by Emma Nichols
Patrina was waiting for her, wanting her, smiling at her in the way that she always did when getting what she wanted, when taking what she wanted. Determination warred with desire in every cell of Maria’s body, and the tension in her jaw reminded her of the ramifications of the decision she’d taken. Patrina wouldn’t take rejection well. She parted her lips and
inhaled deeply, alleviating the pressure. She stared across the room, her pulse racing. Was she already losing the battle she had come here to fight?
Closing her eyes, she committed to her intent. At the very least, she would make Patrina wait.
She averted her eyes and mused her fondness for the private room that had become their haven for the past six years that they had shared a bed. The gold ornate trim of the headboard, a feature of the classical Asnaghi design, handcrafted with elegance, upon which she had rested her head as they had talked about a future together all those years ago. The matching armchairs around the table that were identical in every minute detail, on which they had sat and dined together. Rare moments of bliss, an illusion shattered by life.
Maria valued precision. It was a demonstration of standards, an assurance in the craftsmanship that had created something distinctive, beautiful, and timeless. Her eyes narrowed as she cherished for the last time the antique Majolica plates characterized by their unique, vibrant shades of green and blue set in an octagonal mural on the wall, and the Sicilian Moorish head sculpture, an exotic centrepiece above the large marble fireplace. She would miss all of that. But she would not miss what this beauty had come to represent. Manipulation. Prostitution. Had she really been bought by Patrina? Had Patrina ever really loved her?
The light evening breeze from the half-open window carried in the faintest pine aroma from the garden below, and she breathed it in, hoping it would lessen her stress. She tilted her head from side to side and ran her fingers through her hair and down the back of her neck, but the tension wouldn’t subside. She released a short breath through her nose and turned again to face Patrina as she leaned back on her elbows, her chest rising and falling in a steady, erotic rhythm. Patrina’s soft breasts, erect nipples, and dark, hungry eyes held the beauty of a fruit ripe for the picking.
She swallowed and her tongue tingled, piqued by memories of Patrina’s soft skin against her lips, salty sweet, sensing the texture of her arousal when it came, as it always did. Maria tried to find that past pleasure in the present moment, but it alluded her. Patrina’s eyes weren’t bright, although she smiled as if they should be. And they had sparkled in the beginning. They had been the stars existing in a time and space millions of years before now. And Maria had felt the intensity of that look across many a crowded room in a thrill that ignited her core, consumed her in a fierce
flood of electric energy, and turned her inside out, stealing her from herself.
Maria had given herself completely, willingly…in the beginning.
She had been captivated by Patrina back then, seduced and rendered speechless in the secret moments of affection they had enjoyed together, away from Patrina’s husband, Don Stefano Amato. Maria was sure that she and Patrina had shared something special. It would be untrue and unnecessarily cruel to deny that fact. Maria had known intimacy without words, without the overt expressions of love that lovers often use to demonstrate their commitment, promising their souls in return for a lifetime together. So what? She didn’t need that. That had never really been the deal, nor would it ever be.
Maria ran her tongue over her lips as she appraised Patrina’s shapely hips and soft thighs awaiting her attention. She reflected on the wetness she would find between the silky folds, the treasures that would be revealed at the height of Patrina’s orgasm.
She refilled her glass and drank from it in an attempt to still her quivering lips that betrayed her arousal. She swilled the liqueur, her attention on the dark amber liquid as it settled in wave-like translucent form on the inside of the glass. Bringing the glass to her lips, she paused and inhaled before her focus narrowed to her ever-so-slightly trembling fingers around the glass. She moved with urgency and swallowed in haste, clinging to the glass for refuge. Her throat burned as the fiery drink coursed inside her. A shudder passed through her seconds later, making her heart race.
There was a time when she would have wanted to be sober making love, but not now, not here, and not with Patrina.
