Chloe doesn’t even ask to see my phone she just snatches it from my fingers and then I hear her giggle next to me.
“I think I like him, Lenora. I think I like him a lot.”
“Because of money?” I ask, feeling suddenly ashamed.
I feel like a gold-digger. I knew Arlo wasn’t poor when I met him. I can spot an expensive custom suit and leather Italian shoes from a mile away, but this is different. This is accepting his money and spending it without regard.
I’m not that person.
I never have been.
I’ve worked for everything my entire life. The only thing that was ever given to me was the startup for my business. It was up to me to make it thrive.
“Don’t take it so seriously. Remember, this is his place too, don’t you want him to be comfortable in his own space?”
The driver pulls up to our destination and we exit onto the sidewalk. I don’t go inside immediately. Instead, I stand at the front doors and I just stare.
“You’re coming inside and you’re going to spend that man’s money because he wants you to be happy,” Chloe snaps.
Her hand wraps around my forearm and I glance down at her creamy tawny skin next to my peachy complexion. I smile. Lifting my gaze to hers, my smile widens.
“How did I end up with the best, best friend in the world?” I ask.
She grins, shaking her head once. “You’re just a lucky bitch,” she winks.
Together, hand-in-hand, my best friend walks with me inside of New York Design Center. Together, we spend every single penny of Arlo’s cash. I feel extremely guilty, the entire time, but she talks me down off of the ledge with each purchase.
ARLO
I smirk down at my phone for what feels like the hundredth time today. Lenora has sent me a picture of each item she’s purchased, along with the accompanying price tag. She really doesn’t want to spend the money that I’ve given her, and it’s endearing. She’s so fucking cute, unlike the woman at my side.
“Are you listening?” Wynter snaps.
Lifting my gaze from my phone, I arch a brow toward her and tilt my head to the side. “These are colorless, two carats apiece, but it’s not enough. They look ridiculously small on my ears.”
Wynter motions to the large diamond solitaire earrings that adorn her lobes. They don’t look ridiculously small at all, the actual diamonds are flawless and breathtaking. They couldn’t look small on anyone, they’re beautiful. I decide that Lenora needs them. They’re a piece that a woman wears, not necessarily one that wears a woman.
“I need bigger.” She pouts. “This is our wedding day. Don’t you want me to look my absolute best?” she purrs.
I grimace at her words. Wedding day. The entire fucking thing makes me feel sick to my stomach. Lifting my chin toward an ostentatious pair of pear-shaped drop diamond earrings, I flick my fingers out to them.
“What about those?” I ask.
The jeweler takes the earrings out of his small case and slides them across the counter toward us.
“These are a double halo, pear-shaped drop chandelier earrings with a total carat weight of ten carats.”
Wynter eyes them, and I can tell by the way her nostrils flare that she wants them, badly.
“Do you have a complementary bracelet?” I ask.
She turns her head to look at me in surprise. “Arlo.”
I shrug. “Set her up with a necklace as well.”
She blinks, and I think for the first time ever, she’s speechless. Actually, fucking speechless. For a moment that guilt fills me up again. Maybe I should try more with her, be better to her. Maybe I should end things with Lenora and focus on my wife?
“I need the necklace to be at least twenty-five carats and the bracelet the same,” Wynter snaps.
The moment of guilt, of wondering if I should break things off with the sweetest woman I’ve ever met, disappears. Wynter practically hisses with greed as she points to things, dismisses pieces for not being up to her standard and at one point even tells the dealer that the necklace she actually liked just wasn’t expensive enough.
When she’s finished and has spent over a million dollars of my money, I ask her to wait in the car while I finish the transactions. She lifts her nose in the air and without skipping a beat, walks that way all the way to my car.
I keep my gaze on her as she sinks down into my passenger seat and closes the door behind her. Unfortunately, nobody stabs her or shoots her on her way. Turning back to the dealer, I give him a small smile.
“Please add the colorless stud diamonds to the bill. Wrap those separately. I’ll be taking them with me today. The rest please have delivered to Wynter’s current residence.”
