Page 15 of Snowed in with the Mafia
As if I have a playlist on repeat for freaking out, I start my mental meltdown from the top all over again. I pace the length of the room Eileen had taken me to before, up and down, until I’m sure I’ll kindle a fire with the fibers of the thick carpet and set myself on fire.
I’m certainly hot enough already and whip my sweater off, leaving me in my bra. Well, I can’t pace half-dressed, so I put it back on again.
Their words beat down on me. They knew everything before I even said a single word. Who I really am, how my uncle was going to trick them into getting me pregnant, and then flaunting the union between our families so he could revive the Passero name.
I tell myself to calm down. I have to think rationally. This worked out even better than I expected. I have more power over my uncle now than that two hundred thousand dollars would have ever given me. He would have found a way to take the money and still keep the farm. I was a fool to think otherwise.
But I have to get back to Gianna. I can see the cracks in the messages I found on my phone. She’s worried and stressed and even said maybe it was time we just left the farm. I knew how much that took out of her to say. I know she died a little on the inside for writing those words.
In order to get back to her and deal with my uncle, I have to get out of this cabin, and they have to come with me. To get out of this cabin, I have to give them my virginity. Which is how this whole thing started in the first place.
I take a deep breath and center myself. If I think about this clinically, I’ll get through it. In a few hours, by early morning at least, we’ll be on our way to the farm to get it back from my uncle once and for all.
I glance at the white garment on the bed. That’s what I’ll have to wear. Right. One hour. I can take a shower and be ready in thirty minutes, and we can get this over with sooner.
I make the mistake of looking at myself in the mirror. Why would they ever want to marry me? But hey, that’s a good thing. That’s good luck since they’re the only way I’m going to get the farm back.
But suddenly, I feel incredibly plain. Well, too late for that. This is what I have to work with. I step into the bathroom, ready for my quick shower.
But then… my nails may be cut so short they’re positively blunt. I hate dirt getting under them, and on the farm, that’s a given. And my hair hasn’t been cut in forever and just hangs down my back in one thick, dark layer.
Pampering beauty treatments are not something in my realm, but one look at the luxury bathroom itself and the array of beauty products laid out for me to use, and some inner girly girl comes out of me big time. I have time to kill anyway, so I draw a bubble bath while I take a shower, exfoliate with the most delicious-scented wash scrub, wash my hair, and condition it, then step into the bath to soak up even more. It smells like a rose garden in here, and the scent seems to be coming off my skin.
I sigh as I lower myself into the water. This is pure bliss. But then I close my eyes, and my body immediately remembers their touch. My nipples swell and ache; my pussy throbs. I whip myself out of the bath so quickly that I have to clean up the water as I spill in my haste. I use the handheld shower to rinse my hair and roughly blow-dry my tresses.
I smother my skin in a rich moisturizer that leaves me gleaming from head to foot, and then I use some perfume. I may not be completely clued up on luxury brands, but these are products no one asks what the price is before they buy them.
Without any panties or a bra, I slip into the white garment, the fabric so soft and fine it flows over me and does nothing to conceal my nakedness.
My strategy is to just lie there and let them do their thing.
Before my nerves take over and I decide to brave the snowstorm outside barefoot, dressed like this, instead of facing the three men waiting to deflower me, I step from the room and, falsely confident, enter the ceremony room.
As if I’m seeing them for the first time, I gasp at the sight of them. They’re no longer wearing their designer, custom-made suits. Now, freshly showered, their hair still damp, they’re wearing black silk drawstring pants with a gold falcon on their left thighs.
The rest of their bodies are bare, and I melt into a puddle as my gaze slides over the utter magnificence of their bodies. Layers and layers—four to be exact, because I counted them—of brick-like abs, covered in skin that gleams with health and strength and tattoos of falcons spread over their sculpted chests.
Their wide shoulders and thick biceps make my knees weak. I can’t bear to look at them anymore, but when I turn my gaze down, it glides over the substantial bulges in their pants, and I visibly start trembling.
I wish they didn’t look like that. I wish they didn’t make me want to be prettier and smarter. No, what? I don’t care. Once they help me with my uncle, they can easily divorce me—buyer’s remorse, if you will—and I won’t shed a tear. I’ll just go home and enjoy my life.
I’m brave. I can do this.
But then the scent of their cologne—dark, expensive, enticing—pulls me in, and I’m lost all over again.
I stand there, pressing my legs together, trying to quell the dampness spreading onto my thighs.
Chapter Fourteen
Alessia
I lose my breath when they come toward me. Gosh, I need to stop quivering.
But my body has other ideas and just about goes into sensation lockdown when Nico cups my cheek.
“La nostra sposa,” he says before he lowers his mouth to mine and captures my lips in a kiss that displaces every part of me. I’ve never been kissed before. I don’t even know what to do except surrender myself to him.
He possesses me with such a demanding intensity that I lose my footing and sway against his hot, hard body, the strength of his cock imprinting on me.
