“Philippa, go,” I ordered the maid out, not certain why she’d stayed. I hadn’t lowered my voice, so Lucia jerked around in alarm, rising to her feet. “What was his plan?”
“Who’s plan?”
“Your father’s. The day that Gianni was killed you glanced over at me looking guilty, so I know that Bonifacio must’ve shared his plan with you.”
She took a step back. “He didn’t.”
“Then, how did you know? It was written all over your face.”
I came forward, seizing her long dark hair and twisting it around my fist again. I felt a million things coursing through my system, and it was unnerving.
“All he said was that I shouldn’t worry. That he would take care of everything, and that he wouldn’t let anybody ever hurt me.”
“And you took that to mean that he’d executed Gianni?” I demanded.
“Yes. But I’ll never be certain. Before you… before youshothim, he gave me this look. A look that told me he knew something about your brother. But I don’t know any more than that.”
I’d seen their shared look. That’s how I’d known he was guilty. But there had to be more to this. More she wasn’t telling me. I spoke directly into her ear, with a voice of pure menace. “Do you remember what you told me that night?” Her blinking blue eyes told me that she didn’t. Either that, or she was a world-class actress at behaving like an innocent. “You took a blood pact with me, remember? You swore to always tell me the truth. But you didn’t tell me about your father. You didn’t warn me, and now I don’t believe you.”
“But I didn’t think he’d ever do something like that. He wasn’t a murderer.”
My laugh was harsh and humorless. “He’s a mafia crime lord. What makes you think he never killed anyone?” I knew that was a condition of any man in the mob. That they must make at least one personal kill, and Lorenzo Bonifacio had been mine.
“I’m not saying he didn’t do other… things. But I can’t imagine him slaughtering another human being.”
“You are remarkably naïve,” I told her, “so maybe it’s time I remedy that. Unbutton that blouse.”
“What?”
I tightened my grip on her hair, giving it another painful tug. “Don’t make me repeat myself,” I snarled at her, and her long delicate fingers went to her collarbone. Shaking, she did as I ordered, unfastening each button until she reached the part tucked into her skirt. She pulled out the bottom of the silky fabric, then finished the job. “Remove it.”
I released her hair, and slowly, she peeled the blouse from her torso, exposing her traditional white lace bra to my view. I reached around and tweaked both her nipples through the bra, making her gasp and moan. The sound of it made me instantly hard. Still compressing each nipple between my index finger and thumb, I spoke again. “Now the skirt.”
She unzipped a zipper on the side I hadn’t spotted, then shimmied out of it until the skirt had pooled at her feet. Her panties matched her bra. They were full briefs and as modest as a pair of panties could be outside of someone’s grandmothers. Still, I hadn’t seen this much of her, and the conservative nature of her underwear made me hotter than I could’ve imagined. She’d been praying and wore clothing not the least bit revealing, yet something about this made my cock so full I wondered if it would burst through my pants.
“Has anyone ever touched you like this besides me?” I asked her.
“No,” she panted out, her bright blue eyes narrowing.
“Has any man seen you this undressed since you’ve become a woman?”
“No.”
“So you’ve never slept with a man?”
“No,” she shook her head. “Never.”
“But you want to lay with me, don’t you,farfalla?” Instead of pinching her nipples, I rubbed over the tops of them with flattened palms.
“Yes,” she admitted, her eyes half-closed and her face flushed with desire. Pausing in my ministrations, I popped the front hinge of her bra.
“Take this off now.” Her face rosier than ever, she wiggled her shoulders and arms until the straps fell off, leaving her bra on the floor next to the rest of her clothing. “And the panties.”
Hooking the sides of her underwear around her thumbs, she did as I’d commanded her, pushing them down past her hips to fall at her feet. And now, my gaze feasted on all her exposed flesh. That flawless olive skin of hers went beyond her face to the rest of her, and I couldn’t look away. Her stomach was flat yet there was a surprising shapeliness to her figure, an alluring roundness to both her breasts and hips. Her nipples were high and brownish pink, all my attention had made them swollen and full, and even though I hadn’t kissed her, so were her lips. I knew what that meant, but I asked her anyway, just because I wanted to say the words out loud.
“Are you wet for me?”
“Wet?” Was she honestly that innocent that she didn’t know to what I referred? I supposed it was possible.