He dips his chin, but I don’t miss the way his lips twitch when I make it obvious that I’ve just purchased earrings for not only my fiancée, but my mistress too. It takes him only a few moments to wrap the earrings, then slide the credit card receipt toward me.
I sign the document quickly, lifting my chin as I slip the earrings in the inner pocket of my jacket and slowly rise to my feet.
“It was a pleasure doing business with you Mr. Zanetti,” he says, holding out his hand for me to shake.
I grip his fingers, my eyes focused directly on his and I shake his hand. He never flinches, he never shows an ounce of anything on his face, nothing, not even a twitch to his lips. The man is fucking solid. He should be working for us, I think to myself as I release his hold and walk out of his small shop.
Wynter is waiting for me, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes narrowed at the window in front of her. With a heavy sigh, I sink down in the driver’s seat and start the engine.
“What?” I exhale as I pull out into traffic and begin to drive her home.
“That took too long,” she snaps. “I have a spa appointment this afternoon and you’ve ruined everything,” she hisses.
I grip the steering wheel tightly, only stopping when I hear it groan under my grasp.
“You know, if we’re going to be happy together, you’re going to need to respect my time,” she barks.
Unable to stop myself, I snort. There is no fucking way that I could be happy with her. Not in my fucking lifetime, or hers.
“Stop trying to threaten me with promises of happiness, Wynter. You and I both know that it won’t ever happen. Let it the fuck go. You’re selfish. I bought the diamonds you demanded and didn’t even balk at the price. I expect you to do whatever I want you to, as a thank you, for that shit.”
“What do you want?” she asks, her voice changing into something that I can’t quite read.
Guiding the car toward the Upper East Side where her current apartment is located, I frown, wondering if this is some kind of trick of hers.
Glancing to the passenger seat, I blink, then look straight ahead. She has her skirt hiked all the way up to her waist, and she’s not wearing panties. Taking my hand, she guides it toward her pussy and I frown when I discover that she’s fucking dry.
“You want pussy?” she purrs.
Snatching my hand from hers, I grasp the steering wheel again. The vehicle fills with anger. Her anger. She’s never been rejected like that and it doesn’t surprise me. Wynter McClain always gets what she wants.
“You know your mother schooled me on how to be a good mafia wife,” she murmurs.
Gone is the ice queen that has been present since day one. Now, she’s working me, trying to, at least. Her hands reach for my belt, she undoes it, then unbuttons and unzips my slacks. I don’t stop her. My brain screams at me to tell her no. It feels so fucking wrong when it’s Lenora that I crave.
My dick is in her hand, and my fingers grip the steering wheel again, but this time it’s not in anger or frustration. Her grasp is firm as she strokes me. Then, without warning, her hot tongue swirls my head.
Reaching one hand down, I twist my fingers in her hair at the nape of her neck and I force her to take all of me. Wrenching her back up my length, I flick my eye
s down and grin at the sight of her narrowed gaze.
“You’re gonna suck my dick, Wynter, you’re gonna do it the way I want. Just because my dick’s in your mouth doesn’t mean that you have the upper hand, puttana,” I inform.
She growls but doesn’t protest the way that I expect. Instead, her mouth opens, and she takes me down her throat again. With my tight grasp in her hair, I lift and lower her head, jacking my cock at the speed that I want.
She sucks her cheeks in, giving a good show as she moans around my dick. I should give her a break, and an A for fucking effort, but this shit could take all day long to get me off. It’s not that she’s bad, it’s just that she’s not Lenora.
Once we’re closer to her place, I pull off down a side street so that I can pull over. She moans again as I continue to move her mouth up and down along my hard cock. When the car is stopped and in park, I lift my hips to push farther down her throat.
She struggles against my hold, so I let her up. “Jesus, what the fuck? Are you trying to kill me?” she asks, her eyes wide.
I stay expressionless. My eyes glued to hers. “That would be too easy, Wynter. Kill you, that is. You want to be a good wife, get over here and finish what you started.”
