“You know how to get ahold of me. I will always answer your calls, always. When I know my address, I’ll send it to you. Just know, you are never on your own. You always have me, forever.”
She nods, then turns away from me and makes her way toward Irene. The bitch smirks before she jerks her chin and spins her back to me. I watch as they walk away from me.
Irene is my past and I’m not sad to see her go, but Rosana, I’m not sure of the life that she has ahead of her and I would be a liar if I said that I wasn’t worried.
“Dance?” a man’s voice murmurs. Turning, I smile at a man. He’s a little older, but he looks oddly familiar. “Carlo,” he introduces. “My son is Arlo,” he clarifies. “Dance?” he asks again, extending his palm.
Nodding, I smile as I slip my hand in his. Together we walk out onto the dancefloor. There is a Sinatra song playing and I almost laugh at how much of a cliché it is, but I don’t. Carlo has one of my hands in his, the other resting at my side as he effortlessly twirls me around the dancefloor in my gown.
“You make a beautiful bride, mimma.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, my face feeling hot from his compliment.
He hums the tune of the song as he smiles at me. “I don’t have daughters. Just my new one, Lenora. She likes you. Tells me so many good things about you,” he says softly.
Clearing my throat, I try not to tear up. “You need to know. This life, it isn’t easy. You women have to be stronger than any man on earth. Are you strong, mimma?”
“Do you know Irene Mazzilli?” I deadpan.
His eyes widen and he lets out a low groan before he chuckles. “I see,” he drawls.
“She loves my sister. Me? Not so much,” I say, admitting it aloud to a near stranger makes me feel funny, but Carlo is comfortable.
We twirl around the floor as the song continues to play. “Understood,” he whispers. “So, you are strong. Good. You will need it if you plan on taming one of these men.”
“Tame?” I ask. “I assumed they were all untamable.”
Carlo lets out a laugh, its loud and boisterous. I’m sure that it causes people to look at us, but I can only see this man in front of me who has beautiful laugh lines and an even more gorgeous laugh. I didn’t know it was possible for any of these men to actually laugh and mean it.
My heart skips, wondering if I will ever hear Massimo laugh, truly laugh. Flicking my gaze over to him and his group of men, I bite my bottom lip as I watch them. He’s in deep discussion with Gavino, I can only see his profile. His gorgeous, but serious, profile.
“May I cut in?”
Turning my head, Carlo’s fingers flex against the small of my back. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” he says with a clear warning tone to his voice.
The other man doesn’t say a word and Carlo grunts as he reluctantly releases me. The man who takes his place is around Massimo’s age if I had to guess, late-twenties or early thirties. He’s handsome, too, just like most of the men around here.
“Tizaiano Bianchi,” he says, announcing himself.
His fingers curl around my waist as he pulls me a little too close to his body. Lifting my eyes up to meet his, I smile softly, careful not to give away my racing heart at his close presence.
“Pippa,” I say.
He dips his chin, his gaze flicking down to my chest before it lifts back up to meet my own eyes. “You’re a beautiful bride. Massimo is a very lucky man,” he purrs.
My breath hitches, not because he’s complimented me, but because there is meaning behind that compliment. I don’t know who this man is, but I don’t need any trouble. This man is assuredly just that—trouble.
“Thank you,” I whisper, suppressing a shiver.
“That’s quite enough, Bianchi,” an angry voice snaps.
Chapter Nine
MASSIMO
My fingers itch to take my gun out of my holster and pump six rounds into Tiziano Bianchi. I don’t give a fuck if he’s a prince on the verge of becoming a Boss or not.
I could give a goddamn.
He’s touching my wife. He’s dancing far too fucking close to her and the way he’s looking at her, I know that if he thought he could, he’d take a chance to be with her, to take her from me.
“Just dancing with the beautiful bride,” he says, holding his hands up.
“Yeah? I know what you asked Mia and Gavino to help you with. Stop sniffing,” I bark.
