The Scandal: Mafia Vows

by SR Jones

  Something blooms in my chest, protective and fierce. Rhea has been through enough; she doesn’t need my ex-wife being a grade-A cunt to make life worse.

  “Is this the new model of mistress then, Stamatis?” Lena purrs. “I knew there had to be a reason you suddenly wanted a divorce.”

  “The only reason I want a divorce is because you’ve been a cold bitch for years, and I’ve had enough.” I sip at my coffee, glance around the square, noting the bustle and the life, and then back to the hate-filled eyes of my soon-to-be ex-wife. “Now why don’t you fuck off?”

  She smiles, and it’s pure venom. “Do you know who you’re drinking coffee with?” she asks Rhea sweetly.

  Rhea nods, but doesn’t say anything.

  “He’s not a very nice man. You’d do better to stay far away. He’s a mob boss.” Lena holds a hand in the air and starts counting my faults off by tapping her fingers one after the other with each fault she brings up. “He’s a cheater, and once a cheat always a cheat. He’s a liar. He fucked his brother’s wife—his own brother; got her pregnant and then ignored poor little slutty Maya when he found out she was his daughter. He let his own son—”

  I’m hauling Lena out of the chair by her elbow before she can utter another word. “We’re in public,” I whisper in her ear as I brush a stray lock of hair from her forehead with exquisite tenderness. I look deep into her eyes. “And have you forgotten what I said? Make this easy, and you walk away a very wealthy woman; make it difficult, and I’ll see you with nothing.”

  “You seem to forget how much I know,” she sneers at me. “I’m the heartbroken wife, and I need to unburden myself. I might find I have an overwhelming urge to talk to people about you.”

  “You do, darling.” My lips brush against her ears now, and I fight off a shudder. “And I might find the urge to feed you to the fishes. That isn’t a euphemism, by the way.”

  “Oh, but it is a threat, isn’t it?”

  I pull back, look deep into her eyes, and nod. “Yes, it is a threat, and a promise.”

  Rhea’s phone goes, she looks at it, and answers. “Star? Is everything okay? Oh, yes, I’d love to, thank you. Okay, Yes, great. Bye.”

  “All okay?” I ask.

  “Yes, Star just asked me over for dinner with her and Markos tonight.”

  “Star … Markos… You’re … oh, no.” Lena laughs so loudly lots of heads turn our way. “Stamatis, this is priceless. Are you that crazy cult bitch?” She leans right into Rhea’s face. “You’re the fucking unhinged bitch who gave her daughter away to auction. You know what he said about you? He called you a fucking cunt. Those were his words.” She turns back to me and shakes her head and sighs. “You stupid, stupid pathetic man.”

  Lena turns on her heels and storms away. I stare after her, so tempted to kill her with my bare hands right here and now, no matter the witnesses, that I have to clench my fists in order to stop myself.

  She’s fucked if she thinks I’m going to go easy on her now.

  I turn to Rhea to see if she’s okay, to find an empty seat. I look up and spot her rushing down through the arcade, almost running. I pull my wallet out of my pocket, throw some euros onto the table, and take off after her.

  Lena isn’t lying. I did say those things, when I knew nothing about Rhea and had only met Star briefly. I had said her mother must be a cunt to do such a thing. Fuck.

  When I catch up to Rhea, I wince at the tears tracking her cheeks.

  “Rhea,” I say as I walk beside her. “Listen, it’s not … how she worded it.”

  “I’ve got to go.” She sniffs.

  I do not want even more of a scene, not after the stunt Lena just pulled. I glance around and see we’re right in front of one of the most exclusive hotels in the city. A place where I’ve met many shady characters, to do even shadier deals. A place where I’ve spent a great deal of money in the bar and restaurant. I’ve never booked a room, though. Not thinking, but acting on instinct, I grab Rhea by the arm and march inside.

  When I get to reception, I smile as I recognize the young man behind the desk. “A room please,” I say.

  “What?” Rhea pulls her arm, but I don’t let go.

  The man glances at her, then back to me. He knows exactly who I am. Not arguing with me, he smiles blandly, swipes my card, and hands me the key.