“You’re a dick, did you know that?” she growls.
Leaning forward, I hold her gaze with mine, never breaking it. “You’re a bitch. We’re both stuck in this situation. Better get the fuck used to it.”
She opens her mouth, but before she can speak, I force her head down again. She takes me. Closing my eyes, I imagine the mediocre blowjob is from Lenora. When I picture her green eyes looking up at me through her lashes, only then do I finally come.
Holding Wynter’s face against me, I let my cum slide down her throat, forcing her to take it all. Smirking, I listen to her gurgling sounds as she attempts to swallow every drop, like a good fucking wife. Tugging her off, I continue to hold her hair in my grip, looking into those dead fucking eyes of hers.
“Fuck me,” she demands.
“You like being treated like the whore that you are, don’t you?” I ask.
She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip with a grin. My body jerks, I release her hair and push her away from me. The simple move, it reminds me of Lenora.
Fuck.
I fucking fucked up.
“Put your dress down, I’m taking you home,” I announce as I right my own pants.
“What about me? Don’t I get to come?” she whines.
I shake my head, shifting my car into drive and pulling out onto the street again. “You come when I want you to, and not before.”
“God, you’re really a bastard, aren’t you?” she asks, her arms crossed over her chest again.
When I’m in front of her place, I look over to her. She’s attempting to look hurt, but beneath her fake expression, I see something more. Something sinister lurks behind her eyes and it almost scares me.
“Who were you texting the entire time we were together today?” she asks, her voice flat and emotionless.
Lenora’s face flashes in my mind, but I push it away. Lifting my eyebrow toward my fiancée, I smirk. “It’s not your business and you are never to question me like this again.”
She narrows her eyes, her lip curling in anger. “Your mother told me that some men keep whores. That I’m not allowed to say anything about that, either. I assume that’s what you have then? A whore?”
Reaching out, I wrap my hand around the front of her throat and squeeze. I enjoy the way she gasps for air before her fingers wrap around my wrist and forearm and she attempts to pry me away from her. I hold fast, keeping my gaze focused on her dead, cruel, fucking eyes.
“You never question me again, not about a fucking thing, Wynter. Do I make myself perfectly fucking clear?” I ask.
Releasing her neck, I keep my hold on her extremely loose as I wait for her to answer me. She coughs a couple of times, her gaze never leaving my own. Then she nods.
“Crystal clear, Arlo. You have made yourself, crystal clear.”
She opens the car door and without a glance back to me, calm as a goddamn cucumber, I watch her walk away from me. As soon as she reaches her building’s door, she glances back at me from over her shoulder. She lifts her hand and waves her fingers in my direction with a smirk playing on her lips.
“Fuck,” I hiss.
Chapter Twelve
ARLO
Leaving Wynter’s apartment, I make my way toward the East Village, toward Lenora. The earrings in my pocket are burning a hole and I can’t wait to see her, to watch her put them on, then to fuck her in nothing but my diamonds.
Just when I’m approaching her neighborhood, my phone rings. Pushing accept on my car’s screen, I answer the call. I have no doubt that I sound as pissed off as I feel that I’m being bothered when I’m finally on my way to do something that I’m looking forward to.
“We have a problem,” Gavino’s voice announces through my car’s speakers.
“Yeah?”
He clears his throat. “We have a shipment dropping in a couple of hours and I need you there to accept it, then I need you to transport it to its destination.”
“Why me?” I ask, confused as fucking hell.
When Gavino first took his position as the Boss of the Zanetti famiglia, he was hands on, all of the time. Now that it’s been a while, he’s slowly relinquishing duties to men that he knows he can trust. I am in charge of the casino along with Mia and the girls at the casino if need be.
Massimo collects debts, we’re still down a family messenger, along with head of security since Gavino killed Franco and shipped Benicio off to take over the Ricci family.
