by Sienna Mynx
“I look forward to it. Ciao, bella,” Armando said and ended the call. Marietta dropped the phone on the receiver. She inhaled deeply and exhaled slow. She couldn’t believe how nervous and excited she was to see Lorenzo. When Leo told her the men were back she hurried and changed. Three long weeks with her beloved absent had left her bored out of her mind. She hated the separation between them because of their competing schedules. Three damn weeks was the final straw.
“Non me ne frega un cazzo!” Lorenzo bellowed and received a roar of laughter as applause. Marietta peeked out at the gathering. Lorenzo sat at the table with an empty plate. The others fed and stuffed their mouths as they listened to Lorenzo and Carlo bicker over who the best player in some sport was. It was Carlo who saw her first. Their eyes met, and once again she felt that flutter she hated. It stirred at the pit of her stomach and spread like a wildfire through her gut. She stepped from her hiding place and his gaze lingered on her face. There were several questions in his eyes. How was she? Did she think of him when he was away? Did she ever think of him at all? Marietta broke her gaze away from him when his piercing gaze slowly descended down the curves of her sunshine yellow summer dress.
Lorenzo looked behind him and saw her. His warm smile pushed all thoughts of Carlo aside. He was home! She gave him one in return.
“Cara mia!” he extended his hand.
She walked over to her husband and leaned to kiss him on the cheek, but he turned up his chin and offered his mouth. His tongue flicked up and beckoned hers in. The kiss became inappropriate, and the smell of him left her rubbing her thighs together discreetly to calm the heat spreading up into her pussy. How many times had she sniffed his bottle of aftershave at night because she missed him so much?
He hooked his arm around her waist and brought her in close to him. Immediately he buried his face between her breasts and shook his head. She loved it! Tickled, she hugged his head and laughed, as several of his men looked away out of respect. Carlo did not. His gaze was unwavering and Marietta felt it strongly. She pushed Lorenzo’s face up and cupped it in her hands. Her man was home. It was time to celebrate.
“I’m so glad my bad boy is home. I’ve missed you, sweet baby,” she kissed him again but drew back before he turned the kiss into something obscene.
He squeezed her ass and bit down on his bottom lip. “Mmph! I have missed you, bambina!” He stared at her breasts with such hunger and lust she felt her nipples peak.
“Behave,” she brought his face up once more. “Are you hungry?” she asked him.
Lorenzo nodded. She peeled his hands off her ass and picked up his plate. Lorenzo drank from his beer and watched her. No matter how long they were married he always looked at her as if she was the last woman on earth. And it made her heart beat faster. Marietta went to the buffet Mirabella and Ana had arranged for the men. Everyone was present. The kids were being served and fed by Zia and Cecilia. Even Dominic was at the table eating. The only person missing was Catalina, her sister, and King B. She found the Don and Donna’s absence odd. Typically they were at the head of the table.
Marietta returned the plate of Lorenzo’s favorites and put it before him. Carlo looked up again and she gave him a friendly smile. He smiled in return. They were respectful of each other now. The kiss shared between them happened two years ago, and never happened again. Carlo was however very much present in her life, and his constant stares or passing whispers did trouble her at times. But more and more they made attempts to keep their distance. And after years of drinking, laughing, and being a family with Carlo, her feelings for him were strengthened. The truth was she’d always care more than a woman in her position should.
After she fixed her plate she sat next to him. Lorenzo had large hands, she felt dwarfed by them when they reached for her, and protected by them when he touched her. His right hand eased between her thighs. She parted them and scooted forward on her chair so no one seated across from them would notice. He ate as if his actions were normal. And for them it was. She tried to eat with him stroking her pussy using his two middle fingers, but she could barely swallow. She glanced up. Carlo’s sly smile revealed that he knew the game they played. She looked away and closed her thighs on Lorenzo’s hand to stop him. But he persisted. She sipped her wine and tried to ignore the passion from her husband, and the intense stares from his best friend. Inside she knew she failed miserably.
**
“Le piace, Donna?”
“Yes. Well done. This is perfect. I’m sure he hasn’t eaten, and you’ve brought everything he loves. Grazie Ana,” Mirabella said.