  I pocket it and pull Rhea to the elevator, which we ride in total silence. She’s not kicking and screaming, but she’s seething.

  When we get to the floor our room is on, we exit the elevator and I walk us to the hotel room, unlocking the door and guiding Rhea inside.

  I close the door, and Rhea backs away from me, eyeing me and then the bed.

  I didn’t bring her here for that, but the way she’s acting so nervy is sure making me horny as fuck. It seems I’m a sick bastard who really likes the chase, and even more so with prey this skittish.

  “Listen,” I tell her, voice firm. “I didn’t bring us here for that.” I point to the bed. “I only wanted to talk to you before you ran off, and I didn’t want a scene in the street.”

  I don’t tell her I also don’t want any of my enemies hearing of today’s confrontation and looking into Rhea. I’m too paranoid about someone hurting her, and she’s not protected the way Maya is by Damen and his many men, or by me and mine. In fact, I decide, I’m going to put a man on her. Someone discreet, who can follow her and make sure she’s okay.

  “Okay, well, talk then,” she says quietly but firmly.

  Rhea doesn’t seem to do shouting and dramatics. The same way she’s buttoned up most of the time, she is angry too. Instead of being fire, she’s all ice. It’s way worse than if she screamed and shouted at me.

  I know she’s hurt by Lena’s words, and I feel like shit, but I won’t lie to her. “Look, I called you a very bad word a long time ago when I didn’t know you, okay? It didn’t mean anything. I’m a man who throws bad words around a lot. You spend any time with me, and you’ll soon realize I’ve the mouth of a sailor.”

  “You thought what I did was despicable; don’t lie or sugarcoat it.”

  I spin her around to fully face me. “I’m not lying.” I give a sharp shake of my head. “I could have lied, Rhea. I could have easily said that Lena was making it up, and I’d have had you convinced because it’s not hard to paint my wife as an unhinged bitch. I don’t want to lie to you, though.” It was true; for some reason, I didn’t. “I called you that, and I thought what you did to your daughter was shitty, but I get it now. And I’ve done way worse.”

  “So it’s okay that I’m an immoral … what did you say? Oh yes, a fucking cunt. Because you’re a cunt too?”

  The word out of her mouth is jarring. Shocking even. I stare at her for a moment and then speak my mind as I always seem to do around her. “Christ, I want you.”

  “Yes, I know. You think I’m gorgeous; I’ve got the message.”

  “You are gorgeous, but that’s not why I want you.”

  “No?” She’s almost sneering at me—almost but not quite—and I wonder if Rhea even has a real sneer in her.

  “No. If all I wanted was a beautiful woman to wet my dick, I could walk out of here right now, go to one of the bars in the city, or even one of the strip clubs owned by friends of mine, and have any nineteen-year-old I want riding me within the hour.”

  “Well, why don’t you then?” She moves toward the door.

  I look at her and smile. “Because I don’t want you for your surface, Rhea. I want you for those depths you hide so well. I want you because when you fuck you come alive, and you let some of that fire hidden deep, deep inside come up to the surface. I saw you last night, the real you. And I think you see me. Those nineteen-year-old strippers would fuck me because of who I am. They’d get a kick out of it. You, though? You want me, as in the person I am, when you take away the Hermes tie, the Breitling watch, and the cartel boss title. We see each other; don’t you get it?”

  She has her back to me now, but she’s g
ot her hand on the door and hasn’t opened it.

  “Come here,” I say.

  She doesn’t move.

  “Rhea,” I put some command into my tone. “Come. Here.”

  My cock throbs when she turns and does as I say, moving to me, her face down, her cheeks pink.

  “Kneel down,” I tell her, not sure what I’m playing at. Last night I was gentle as fuck with her, but now … now I want to make her kneel for me.

  She glances at me, her eyes confused. “Kneel,” I repeat.

  She does, and I unzip my trousers, watching her. As I pull the zip down and reach for my cock, taking it out, her eyes widen.

  “Open your mouth,” I say.

  And God, but she does it. She opens her mouth and waits, like a baby fucking bird, for me to feed her.

  I touch her cheek once and then push my cock inside her warm, welcoming hole.