Tiziano snorts. “You have no clue, Massimo.” He takes a step away from Pippa and my anger recedes a bit now that he’s no longer touching what’s mine.
“I don’t?” I ask.
He shakes his head once, his gaze flicking to Pippa before he brings it back to meet mine. “None.”
Without another word, he turns and walks away from us. Watching him go, I ball my hands into fists, inhaling a breath before I let it out in a long exhale. Turning to Pippa, I tilt my head to the side. Her eyes are on me, her expression blank and completely unreadable.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Her lips twitch in a small smile. “I am. Should I be worried about him?” she asks.
Shaking my head once, I hold my hand out for her. Without hesitating, she slips her palm into mine. Tugging her against my chest, I dance with my wife.
Wife.
I’m still in awe that she is mine.
All mine.
I don’t have to watch her from afar, I don’t have to share her time with another fucking soul, she is one hundred percent mine and nobody else’s.
“Should I be worried about him?” Pippa asks after a few beats of the music.
Dipping my chin, I grin down at her. “Not at all. I got you, dolcezza.”
Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t say anything else. I’m glad. The first dance we had, we were unable to enjoy one another. This one is not under an audience. This is just us. Sure, there are people around, but it’s nothing like it was earlier tonight.
“What are you scared of?” I chance asking her.
“What do you mean?”
My lips twitch into a small grin and my eyes search hers. “In general, tonight, whatever. I want to get to know you better. I only have had one conversation with you in three years,” I say.
She nods her head once. She clears her throat, her eyes search mine as we sway from side to side. “Anything?” she asks on a whisper.
Lowering my head, I press my cheek against her temple. “Anything, la mia sposa.”
“I’m terrified to be a typical mafia wife. Turning a blind eye to a man who fucks other women behind her back because she wants his money.”
The words she says makes me feel sick. She’s describing my father, my father and my mother. She doesn’t stop there though.
“I don’t want to be an accessory to him. Seen, but never heard. Something that he just tolerates until he leaves my bed for another. Happy to have money to buy my happiness.”
“Pippa,” I begin.
She pulls back slightly, shaking her head. “Just make me one promise,” she demands.
Though her voice is so soft and sweet, it doesn’t feel like a demand. I drop my chin, letting out a small grunt, urging her to continue.
“If my sister ever needs anywhere to go. If she’s ever kicked out by my aunt, or just needs to get away from her. Please tell me that she can come to us.”
I’m a bit surprised by her demand. Surprised, but fucking happy that it is what it is. Love. Pippa loves her sister. She wants to protect her, care for her, and she thinks that I can help with that. She wants me to help.
“Absolutely, dolcezza. Our doors are always open for Rosana. Whatever she needs from me, from us, she has it.”
Pippa’s eyes water, and I watch as a few wet tears roll down her cheeks. Lifting one of my hands, I use the back of my fingers to wipe the wetness away.
“Thank you,” she rasps.
Dropping my forehead to hers, I close my eyes as I continue dancing with my new bride. “Whatever you nee
d from me, Pippa, you have. As long as I can give it to you, you have it, dolcezza.”
“Thank you, Massimo. You have everything from me,” she breathes.
I almost tell her that I know, but I don’t. Pulling her a bit closer, I hold her against me, shifting my head so that my cheek is against her temple again. I let out a breath as I spin her around the dance floor slowly, enjoying every minute of this moment with her.
“Everything will be okay, Pippa.”
I want the words to be the truth, but this is one thing that I’m saying without certainty. I honestly don’t know if everything will be okay, but fuck me, I want it to be. For her, and selfishly for me.
PIPPA
Honestly, I wasn’t sure that this night would get here or that it would ever end. But it has. The limo pulls up to a hotel and I’m surprised, assuming that we would go straight to Massimo’s home after the reception. The driver stops, then opens the door for us. Massimo climbs out first, then helps me.