“Prego,” the cook replied with a curt nod. Ana Marcello was a short stout woman with chubby arms and legs. She’d served the Battaglias for over thirty years under two mistresses, Eve and Catalina. Now she took orders from Mirabella only. Once dismissed, Ana snapped her fingers and her two helpers left with her. Mirabella saw them to the door. Alone, her attention returned to the dinner setting. She inspected the meal. Giovanni preferred that Mirabella prepare his supper with only Ana’s help to serve the rest of the family. Zia spent countless hours teaching Mirabella how to cook traditional dishes. And when Marietta joined the family she too took on the lessons from Zia’s apron, and flourished under the attention. Her sister loved to cook. Mirabella only enjoyed the way it made her children and husband happy.
Tonight, however, Mirabella had Ana do all the cooking. She anticipated a house full of men and couldn’t manage the deed and the children. As usual she tasted his food and found everything to his liking. Though it was customary to have a glass of his favorite Merlot ready with dinner, she’d chosen water for him. She was sure he’d already swallowed his belly full of the grape while away.
Now came the waiting game. Mirabella paced. She stopped when she spotted his guitar. She smiled. When was the last time he serenaded her? She exhaled. She craved the sweet love moments in their marriage. Lately it felt like neither of them made enough time to enjoy it. Mirabella put a hand to her heart and looked away, but her gaze fell upon the bed. The last time they made love she woke up to her wrists being bound with her red silk scarf and tied to the headboard. That was some night.
What time was it? He’d called her over a half hour ago. He should arrive any minute. Mirabella went to the mirror and checked her appearance once more. Her hair was damp from the swim. She decided to let it air dry into its natural curl pattern. It drew up to her neck thick and curly. She wore a long pearl-white satin robe and nothing underneath. She loosened the front of the sash to reveal more of her breasts. Then she thought it was a bit of overkill and tightened it again. She repeated this action twice before finally deciding that less was more for her husband. If her breasts or thighs were revealed to him when they ate together it would only excite him too soon. But at the right time, an excited Don would bring on the sweetest pleasures. Tonight she would not leave him or see their children until sunrise, unless summoned because of an emergency.
Tonight was theirs.
Mirabella fluffed her hair. She puckered her lips and turned sideways to look at her body. She’d gotten plenty of sun lately. Her skin was a richer, deeper, shade of brown. She moved the robe aside a bit to reveal how nicely toned her legs were. The jogging with Marietta had tightened and firmed her ass too. After giving birth to three children, her hips spread a bit but Giovanni loved the curves. Often she woke to find him on top of her entering her from behind because he couldn’t get enough of making love to her with the cushion of her ass between them.
She smiled.
Dinner, the seduction, all of it wasn’t necessary. If she dropped her robe and lay in bed he’d walk into the room and not hesitate to join her. Mirabella looked to the bed once more and considered doing just that. She chuckled and pushed her naughty thoughts aside. He’d been gone from home and not been fed properly. Probably survived on cigars and alcohol. Her lust could wait. At least that’s what she told herself.
The evolution to become the wife to a man as powerfu
l and cunning as Giovanni Battaglia had not been an easy transition. She couldn’t recall when she passed the test and became Donna Battaglia. It happened some time after their scare with the birth of the twins, and the discovery of her being half Sicilian. She and Giovanni decided on the needs in their marriage—hers and his—mostly hers because his were very explicitly understood.
The door opened. Her husband entered with his arm behind his back. He looked like a boss in a black tailored suit with matching shirt and tie. His gaze volleyed between the private dinner arrangement, and then to her evening attire. She found approval in his smile. She started towards him and paused. He revealed a vibrant, fresh, long stemmed bouquet of blue-bloomed roses wrapped by a blue silk ribbon. Her heart stopped at their beauty. Even more remarkable was that the color of the roses matched the color of his eyes.
“Oh my gosh,” she covered her mouth.
“I’ve missed you, Bella,” he said and closed the door behind him. She went to him immediately. He welcomed her into his arms.