Maria blinked as the burning sensation reduced her to numbness, and she meticulously placed the glass on the edge of the table. Had she ever actually loved Patrina? She thought she had, in the beginning. She looked at Patrina and forced herself to smile. Patrina’s eyelids fluttered as she smiled alluringly. The attempt at seduction felt feeble and didn’t affect Maria. It didn’t resonate as it once had. Maybe it was the years that had passed or the impact of their mafia life. Maybe it was simply that they had become complacent with their relationship and grown apart. She had seen the end coming a long time ago, if she were honest. But there was a strong bond and secrets they shared that had stopped her doing back then what she must do now. It would always be complicated. She closed her eyes and made a promise to herself that she intended to keep. This would be their last time.
“Come to bed, Maria. I need you.”
The resonance of Patrina’s voice slipped through Maria’s defences.
Maria blinked, trembling, then squeezed her eyes closed again. She reached for the image of a time past, a time when the desire to arouse Patrina came easily. She recalled the soft warmth of Patrina’s sex against her fingertips, brought to mind the essence they had once shared. Keeping the image in mind, Maria slowly undid the buttons of her shirt and removed it. She folded it with precision and placed it on the table.
Patrina mumbled in appreciation. Maria closed her eyes, inhibiting the verbal response she didn’t want to encourage Patrina with. She shook her head, lifted her chin, and ran her fingers lightly through her hair, briefly massaging her temples. She unhooked her bra, folded one cup into the other, and placed it on top of her shirt. The days of her ripping the clothes off Patrina and herself, flaming desire nullifying her own need for order and precision, had long since passed. Maybe she should have ended the relationship sooner. Maybe she should never have got involved in the first place. God knew, they had been treading a very fine line. And she had prayed every day that Don Stefano never discovered the truth.
With a look that appeared absent of affection, Patrina raised her eyebrows. “You are a tease, tonight. Need encouragement?”
Maria watched as Patrina leaned her head back, parted her knees and unveiled her beauty, and slipped her finger into the glistening, silky juices. With calm consideration juxtaposed against her racing pulse, Maria removed her jeans, folded them carefully, and placed them on the table next to the shirt. She positioned her shoes under the table, turned towards the bed, and inhaled deeply. She closed her eyes momentarily to help the sensual image to linger and Patrina’s distinctive scent to come to her. Her skin prickled in anticipation. She opened her eyes and wetted her lips, reminded of Patrina’s taste. Maria approached the bed, shifting her attention from Patrina’s breasts heaving with her gasping breaths to the glistening wet centre between her legs. Patrina rocked and bucked her hips, bringing herself to just short of orgasm.
Maria knew that deft touch well. She moved to the bed and placed her hand over Patrina’s fingers, interlinking with them, revelling in her warmth and wetness. Desire surged through her every synapse, building urgency in her own sex, and sweeping away her doubts, pushing away her promise. She eased inside Patrina’s silky softness and bit her own lip to
restrain the inevitable groan of unadulterated pleasure. Maria took Patrina’s nipple into her mouth, teased and toyed it, and Patrina’s sex soaked the palm of her hand. Patrina groaned her pleasure into Maria’s ear as she moved with artful precision, slowly and teasingly at first.
Patrina clasped Maria’s head to her breast, then tried to pull her up to face her. “Kiss me, bedda,” she ga
sped.
No! Maria shook off Patrina’s hands and eased lower. Savouring the soft flesh at her lips, Maria moved down the length of Patrina’s body. She nuzzled into Patrina’s damp curly hair, lowered her mouth over Patrina’s swollen clit, and wrapped her arm around Patrina’s leg. Maria enveloped Patrina’s silky flesh in her mouth, and her tongue enticed and danced across her sensitive clit. Maria moaned at the wet heat at her fingertips as she entered Patrina. Patrina threw her head back and groaned in pleasure. Then her hips slowed, and her body became an exquisite sculpture.
Maria thrust deeper, sucked harder and faster, her body aching with desire that would never be satiated here. She sensed the moment, the rise, Patrina suspended before the fall. Maria held her there, as she always did, her buried fingers softly caressing, the tip of her tongue eliciting tiny shocks with every delicate touch. And then the moment passed, and the trembling eased.
