of her turquoise gaze, every second of her radiant smile, and every hitch of her breath.
Maybe I’m a selfish bastard for putting this celebration together, since I knew I’d enjoy this time with her. Or perhaps I truly am a masochist. Only someone like that would torture themselves by being with a woman close enough to have, but without the right or leeway to do so.
How can I truly enjoy this time while suffering intensely?
Because Violetta is worth everything and anything.
I assist her into the seat and then take my own across from her. Threading my fingers and resting them on the table’s surface, I ask, “What would you like to eat this evening?”
Her lips pull to the side, drawing up a vision of me claiming them, tasting them fully, and I blink to distort the fantasy.
“I don’t see a menu…” She slides her gaze over the linen tablecloth and then brings it back to mine. “How do I know what to order?”
The bemused expression on her lovely face has my mouth tilting up. “You can order whatever you want.”
“Anything?”
When I nod her lips form a pout and I covertly move my hand under the table and adjust my stiffened cock. Then she bites her bottom lip in an innocent guise of deep thinking and I nearly groan.
“But I don’t know what I like,” she says, her voice taking on a note of sorrow.
“I know.” When she arches a brow I continue. “You said you didn’t know who you were without your sister, so tonight is the beginning of your journey to self-discovery. You have the opportunity to try anything you wish and, by doing so, you’ll be able to discern your likes and dislikes. And that’ll be the start of you defining who Violetta is and what her preferences are. It may be simple, but I hope it will be effective.”
Her rose-colored lips tremble and her jeweled eyes are glassy from the tears that are gathering. I silently curse myself at her disappointment. If I spent more time learning about women instead of just fucking them, then maybe I would’ve made a better choice for her birthday. Rafael may try to fuck his way through America, but heknowswomen, beyond what happens in bed.
I’ll never admit to him that his strategy is better.
Wasbetter, if Carina has anything to say about his sexual exploits.
I blow out a harsh breath and right when I’m about to offer Violetta an apology, she speaks.
“You’re giving me a choice. Is that right?”
I slowly nod, unsure of this line of inquiry.
“Tristano…” My name falls from her lips like a raindrop falls from a rose petal, cleansing something in me that I thought beyond salvageable. “My entire life, all I ever wanted was the freedom to choose,” she whispers, dropping her gaze. She closes her eyes and squeezes them tightly. I can’t discern if she’s trying to stem her tears or if she’s in emotional pain…
I’m three seconds away from getting out of my chair and snatching her into my arms.
Violetta opens her eyes and a solitary tear ends up spilling to course down her cheek. She smiles at me and says, “Thank you. The gift of choice is the most precious to me. I don’t know how I’ll repay you, but when I’m able to I will, so you’ll know how grateful I really am.”
The heartfelt confession and appreciation are the last things I expected from her. Not because I thought she’d scorn my efforts or anything along those lines. It’s the fact that she’s aware of my wealth, power, and influence, and has asked for nothing they could give her. This mafia princess, the daughter of one of the most powerful men in the U.S., doesn’t want expensive things in the form of money, jewelry, or prestige.
To say I’m astounded is an understatement.
She is the first woman I’ve met who didn’t want any-and-everything I could buy or do for her. All Violetta wants is something that’s free, yet still within my ability to give.
I wave a hand in dismissal, my thoughts far from the nonchalance the gesture implies. “You don’t need to repay me for any reason because I wanted to do this for you. If you’d like to do something in return, you can tell me why you don’t celebrate your birthday.”
Her face falls and I could punch myself in the dick for it. Yet I sense there’s an important reason Violetta is avoiding the issue. Again, maybe I’m selfish for asking, but I want to know everything about her.
“My parents didn’t believe our birthdays were worth celebrating,” she says, her voice strained. “Carina and I used to do what we could for each other by sneaking a dessert from the kitchen and crafting various presents with our school supplies, but that was all. Then, as we grew older, we recognized that each passing year would bring us closer to a life neither of us wanted. At eighteen we would be given away in marriage to whoever suited my father’s agenda at the time. For him that would result in more power, but for us that would mean being someone’s wife, which translates to being little more than their slave and a complete loss of power.”
I know what the gala’s purpose has always been, but I’ve never thought of it from a woman’s perspective and what it would mean for them. I don’t approve of the annual bridal auction, yet I never did anything about it either. Hearing Violetta speak of it and experiencing her loathing and fear is enlightening.