“Bentornato a casa, tesoro.” She welcomed him home. She kissed his chin and then brushed her lips across his. Her arms circled his neck and her robe parted all the way up to her waist. She didn’t hesitate to rub her exposed sex against his thigh by bending her left knee and moving against him. He didn’t let her go. She had to pull her lips from his by dropping her head back. She held to his shoulders and looked up into eyes. “Long day at the office, sweetie?”
Giovanni cupped her ass with both hands and squeezed. He seized her lips once more. His tongue swept in and flicked at the roof of her mouth. The smoky liquored taste of his breath, and his strong aftershave weakened her. She didn’t dare break away until he released her.
“Santo cielo! Somebody is happy to be home,” Mirabella chuckled.
“I’ve missed you, Bella,” he replied in a deep whisper that curled around her heart and squeezed.
“Have you eaten?” she stroked his jaw. She looked into his eyes for the truth about his diet during his absence. The glazed weariness and smell of wine on his breath clued her into what had been served for his breakfast and lunch.
“You haven’t eaten, sweetheart. Have you?” she asked with mounting concern.
“I intend to.” He looked down at her cleavage that was heaved up from the front of her robe and crushed against his chest.
Mirabella peeled his hands off her ass before he made good on his promise. She was right to not take him to bed immediately. Her husband needed to be fed. She took him by the wrist. “Come on. Eat first. Food. Please.”
There was a slight pull of resistance from him but she forced the issue. She took the roses from his free hand and brought him to the table. He sat. Mirabella went for the vase on the bookshelf in their room. She brought it to the table and put the roses inside. “They are so beautiful. They remind me of the ones in your mother’s gardens at Villa Mare Blu.”
“I know you like them, so I had them brought in,” he said.
“From Sicily?” she gasped in surprise. That was so sweet and considerate of him. She went over to stand behind him. She uncovered his meal. This one had all his favorites.
“Mmm, looks good, Bella. Grazie,” he said.
She kissed the top of his head. She put her hands to his shoulders, and began to squeeze and massage the hard muscle until they became manageable under her fingers. He devoured his favorites. He glanced from the water she filled in his glass goblet, to the corked bottle of wine on the table. After a pause he picked up the glass of water and drank. The drinking troubled her the most. He’d lessened his intake, but still it was part of him. A scary part of him.
“I saw you at the pool today,” he said after he swallowed.
Mirabella smoothed his hair down and massaged his scalp like she did her curly haired sons. “Why didn’t you send for me sooner? The babies would have loved to see you, Papa.”
“I miss them,” he admitted.
Mirabella smiled. The day before he left for his trip he showered with both of his sons. It was a sight to see. Gianni was in his arms. The toddler used his tiny hands to wash and lather up suds in his thick curly hair as Papa instructed. And then Gianni laughed and bucked with enthusiasm when Giovanni held him under the water to rinse. Gino at Giovanni’s feet, was covered in suds. He jumped, stomped, and splashed in the puddles disappearing down the drain. She could hear Giovanni’s laughter in the room before she discovered them.
“You’ll see them tomorrow,” she reassured him. He glanced up and grinned at her between chews and swallows. He shoveled food in his mouth bite after bite. She had to wonder if he truly digested the mouthfuls he wolfed down.
“I’m glad you’re home. You need to spend a little more time with them, Gio. Especially Gino.”
“Why? Something wrong with my boys?” he asked.
“Gino is a baby but—”
Giovanni glanced back. “What’s wrong with my Gino?” he asked with a mouthful.
She nearly laughed at the comical way his face twisted. “Sweetheart, you aren’t listening. He needs Papa! He’s growing, testing boundaries. No. He’s very disobedient when you aren’t here.”
Giovanni turned and continued to eat. Mirabella could see in his eyes he was amused not concerned. She shook her head and tried to explain. “He climbs furniture and jumps off. He climbs the stairs and jumps from them. He even jumped into the pool today. And Zia and I have tried everything outside of a spanking to discipline him.” She kissed his cheek. “Gianni listens to Mama, all I have to do is call his name. Gino runs the other way. He only lets me hold him when I give him food or drink. He wants to run everywhere and not walk. He’s a little rough with the way he plays with Gianni too.”