Patrina sighed heavily and laughed, then she reached down to Maria to pull her upward. “Kiss me, bedda.”
Maria moved up the bed and looked at Patrina, as she had done hundreds of times before. Only this time she stopped with her head at Patrina’s breasts, keeping her distance from the kiss that would be too intimate and wrong. The sheen of moisture highlighted Patrina’s flushed cheeks, her pulse pounded visibly in her neck, and the fine lines shaped her face beautifully. Her tapering eyes begged to stay closed, immersed in the pleasure that flowed through her. None of it touched Maria the way it used to. There was no urge to cherish Patrina, to trace a fingertip lightly along her cheeks and jaw, or place soft kisses down the line of her neck and nestle against her chest. That feeling remained a distant memory that would fade with time.
Patrina opened her eyes, gazed hazily at Maria, and smiled. She cupped Maria’s cheek, and traced her thumb along the line of Maria’s lips.
Patrina rose from the bed and came towards her.
Maria froze. Gripped by a sense of darkness, her gut twisted and roiled against what Patrina might want that she wouldn’t give her. Maria pulled back. “I have to go.”
Patrina stared at her, lips pursed, the hint of a frown narrowing her eyes. “Why the rush, bedda?”
Maria slid from the bed, strode to the table, and started to dress. Bile rose in her throat, and she swallowed it down. She closed her eyes as she buttoned her shirt, irritated by the tremor in her hands that slowed down her progress. Tightness spread across her body, reaching her shoulders and chest, and she inhaled deeply to draw it away. She opened her eyes, turned towards the bed, and stared through the pain of truth. Her heart pounded with the certainty that what she was about to say would only incite Patrina’s worst traits.
Maria straightened her back, cleared her throat, and looked at Patrina with unwavering commitment. “I can’t do this anymore.”
Patrina laughed. She shifted up the bed and leaned casually against the headboard.
Maria had come to despise that wry smile, the way Patrina arrogantly cocked her head in an obvious look of utter contempt. Power.
History. Control. That was in the past now. Strange, that the woman she had once cared for, maybe loved more than any other, could derive pleasure from inflicting pain. She clenched her teeth and swallowed the fire that would propel her to fight back. Patrina had a knack of conveying emotional blackmail effortlessly through her natural demeanour. How long had it been this way? “I’m serious, Patrina. This.” She pointed between them. “Us. It’s over.”
Patrina tilted her head and considered Maria, is if looking down her nose at something of disgust that she needed to wipe from her shoe.
“You think it is this easy, ma bedda?”
Maria looked away, rolled her tongue over her teeth, and swallowed past the constriction in her throat. She turned towards the door and started to walk. As she turned the handle and opened the door, she took one last inhalation of Patrina’s unique combination of scents. She looked over her shoulder and saw the tightness behind Patrina’s smile and her eyes that looked at Maria without truly seeing. She met Patrina’s gaze and matched her in combative intensity. “That was the last time, Patrina.”
Patrina stiffened her jaw, and her lips all but disappeared. She released a dismissive huff, threw her head back on the pillow, and placed her hand between her legs.
Maria was unable to stop herself from watching as Patrina drew her fingers in circles around her clit.
“What is the saying, Maria? About keeping your enemies close?
You don’t want to make too many enemies so early in your leadership. Men are so...” She moaned and bit down on her lip.
Maria rolled her neck and looked away. It was so like Patrina, using seduction to leverage control. But she was done with that tactic.
“They all think they can be the boss. They get impatient, you know.”
Patrina moaned in pleasure, started to shudder under her own touch, and then her fingers stilled.
Maria clamped her jaw tightly and shook her head almost imperceptibly. She stepped into the hallway and closed the door softly. She leaned against the chamfered wood and sighed. The bright yellow walls and aroma of freshly laid carpet intensified the nausea clawing at her throat, and she swallowed back the urge to scream.
She pushed away from the door and strode towards the lift. She thumped the call button repeatedly, cursing beneath her breath. She looked back to the penthouse door that she would never open again. The ping announced the arrival of the lift, and before the doors had fully opened, she stepped inside and pressed her thumb firmly on the ground floor button.