“We’re staying here for the weekend. I know that we aren’t having a honeymoon yet, and I’m sorry about that, but I thought one weekend before real life set in would be better than nothing?”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
I’ve never stayed in a hotel before, never had the need. I’ve only lived with my parents, then with Irene. I spent the night at friends’ houses here and there over the years, but I’ve never been outside of the state of New York, and never gone far enough to stay in a hotel.
Massimo takes my hand in his, he leads the way as we walk through the hotel doors. Looking around, I see the name, The William Vale, plastered everywhere and I assume that’s where we are.
Kind of a weird name for a hotel, but I just shrug it off and keep walking until we reach the front desk.
“Checking in,” Massimo says before he clears his throat.
The man behind the desk nods his head once. “Name please,” he calls out.
“Massimo Ferrucci.”
The man behind the desk lifts his gaze, his eyes wide as he gulps. “Sir, thank you for checking into The William Vale, your room is ready and your luggage has already been taken inside and unpacked. The items you requested are waiting for you. Is there anything else that I can do for you this evening?”
I blink, shocked at the service. He didn’t even look at his computer and he knew exactly who Massimo was by name. I wonder if all hotels are like this, if they are, I hope that these employees get paid plenty for their great service.
“No, my bride and I are ready to retire for the evening,” Massimo says, his voice sounding as bored as can be.
The man nods then reaches across the desk and hands a small piece of folded paper to Massimo.
“You’ll be staying in the Vale Garden Residence. Please call down to me if you desire or require anything this evening.”
Massimo doesn’t say anything, he takes the folded paper, then turns on his heels and with my hand in his, begins to walk. Turning my head, I smile at the man.
“Thank you,” I call as I lift my hand and wave.
His eyes widen and he dips his chin, but his lips twitch out of the corner of my eye. Massimo turns the corner, so I face forward and hurry behind him, attempting to keep up so that I’m not dragged.
We hurry into the elevator car and I watch as Massimo slips what looks like a credit card into a slot. Then he touches the very top number on the keypad. I don’t ask him what he’s doing. I don’t want to look like the naïve girl that I clearly am.
Silently, we stand next to one another as the elevator climbs to the top. Massimo doesn’t step out immediately, instead, he bends down and scoops me up in his arms. His feet carry us as I slip my arms around his neck.
He reaches a door and without using the plastic card, he just turns a handle and opens it. He carries me over the threshold and something inside of me warms at the thought of this man, this virtual stranger, caring enough that he wants to give me a sweet wedding night tradition.
“Thank you, Massimo,” I whisper.
He doesn’t respond to me right away, he doesn’t even put me down immediately. Instead, he turns to the left and starts to climb stairs. Stairs. I didn’t even know hotel rooms had stairs. When we’re up the two-floor staircase, only then does he slowly let me down to my feet.
Turning me around, I gasp as I see the city ahead of me. There are millions of little twinkling lights coming from the buildings, and then there’s water, and lights across the East River as I look toward New York.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
Massimo hums behind me. His lips touch the side of my neck as his fingers grip my waist on each side. I can feel his hard body against me, his length pressing into my lower back. He doesn’t make a move, doesn’t even shift his hands as he stands behind me.
“I don’t have another woman, Pippa. Only you. I cannot promise you that we will have a perfect life. I cannot promise you anything, except two things. One, your sister will always have a home wherever we are. Two, I will try to do my best by you.”
Turning around in his arms, I tilt my head back and lift my hands, cupping each side of his neck.
“Why?” I ask. “Why will you try your best?”
His lips twitch, his eyes, they’re dark, but they twinkle with the city lights behind us. “Because, dolcezza. I have never had a gift quite like you before. I have never had something that I’ve dreamt about, but thought was completely out of my reach. I have that now. I have you, and I want your smiles. I want them aimed right at me.”
“My smiles?” I ask.