  I groan as she takes me in. Part of me wants to fuck her throat and come down it hard and fast, but I don’t. She’s like a beautiful porcelain doll, and while I might want to use her, I don’t want to break her. I want her in perfect working order, so she can use me right back.

  “Good girl,” I murmur as she sucks on me, uncertain at first, but more confident as she gets into it.

  When she’s got a good rhythm going, I stop her, not wanting to come until we’ve had more fun.

  I pull her to her feet and into the bedroom. We’re kissing before we hit the bed, and she falls onto it first, me beside her. We’re still kissing, and I laugh into her mouth as we land side by side. I feel like a damn kid, or rather a horny teenager.

  Even though I had her the other night, the need is as bright as that first moment she handed me her phone number at Maya’s house. I get her top off, but then fumble her bra, which is not something I normally do. I’m fucking practiced at taking bras off but with Rhea, I’m all clumsy haste.

  She’s not much better, and I swear she’s actually shaking in my arms.

  I need to be inside her. Right the fuck now.

  When we’re both finally naked, I roll her under me, reveling in her skin against mine. She’s warm and silky, and she must like the feel of me just as much because she groans and wraps her legs and arms around me, pulling us even closer together.

  We’re kissing, and part of me thinks I need to slow this down, make sure she’s ready for me. She hitches her hips, and I’m right there at her entrance, and my mind goes blank.

  “Please,” she whispers, and it’s like a bomb being detonated in the room, that one quiet word.

  I start to push inside her, groaning at the feel of her, when I stop, freezing.

  She blinks at me, almost sleepily, but it’s a lust-fueled haze instead. “What’s wrong?”

  “Fuck. I haven’t got any condoms.”

  Her mouth drops open. “Oh, crap. Really? You did the other day.”

  “Yeah, I had one in my wallet. Don’t know why I carried that damn thing around because I never intended to use it. As for today, I hadn’t planned on this when we came here, had no intentions of this being the outcome, so I have no protection.”

  “I’m on the pill,” she says and then blushes. “My therapist thought taking control of my own biology was a good idea after the … commune.”

  “I’m clean,” I tell her. “I got tested about a year ago, and I’ve not been with anyone but you since then.”

  “And your wife,” she adds, not making it a question.

  “No, not my wife. Fuck no. She’d chop it off.” I shake my head, and Rhea starts to giggle.

  “I’m clean too, I was checked out when I went on the pill.”

  “So we’re good?” I ask.

  “Yes, we’re good, and I promise not to chop it off.”

  I wince, but we’re both smiling as I take her lower lip in between my teeth and pull. She moans and the mood darkens, but not with violence. Only lust. Want. Need.

  She reaches between us, and puts me where she wants me, biting her lip as I push inside.

  We begin moving, and this isn’t the fast, hard fuck we had last time; it’s slower, but no less needy. We’re as close as we can get, our breath mingling, our hearts thudding against one another, and our lips touching.

  Each time I bottom out, she rubs her clit against me, taking what she needs. Wanting to help her get there, I reach between us and rub her clit as I bend my head and take one swollen nipple into my mouth, relishing the rough texture, her gasps and moans.

  Her nails dig into my upper arms where she’s holding onto me, clinging to me as if I can guide her through the storm of her orgasm.

  When she comes, she throws her head back and whimpers as she grips me so hard with her sleek muscles. I lose myself, planting my seed in her and groaning against her neck.

  After we both get our breath back, she laughs softly. “I think we have … what do you call it? Chemistry?”

  “Oh, yeah, we have chemistry,” I assure her.

  “I’m so fucking sorry about what Lena did.” I kiss her cheek, then her collarbone. “She keeps doing shit like that and things won’t go well for her.”

  “What will you do to her?” she asks, her eyes wide.

  “What do you think I would do to her?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know.”

  I pull back and sit up. “Do you think I’d somehow harm my wife?”

  She shrugs and looks guilty. “You’re a mafia boss, Stamatis. I imagine you’ve done some pretty awful things in your time.”