The lift doors closed all too slowly, eventually hiding the vibrant colours of the penthouse foyer behind the sheet of silver-grey. She stared at her reflection in the highly polished metal. Nausea gave way to relief, and the stiffness in her shoulders eased slightly. I am free. The thought settled in a moment of lightness that quickly transformed into a low-level hum of something akin to anxiety. Patrina would not accept the relationship was over. But Maria would deal with the fallout of that later. She’d at least shattered the toxic chains that had linked them and severed the rope that had become a noose around her neck. She swayed on the balls of her feet as the lift started to descend then watched the numbers light up, floor by floor. She looked down at her shaking hands then back to the numbers, and as the lift dropped level by level, emptiness claimed her. What have I done? With Don Stefano serving multiple life-sentences, Patrina held the Amato’s power, and there was no doubting she could be dangerous. Will she put a hit on
me? No, she would back Patrina to fight. She closed her eyes, slowed her breathing, and rolled her shoulders. The descent slowed, and she opened her eyes, lifted her chin, and inspected her smile in the mirrored walls. Did she look older or was that an illusion? Tired and wasted. Her smile lacked something. Joy? Her passion for life had died the night her father passed, the same day she had decided to end the relationship with Patrina. She wetted her lips, took a deep breath, and smiled again. Better. The outside world must never discover what had existed within the walls of the penthouse suite. The lift arrived at the ground floor. She exited the partially opened doors and strode towards the glass-fronted hotel entrance. She needed time alone to think, to process. Patrina Amato knew how to win, and losing wasn’t an option for either of them. Like it or not, Maria would need to fight.
3.
Simone ambled across the cobbled square, the sun warm on her face, and her smile growing wider as she drew closer to her brother standing outside the cathedral. The dimples on his cheeks became more pronounced as his grin widened. He had always been a good-looking boy.
Now, he was a handsome young man. She took the tie from around her neck as she stepped up to him, lifted his shirt collar, and placed it around his neck.
“Mama will turn in her grave if you go to church without a tie on.”
He gave her a cheeky grin. “It looks funkier on you.”
She straightened his jacket and frowned at him. “The satchel, really, Roberto?”
“You sound like Mama.” He held out his hands in a placating gesture. “I bought pizza for after.”
“I hope you paid for it.”
“Stop sounding like Mama.” He grinned. “They give us pizza for free.”
She stared at him and smiled. She never doubted his honesty these days though he had learned the hard way. Lying about the brawls he had got into at school, lying about his attendance, and then being expelled as a result of his disruptive behaviour. He had challenged her tolerance in the months following the death of their parents, but she had been hurting too and hadn’t been of much help to him. Had she failed him? Now, working delivering pizza, he seemed more settled. He had grown up fast. She kissed his cheek. “Right, shall we go in?”
He turned towards the doors of the cathedral and held out his arm.
“This sure is a strange birthday present.”
She linked arms with him and tugged him to her. “I just want to say hi to them on my birthday, that’s all.”
He shrugged. “I hate churches.”
This particular visit to the cathedral to pay her respects was momentous. Today, she crossed a threshold from twenty-nine to thirty. It felt like a final goodbye, a cord cut. She couldn’t explain it, and Roberto would just shrug if she tried. He had never needed rituals to get over his
grief, though Simone had questioned whether he might have rebelled less if he’d had a different outlet for his anger. Today was a stepping stone to a new future, though she had no idea what that looked future looked like. She worked for people she didn’t like and had no one to go home to at night, except Roberto, of course. But that was different and with his working hours, they could be like ships passing in the night. Anyway, he had his own life and more success with women than she had. Was she deluding herself? Patrina’s behaviour at work didn’t feel like she was on a new and exciting venture. In fact, Patrina had been more challenging than normal and for no explicable reason. She took a deep breath. She didn’t want to think about Patrina Amato or Café Tassimo. She wanted a nice birthday lunch with her brother. She patted him on the chest and straightened his jacket at the front.