He grins, though it doesn’t reach his eyes, and I vow to myself that one day it will. I’ll make his smile reach those dark eyes. I’ll make him belly laugh the way that Carlo did. I’ll give him beautiful laugh crinkles next to his eyes and gorgeous lines around his mouth.
I will do that for him, not because he’s some perfectly good man, but because I think that he needs it and maybe if I do that for him, he’ll be the man that I need him to be for me. It’s selfish, though aren’t we all, by human nature, selfish?
If I make him happy, if I give him everything he needs, everything he desires, then maybe, just maybe, he’ll give me everything I need in return.
Chapter Ten
PIPPA
My entire body trembles with nervousness. I know what he expects, what will happen soon. He wants to be inside of me, make me his wife in body as he has done in name. My jittery arm lifts, my shaky fingers touch his black tie.
Massimo lifts his hand, wrapping his strong fingers around my wrist. My eyes are focused on his unwavering ones. He’s not nervous, not in the slightest. He’s completely cool, calm, and collected. No doubt because he’s done this more than once, more than a dozen times, I’m sure.
“Are you scared?” he asks, his voice low and even.
Pressing my lips together, I think about his question. Scared? No. Terrified? Yes. Nervous? Absolutely.
Letting my breath out in a whoosh, I shake my head. “I’m more worried than anything,” I admit.
He tilts his head to the side. “Worried?”
Nodding my head slowly, I don’t break eye contact with him. Lifting my other arm, I curl my fingers around the side of his neck. Inhaling a deep breath, I shift closer to him, my chest pressing against his own.
“Yeah, if I’m not what you want? What you need? Then what happens to me?”
He jerks his body back, his eyes wide as if he hadn’t thought about that. He made me his wife and he has no clue if I’ll be what he wants me to be in bed. Sex is important. I may be innocent in some ways, but I do know that money and sex are the two main reasons people divorce.
“You’ll be what I need, dolcezza,” he rasps.
“How do you know?”
His lips twitch into a grin. “Because I’ll make sure you are exactly what I expect. You’ll learn to crave the way I touch you. My hands, my body, my lips, they will be all you’ll ever know, and, in the end, you’ll do what I want
the way I want it, therefore pleasing me completely.”
“Massimo,” I breathe, my entire body breaking out into a shiver.
He lifts my hand, his fingers still curled around my wrist, to his mouth. My lips part as he touches the pads of my fingers with just a light brush. Then he guides my hand to the middle of his chest before he slowly slides it down the center of his torso until it’s inches from his crotch.
“Massimo,” I say on an exhale.
His eyes turn to liquid, they darken to black before my eyes. He moves my hand so that my palm is resting against his slacks, right where his hard length rests beneath his pants. My fingers flex, curling around him. I have nothing to compare it to, aside from what I’d heard my friends talk about, but he seems big to me.
Massimo lowers his head, my hand still wrapped around his neck. My body is frozen, I can’t move as his lips gently touch mine. He doesn’t lift his mouth from my own before he speaks.
“We have to learn one another’s bodies, Pippa. Discover what we need, what we like. The good thing is that we have a lifetime to learn, yeah?”
I can’t speak, instead, I just exhale a whimper. He chuckles softly, his tongue tasting my bottom lip.
“There is so much to learn too, la mia sposa and I aim to be your patient teacher.”
His mouth moves from mine, his lips brushing my cheek before they move to just below my ear. My eyes flutter closed as he tastes my neck. His lips, his tongue, and even his teeth slide across my skin.
“Please, Massimo,” I sigh.
He hums against my flesh, nipping me as he moves down to my collarbone where my dress neckline hits. “Please, what?” he asks.
My entire body shudders, my hand moves and my fingers curl around the back of his neck. My fingers twist in his hair. It’s the same length it was three years ago, it looks as though it still needs a trim, but I like it.
Becoming the Street Boss: A Zanetti Famiglia Novel Page 8