  Wow, what the fuck do I say to that? “Yeah, but I wouldn’t harm my wife. You think I’m the sort of guy who would off my wife, yet you’re here with me? What does that say about you?”

  “I don’t know,” she admits softly. “I’ve never been so attracted to someone before. They do say when you fall in love it’s like a mental illness.” She flushes and puts her hand over her mouth. “Oh God, not that I’m in love with you. But maybe lust is the same.”

  I’m fucking relieved she’s not in love with me because I’m in no position to get involved with her beyond this superficial thing we’ve got going on, but I’m also pissed at the way she’s said she’s not in love with me. As if the very idea is somehow abhorrent to her.

  “I’ve got to go,” I say, pushing off the bed.

  “Oh, okay.” She gets up too, raking her fingers through her hair, and wiping at the smeared make-up under her eyes.

  I get dressed as she follows suit, and we don’t speak. I’m acting like some hormonal bitch, but she’s irritated me, and worse, I don’t know why. Nothing she’s said should anger me, but it has. I want her to see me as some knight in shining armor, but it seems she sees me as some grubby criminal who she wants to get horizontal with, despite her better judgement.

  “I’m sorry I upset you,” she says as we are both fastening our shoes.

  “You didn’t,” I mumble.

  “Yes, I did, Stamatis, don’t lie.” I look at her in surprise. She’s amazingly forthright.

  “You’ve no filter, have you?” I ask. “Or rather, I should say, you don’t lie and sugarcoat things.”

  “No. I lived in the commune for so long, and we didn’t do that there. Out here, everyone seems to flatter and tell white lies as surely as they breathe, but that’s not what I’m used to.”

  “What are you used to?”

  “Honesty, integrity, warmth, compassion.”

  “You think so?” I’m shocked she thinks her cult provided those things.

  “Yes.” She sighs. “I know the commune wasn’t a good place, and the leaders were truly awful people who manipulated us into doing terrible things. But day to day, many of the people there were good and kind. At least on the surface, they were.”

  “Yeah, well, surfaces lie. There’s a stretch of beach out of town, ocean’s like a millpond, barely a ripple, but underneath, there are some of the most dangerous currents in the world. Sometimes the calmest looking waters can be the most treacherous.”

  “Like you?”
>
  I blink. “No. I wasn’t referring to myself.” I close the gap between us, both of us standing now, and take her chin between my thumb and finger. “Do you want me to be dangerous, Rhea?” She doesn’t speak, but her breath hitches.

  Shit, she fucking likes it. Part of her, anyway. Likes the danger, and the fact that I’m a bad guy.

  “No,” she says softly. “But it doesn’t bother me either, not half as much as it should.”

  Then she kisses me on the mouth and leaves the room.

  I stand for the longest time, not moving, after the door shuts quietly behind her.

  The woman is a mystery wrapped in an enigma, and I want to get to the bottom of her so bad I can taste it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Rhea

  Stamatis and I have been doing our thing for almost two weeks now. My thighs ache from the exertion of last night. I’m so glad Gus has a best friend and has a sleepover at his house most weeks, sometimes twice a week, as it means I can have Stamatis here those evenings. Tonight, I’m having both the kids here. They’re total nerds and obsessed with their children’s version of some sort of dungeons and dragons type game.

  Gus runs up to me, his face flushed with happiness. “Mom, look, we’ve got to the next level.” He shoves his book at me and then some cards which form part of the game.

  I smile and ruffle his hair. I love him so much. My therapist told me to be careful not to put too much on him being a good kid, as she says it is tempting if you’ve messed up badly with one child, to view the other as some sort of blank slate that you can use to correct all your previous mistakes with.

  I’m trying not to, but it is tempting to see Gus as my salvation.

  The phone goes, and I ignore it. Papan, Gus’ father, has been calling me for the last few days wanting to come and take Gus out for the day. I need to get some legal advice because I don’t trust him. He’s involved with the commune members once more, helping rebuild, and I’m terrified they will take Gus and keep him. I know they’ll be armed just like before, and this time they’ll make sure their defenses are powerful.

  My cell trills, and as Gus rushes back to his friend, I glance at it, my stomach doing a little somersault when I see Stamatis’ number.