Page 69 of Sweet Prison
“Is it edible?” Massimo’s voice reaches me.
I look up and find him standing in the doorway. His tailor must have delivered his bespoke suits, because the one he’s wearing fits him like a glove.
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Good. That’s good.” He shrugs and heads over to the coffee machine. “The Council members will be arriving around seven this evening. We’ll hold the meeting in the dining room.”
So, we are obviously not going to discuss last night. Does he really believe we can just pretend like it never happened and go back to the way things were?
“Would you mind if I use the lounge area across the way to redo the dress I’m working on?” I ask in the most offhanded tone and pick up my plate to carry it to the dishwasher, which happens to be next to where the coffee machine is. “The fabric I prepared for it is completely saturated with my juices from you eating my pussy on top of it last night, and I decided I want to keep it there.”
I never imagined that a person could stay as utterly still as Massimo does when the words leave my mouth. His body becomes so rigid, it’s as if he’s carved out of stone. The only partof him that appears to still be alive is his eyes. They glare at me with fire. And hunger.
“We agreed; that subject is closed.”
I put the plate away and lean my back on the counter. “I don’t remember agreeing to anything.”
Suddenly, he is in front of me, his body hovering over mine as he grips the edge of the countertop on each side of me. His jaw is clenched, his nostrils are flaring madly. And his eyes, those are glued to my mouth. Is he thinking about how it felt to have my lips wrapped around his cock? Because I am. I remember every second of it. What it was like to have his whole body unravel under my touch. How amazing it felt to have him at my mercy. And then, to have him eat me out on a pile of silk, shattering me into pieces and putting me back together at the same time.
After an endless moment, Massimo reaches out and brushes my bottom lip with his thumb. “Some things are not meant to happen, angel. We are one of those things. And we both need to accept it.”
His hand falls from my face. He turns away while my heart withers inside my chest.
***
“I don’t recall you having issues with my decisions when the value of our investments doubled!” Massimo’s roaring voice carries beyond the closed dining room door to the little lounge area on the other side of the entrance hall.
Shaking my head, I pull my attention from the sewing pattern I’ve spread out on the floor. Someone inside that room shouts back, making me tense. It sounds like Brio, but it’s hardto tell with the doors shut. Everyone, however, has been so loud that I’m certain the entire household can hear them.
The meeting seemed to proceed just fine until Massimo announced he was getting out of the strip club business and selling off our venues to the New York Family Don. Salvatore Ajello has been a thorn in everyone’s side for years, especially after he began to send men to spy on us while Nera was running things as Massimo’s proxy. Even knowing that Massimo and the infamous don had some prior dealings, it was still a surprise when he arranged a meeting between Nera and Ajello a month ago. I wondered how he managed to pull that off.
“Oh, you sure about that?” Another round of Massimo’s snarling reaches me. His voice is even louder than before. “How about I set up a meeting for you with the Guadalajara Cartel, and you can informEl Jefepersonally that we’ll have to cut the next order by half since Tiziano’s girls are tying up a large portion of our cash? You can take Primo with you, I’m certain the two of you will have an amazing time in Mexico.”
Everyone starts yelling all at once, insults and threats flying in a cacophonous exchange. I can’t even decipher who’s saying what. The noise is deafening. It sounds like they are moments away from killing each other.Shit.
I swipe Massimo’s phone from where he left it on the side table and dash toward the dining room. In a sea of bad ideas, interrupting a Council meeting where the topic on the table is succession is probably the worst, but Massimo needs to snap out of his rampage or this conclave will head downhill, fast. I don’t even have a clue what I’ll say when I get inside, I just grab the knob and open the door.
As I step into the room, I’m faced with complete madness. The shouting continues without anyone realizing I’m here. Massimo is on his feet at the head of the long black table,his palms braced on the smooth wooden surface. He’s leaning forward and shouting at Brio at the top of his voice. Brio—seated to Massimo’s left—is sniveling his protests. His face is getting redder and redder with every word, and he’s waving his arms and shaking his head like a toddler in the middle of a tantrum.
Next to Brio, Tiziano is slamming his fist on the leather ledger splayed out before him while exchanging obscenities with Adriano across the table. Adriano is the Family’s biggest investor and could probably buy out half of the people gathered in this room. He’s always had an air of aristocracy about him, and could easily be the sort of man who sits on his ass and lets others work for him. Instead, Adriano has always been heavily involved, personally overseeing his logistics company’s transport of Cosa Nostra drugs across the country. I’ve never seen Adriano so much as raise his voice at anyone before. Now, however, his normally impeccable appearance is distorted by hand-messed hair and a tie that sits slightly askew.
Primo, who’s sitting on Brio’s left, is blabbering and pointing between Donatello and Patricio, two other investors in the Family businesses. Salvo is the only person who is silent. He’s relaxed back in his chair on Massimo’s right, quietly observing the unfolding catastrophe.
“What are you doing here, girl?” Brio’s angry voice unexpectedly carries over the yelling.
The shouts suddenly die down, and then everyone is staring at me.
“Um… I just—”
Massimo moves like a predator. In an instant, he’s fisting Brio’s shirtfront and tie and lifting the older man out of his seat, the twisted material jammed up under the capo’s chin. All Brio can do is claw at Massimo’s arm while he struggles to breathe.
“Don’t you fucking dare speak to her with that tone,” Massimo says through gritted teeth right into Brio’s shocked face. “Apologize.”
Brio’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, yet no sound escapes. Massimo tosses him back into his seat like a ragdoll.
“I’m sorry,” Brio mumbles as he tries to straighten out his tie.
“I’m sorry… what?”