“You spoil Gianni. Stop coddling them so much. Gino is a boy. Let him be one. They can’t grow into men if you smother them,” Giovanni said.
Mirabella rolled her eyes. “They just stopped breastfeeding two months ago. And it’s my job to coddle and smother. It’s your job to discipline.” She walked around the table to take a seat. “I want your approval to send Eve to school.”
“She’s four!” Giovanni nearly choked. “Why so soon?”
“They have a primary program at the church. It’s a really good pre-starter program that will accept her at four. I’ve met with sister Aggie and Father Álvaro after mass on Sunday. The church agrees it would be good for Eve.”
Giovanni shrugged and mumbled something under his breath.
“A yes would be nice?” Mirabella desired explicit consent. After all she was sending her baby girl outside of the compound walls. If there were any danger, a hint of it, he’d object without question.
“Whatever you say,” he waved off the discussion. Mirabella watched him finish off his meal. He ate too fast and drank the water pitcher clean.
“Did you eat at all while you were gone?”
“Never this good,” he grunted.
Mirabella chuckled. She poured herself a glass of wine, sipped and watched her husband.
Giovanni glanced up from his plate. “Tell me what you’ve been up to since I’ve been gone.”
“As if your spies don’t report back my every move,” she half-joked.
“Tell me,” he winked. She nodded and began to share. All of her news centered around the company he couldn’t give a shit about. He got rid of the woman Carole Montague for her, but it was a big mistake. Once the office in New York was closed, and his wife and her sister rebuilt her team, the company became her joy. He understood her passion and hid his secret jealousy. He guessed that’s what a good husband would do. And after his scare of almost losing her during childbirth, he swore to be better, a more attentive husband. His method was to ask what would his father do, and then reverse that decision. It worked well for him so far. After all she was a good wife.
“Kyra is coming to Milano. I’ve decided to incorporate my shoe line in the show.” Mirabella prattled on. “She’s trained in Paris and taken some lesson from expert shoemakers out
of Florence. I’ve signed the papers. Dominic said I own the warehouse space next to Fabiana’s.”
“We own it,” he corrected between swallows.
“Yes, sweetheart. We do. Did he tell you? Kyra and Jamie can make their shoes there,” she asked.
“Who the fuck is Kyra?” Giovanni asked. She sliced bread and poured some olive oil with cracked peppercorn in a dish for him. He plucked a thick slice and dipped it in his sauce.
“Renaldo’s fiancée. You remember her, from America.”
Giovanni shrugged. What the fuck did he care? Renaldo had disappointed him. But he was done with the entire matter. Mirabella had convinced him to leave the lovebirds alone.
“The event is going to be so nice, Giovanni. You will be so proud of me,” she giggled.
“I already am,” he said. “You are the best in your business. The very best.”
She nodded in agreement. “Every media outlet has requested an interview with me.”
“No interviews,” he stated.
“Okay,” she said. He heard the disappointment in her voice and looked up. She poked out her lip for him in a playful pout. Giovanni considered the request. Mirabella stared him back in the eye, her gaze never wavering. He sighed. “One interview. You choose. Only one. Please, Bella, I don’t need the headache.”
“Thank you, baby,” she blew him a kiss.
He chuckled and rolled his pasta up on his fork. His gaze however lingered on the separation of her robe while he did so. He ate, chewed, and stared at her breasts. Each time she breathed in they threatened to fall out of their flimsy confinement. After the birth of the twins his wife’s body changed. Her breasts were fuller and her hips a little wider. She had a nice round ass he touched and fucked every chance he got. No matter how many runs she did with her sister, there was a little fat to her lower belly that he found soft and sexy when he was on top of her, inside of her. It’s the mark of her being a mother and beautiful as fuck to him. Giovanni continued to chew remembering the last time they fucked. Of course he couldn’t tell her this. She was so sensitive about her weight and how she looked in her clothes. Especially now that Donna Mirabella Battaglia was to replace Mirabella Ellison for the fashion industry.