I am not the man in charge of shipment transfers, though. I never have been and I have no desire to be. No matter the shipment. Glancing at the date, I realize that it can’t be from the Savage Beasts, that it must be something else, which can only mean, it’s the first shipment of women from Ireland.
“Mia is waiting at a house, along with the rest of the staff. You don’t have to do anything other than be the one in charge. Direct the men on what to do and make sure the women are loaded and delivered to Mia. It’s simple.”
I clear my throat, cursing under my breath. I spent all goddamn day with that cunt. Now, instead of going back home to the woman I desire, I have to be in charge of unloading and loading whores up before shipping them to their new madam.
What. The. Fuck?
“Vino,” I warn.
“Consider it a goddamn promotion,” he states. Then I hear him sigh. “I trust you, Arlo. Fuck, aside from Paul, you’re the only one that I do truly trust around me. This deal needs to run smoothly. There is a lot riding on this. I need you there at least for this first time. The cops have been paid off, along with the pilots, but you know how quickly that shit can go south.”
“I know,” I agree.
“There’re no drugs on this, just the women. We’ll be sending our cargo out in a few days, and I’m going to oversee that shit, but this I am delegating to you, cugino.”
Of course, he throws the cousin term out there. I let out a heavy sigh. “I’m giving up an evening with Lenora for this,” I announce.
“Understood.” He chuckles not giving much of a fuck.
“I’m giving up an evening with Lenora, after spending the entire goddamn day with Wynter,” I clarify.
There’s a moment of silence, then I hear his exhale. “Understood, but Arlo?” I wait, knowing that I’m not going to like what he has to say next. “Lenora deserves more. She’s a good girl.”
“So is Luciana,” I murmur.
The line is quiet and I think he’s hung up on me, but then he speaks. “I know that Luciana deserves more. The difference is, I’m not in love with another woman. She has all of me, Arlo. Lenora doesn’t even have half of you, cugino. She can never have you, not ever. Don’t you think she deserves someone that can give her all of himself?”
“I’ll be at the drop. Send me the time a
nd location,” I growl, ignoring his words.
I ignore them because I don’t want to hear the truth. I know without a doubt that Lenora deserves more. She’ll have it one day too, with another man. But I’m just selfish enough to take what I can get from her now, until she no longer has anything left to give me.
He ends the call without a word and I’m perfectly fine with that. Once again, Gavino is rubbing morals in my fucking face. Morals. What a goddamn joke.
Though the man seems to be enamored by my cousin, I am under no illusion that if he were in my situation, he wouldn’t be doing the same shit. He’s just a lucky bastard that he fell in love with the woman he needed to marry.
My cell rings again and I let out a sigh as I answer it without looking at the name.
“You’ve made my daughter cry, Zanetti,” the cool voice announces before I can even properly greet him.
“Senator.”
I guide my car toward the Brooklyn Bridge, passing right by the building that the woman I’m falling for now resides inside of. There is a beat of silence while the senator gathers his thoughts, or perhaps his bravery. I don’t mind the silence, I don’t want to hear him talk anyway.
“Do we need to have a meet with Santoro about your behavior?” he asks.
“Are you going to call my parents as well? Scold me in front of them or perhaps ask them to scold me themselves?” I ask.
I attempt to keep my voice even and calm, but inside I’m shaking with anger. My knuckles turn white with my grip on the steering wheel as I try to keep from turning my car around and heading straight for the bastard.
“This wasn’t what we agreed on. I assumed as your future wife, my daughter, would have a level of respect for her station.”
I’m unable to contain my laughter as it comes out of my throat in a harsh bark. “The only respect she will get from me is what she earns. As her husband, I don’t have to respect her. She is required to respect me, though. You did not do your due diligence with the organization, Senator. The rest of the world will respect her, always. I, however, am not required to if I am not inclined to.” I hear him stammer on the other end of the line. “Do not think to threaten me or the rest of the Zanetti famiglia, either, Senator. You will not like the repercussions that it would yield.”
Becoming his Mistress: A Zanetti Famiglia Novel Page 9