Gia

Before I left the office, I slipped into a tight black dress that hugged my curves and stopped a few inches above the knees. Decked out in my finest jewels and a splash of makeup—which was rare for me—I felt like a different person. For a second, I reminded myself of my mother, except she had hair like silk, and I had my father’s curls.

Angelo drove us to the restaurant with his hand on my thigh, flashing a smile causing my heart to skip a few beats. He wore a charcoal-gray suit and white shirt with no tie. Like every man in his family, he wore custom suits, tailored to fit him perfectly.

He whipped through the city, determined to get us to Dolce before the peak of rush hour. Angelo held the wheel with one hand and tapped his fingers on my inner thigh—a single act that had me dripping wet for him. We spoke a few words in the fifteen minutes it took for him to navigate the city, the silence welcome after the day I’d had. I was tired from the mind-blowing sex on my desk. I was exhausted from thinking about the event we had to attend together that weekend.

He drove like an animal. My body tensed, mostly because I wanted him to handle me the way he took each curve.

“You’re quiet,” Angelo said, parking at the valet stand in front of a crowded restaurant. “What’s going on inside that pretty little head of yours? Did I fuck you so hard you forgot how to speak?”

I rolled my eyes at him and laughed. “I’m just taking it all in.” I shrugged against the leather seat, my eyes trained on the brightly lit restaurant. “I have a lot to deal with… you know, with my dad, the new acquisition with your family, and of course, the dinner this weekend. I’m just glad school is almost over.”

A short man wearing a red-and-black valet jacket opened my door before Angelo could respond. “Miss Carlini, welcome to Dolce.”

Surprised he knew my name, I raised my eyebrow at Angelo. He winked, a wide grin stretching across his lips. Then, he slid out of the driver’s seat.

“Thank you,” I said as the man helped me out of the sports car.

Angelo patted him on the shoulder and dropped the keys along with a hundred-dollar bill into his palm. “Thanks, Jimmy.” Then he guided me toward the restaurant.

Another man, middle-aged with short, dark hair, held open a massive oak door for us, greeting Angelo and me by name. We stepped inside, and the scents of garlic and herbs assaulted my senses. It smelled so amazing I could practically taste it on my tongue.

The space was deceptively large with a second floor that overlooked an open kitchen you could see into from every angle. The walls were brick, and the floor was a dark shade of bamboo. In the far corner, I noticed a wine bar made of casks, set up for tastings. The place was simple yet elegant.

Behind the host desk, a young woman with long dark hair waved at Angelo. “Mr. Morelli, your table is ready. Please follow me.”

We never waited anywhere we went. Red carpets were rolled out when you were with a Morelli. Either out of fear or loyalty, it didn’t matter. It was nice to be on top. I loved the special treatment I received when I was with Angelo. I felt like a queen, and he always made sure of it.

She escorted us through the dining area to a private room in the back, checking out Angelo over her shoulder as she made polite conversation. I snorted at her eye-fucking of my man. Angelo would never leave me for another woman. He never even looked at other women. But her not-so-casual perusal of my man didn’t make me want to punch her in the face any less.

French doors opened to an impressive space with leather couches built into the walls. On our right was a bar and entrance to the kitchen. We slid into an oversize semicircular booth lit by candlelight and centered beneath a massive crystal chandelier.

The hostess unfolded a cloth napkin on my lap and poured us each a glass of wine before exiting.

I touched his thigh, taking a sip of what tasted like pinot grigio. “Let’s get drunk and have sex for the rest of the night. I’ve changed my mind about the bar.”

He laughed. “As you wish.”

I tapped his wine glass with mine and took another sip. “Did your dad tell you about the dinner we have to attend this weekend? My dad was super pissed.”

Angelo gently stroked my shoulder with his fingers. “Yep. I was told to buy a tux for me and a dress for you.”

I cocked an eyebrow at him. “You were told?”

“By my dad.”

“Did you buy me a dress?”

“Nope.” He kissed me on the cheek. “I thought you’d want to come with me. I know how picky you are when it comes to clothes.”

I glanced over at him and smiled. “You’re taking me shopping? That alone makes me want to go to this stuffy fundraiser.”

“At least that makes one of us who wants to go. My dad told my brothers and me we were going. There was no discussion.”

“Do you know why we have to go? Something weird happened at the office the other day.”

Before Angelo had time to respond, his mother stepped through the double doors, a wide grin on her face.

“Cucciolo,” she said. I loved Mrs. Morelli’s nickname for Angelo. He had sad puppy dog eyes, which made it the perfect name to call him. Glowing with genuine excitement, she leaned over and kissed him on his left and then right cheek.

“Hey, Ma.” He released her from his grip and slid his hand across the back of my neck.

I greeted his mother the same way as Angelo had, with a kiss on each cheek.

“You eating with us, Ma?” Angelo patted the open space next to him.

She shook her head. “No, I have to get back to the kitchen.”

“Nothing doing,” Angelo said to her. “You work too hard. Sit and eat with us.”

“I wish I could, baby. We’re shorthanded tonight. Two of our line chefs are out with the flu. One of the vendors ran out of tomatoes, so I had to send someone to the market to buy more.”

“We can help you.” Angelo attempted to slide off the bench, and Ma pushed her hand out to stop him.

“It’s all taken care of. You two sit and eat. Enjoy your dinner. You don’t get to spend enough time together.”

“I don’t get to spend enough time with you either, Ma.” He touched my forearm and then his mother’s. “I have the two most important women in my life right here. It’s not often I get to see you together. Come. Sit. Have some wine with us.”

Ma tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear and straightened a red blouse that hung loosely from her petite frame. “I ate an hour ago. How about I have dessert with you?”

Angelo clutched my hand tighter, holding it under the table on his thigh. The warmth from his body rushed through mine. “Sounds good, Ma. Don’t work too hard.”

His mother opened the door, and then, she disappeared into the crowded restaurant.

“I wish she would knock this off,” Angelo growled. “I hate that she chooses to spend all her time slaving over a stove.”

“Maybe she likes to cook.”

“Ma loves to cook. But she could cook at home, where she’s not killing herself to serve a bunch of strangers.”

“Have you ever thought maybe she does it to get out of the house?”

“You mean to get away from my dad?” I nodded, and he continued, “I guess I never thought of it that way. I’d want to get the fuck away from him too if I were her. He doesn’t deserve my mother.”

“She’s incredible.”

“You know he sees this whore on the side. He doesn’t even try to hide it either. It makes me fucking sick. You don’t have a woman like Ma at home and go off and fuck young girls. I’d never do that to you, G. I want you to know that. I’d never embarrass you like my old man does to Ma.”

Unlike most of the men he knew, Angelo was the faithful kind. “I know you wouldn’t. Because I’d cut your fucking dick off so you could never do it again.”

He shook his head, laughing. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?”

“I’d have to be to date you,” I countered.

“Don’t be a smart ass, woman.” He hooked his arm around me and pulled me into his chest, cradling me. Angelo smelled of his aftershave, my favorite scent in the entire world.

“I’m joking.” I brushed my lips against his and tasted wine. He smelled so good I stuck my tongue out to taste him, and he parted his lips for me.

We kissed for a few seconds, soft and sensual for once. Angelo made love to my mouth. He was never this gentle with me but always kind. When we were younger, he took everything slowly. But as we grew older, his touch turned rough and passionate, his kisses forceful and full of pure hunger. He kissed me as if I was his last breath, and he wanted to steal it back.

Our lips separated when a man cleared his throat at the edge of our table. We hadn’t even heard him approach. The head chef, a man who spoke mostly Italian, delivered our meals. We started with focaccia topped with pomodoro sauce, followed by pasta e fagioli soup, Caesar salad, and gnocchi in a creamy Gorgonzola sauce.

“I need to ask you something about this charity dinner.”

Angelo wiped his mouth with the napkin on his lap. “What do you want to know?”

“Why did Paulie threaten my dad over it?”

He narrowed his eyes at me, his jaw clenched in anger. “Paulie threatened him?”

“Well, not exactly. He implied that your dad would not be happy unless my dad made room for all of you at his table. My mom is pissed off. She wanted to invite the women she plays tennis with and their husbands.”

“Your mom has never liked me,” he shot back.

“That’s because of your dad. She hates him for roping my dad into his business.”

“I hate to break it to you, babe, but your father was all-in when it came to helping out mine. How do you think your dad got the money to start Carlini Construction? The fundraiser is a business transaction, nothing more. Don’t read into it too much. Your dad is just as dirty as we are, only he looks clean on the outside.”

I grabbed his collar and pulled him to me. “So do you in your thousand dollar suits.”

“There’s not a clean thing about me, G. Everything I do is dirty.”

“This conversation about getting dirty and clean is turning me on,” I admitted.

“What doesn’t turn you on?” Angelo moved his hand up the inseam of my thigh and pushed my panties to the side. “I could kill someone while I fuck you, and you would scream like a fucking porn star for me.” He slammed two fingers into me with so much force he tore a moan right from my lips. “You’re always so fucking wet for me.” Angelo withdrew his fingers long enough to add a third and thrust them into me, filling me completely.

“Angelo,” I moaned, gripping the edge of the table. “What if someone walks in here?”

“I’ll make it fast.” He dipped his head down to take my ear between his teeth and sucked on it. “Rub your clit for me. I want to watch you.”

I did as he asked, almost feeling ashamed of what we were doing in his family’s restaurant. But neither of us cared. Angelo had his right arm across the back of the booth and his left hand between my legs when he sunk his teeth into my neck, nibbling at my flesh.

I had to cover my mouth with my free hand to keep from screaming. Each time his teeth scraped my skin, Angelo did the same with his fingers to the inner walls of my pussy. My entire body hurt, but it was the good kind of pain that sent a ripple of pleasure down my body.

“That’s it, G,” he whispered against the shell of my ear. “Strangle my fingers with your pussy. C’mon, come for me.”

“Angelo,” I moaned, and this time, he covered my mouth with his.

An orgasm rocked through me like a hurricane, its violent force causing my entire body to tremble. Angelo kept his lips on mine, invading my mouth with his tongue until I hit the full peak of my climax.

“Damn, babe,” he spoke against my lips. “If you milk my cock like you did my fingers, I won’t be able to stop fucking you until morning.”

“Promise?” I could hardly get out the words I was so out of breath.

He nodded, his forehead brushing against mine.

“Good. I expect you to keep it.”

And he did. All. Night. Long.