I watch the message send and then I lock my phone. I lay back on my pillow, not expecting a response so fast. A text comes through, making my phone light up and illuminate my dark bedroom. I pick up my phone and unlock it.
No. Actually, you’re very smart. You’re choosing to ignore the stupid, strict rules that society has placed on female sexuality and you’re doing something purely for yourself. You deserve to treat yourself, Alejandra. Let me treat you.
Oh, good Lord.
If this is how they make them in Italy, then I should have moved there a long time ago. I fall asleep dreaming of dark eyes, tanned skin, and thick accents...
Friday comes around sooner than I expect. I feel as though I blink, and the week passes. I spend the day anxiously awaiting Domenico’s call. It’s silly, really, considering I could just call him instead.
He finally calls at 2PM, as I’m cleaning up after finishing lunch. I look at my phone, vibrating on the kitchen counter. I swipe to pick up the call and hold the phone to my ear.
Sexy Italian Mafia Don is the caller ID, thanks to a drunken Hanna.
“Gattina, how are you?” Domenico practically purrs down the phone to me.
I swallow the lump in my throat and struggle to find my voice.
“Hello,” I reply and quickly clear my throat. “I’m good, thank you. And you?”
He chuckles. “Better, now that I’ve heard your voice. Tell me, dolcezza, do you have an answer for me?”
My heart races in my chest and adrenaline pumps through my veins for no other reason than being on the phone to this man. It is ironic that his voice causes the fight or flight response in my body, yet he wants me to trust him enough to spend a week in his house.
“Yes,” I whisper, too embarrassed to speak any louder.
I hear the sharp intake of breath on Domenico’s end of the line. “You’re agreeing to my proposition?” I can hear the surprise and excitement in his voice.
Did he think I would bow out?
“Yes,” I reply, my voice stronger this time. “I am.”
He chuckles. “Oh, gattina, the things I’m going to do to you. Be ready at 5PM. Wear whatever you want, I want you to be comfortable.”
“Okay,” I mumble.
He hangs up and I stand frozen, staring at my phone.
What on Earth did I just agree to?
After I snap out of my mini-panic, I take a shower. I shave everywhere that needs it and scrub my body in an unconscious effort to clean myself before I commit the sins I’m probably going to this week.
I stand in front of my wardrobe, covering in moisturiser from head to toe, trying to pick something to wear. The weather is good, and Domenico told me to be comfy. I’m thinking trousers are a safer bet than a dress or a skirt. Something tells me that Mr Lencioni has wandering hands.
I pull on a pair of flattering jeans and a simple top that hugs my chest. I pull out my suitcase from under the bed and lay it on top of the comforter. Now comes the next hard part; deciding what to pack.
Obviously, I include a ton of underwear. I pick out all my best stuff, the lace and silk sets that Hanna has been gifting me each birthday and I’ve never been wearing.
I put in a lot of comfy clothes and some bikinis. I also include some dressier outfits, my nice dresses, and cute tops. And then about twelve pairs of shoes, for every occasion. I have to sit on my suitcase to get it to close.
Next, I sit down at my vanity and start doing my make-up.
Why am I doing this?Why do I want to look good for this guy?
“Because you haven’t had sex in too fucking long,” I answer my unspoken question with a verbal answer.
Think of this as a sexual reawakening. It’s one person helping out another.
Plus, it’s a really good investment for my restaurants. Two million isn’t the kind of money I would turn down. At worst, he’ll turn out to be a crazed sex pervert and I high-tail it out of there. At best, I get a week of orgasms with a hot man and a tidy payment at the end.
Oh, yes, I’m definitely doing this.It’ll be a story to tell the grandkids one day.
The knock on my apartment door comes at exactly five. I still jump, not ready for it. I open it up and find Domenico Lencioni and two of his men, standing in my doorway.
“Alejandra.” I catch sight of his tongue flicking in his mouth as he pronounces my name with his heavy accent. “You look beautiful, gattina.”
“Thank you.” I lick my lips and take a step back. “Do you want to come in?”
Domenico smirks and nods. He gives another nod to the two bodyguards, and they stay outside whilst he comes in and closes the door behind himself.
“Will you give me a quick tour, please?” He asks politely.
Feeling rather self-conscious, I show him around my flat. It’s times like these that I’m grateful that I’m a huge, neat freak. Unexpected guests are my speciality, my space is always immaculate. I give him a tour, pointing out each room. He spots my bulging suitcase on my bed and lifts it off for me.
“I assume this is to take with you?” He asks, holding the suitcase as though it were weightless.
Great.He’s a muscular strongman, too.
“Yes,” I respond, slightly embarrassed. “Please.”
“No problem,” he replies and takes the suitcase through to the hallway. “You have a lovely home, gattina. I can’t wait to show you mine.”
He opens the door and one of the bodyguards immediately takes the suitcase off of him. I follow him out and lock up my door. I put my keys in my handbag, sling the bag over my shoulder and turn to face him.
Domenico gives me a smile, a dangerous smile that promises panty-ripping and toe-curling orgasms. He holds out his hand for me to take. His hand rough, tanned palm upturned.
“Are you ready, gattina?”
I am most certainly not ready. But I nod like a bloody bobblehead and slip my hand into his. The Mafia Don leads me down to his car, where my suitcase has already been put in the back. It’s a big black SUV thing that looks like it could survive a collision with a tank. There’s another one behind it, with another two bodyguards in.
How much protection does this guy need?
Domenico gets the door for me and helps me into the car. His hand gently rests on my lower back as I climb in, and that small touch does ridiculous things to my heart.
He comes around and gets in on the other side. I clip on my seatbelt and run my hands over the smooth leather upholstery. The driver pulls out into the road and we’re off.
I watch my apartment building disappear from view, taking the feeling of safety with it. Domenico leaves me to my thoughts, but he reaches over for my hand. As we each look out of our windows, he strokes his thumb over my knuckles in a soothing manner.
The further we drive from the city centre, out to the suburbs, the more my nerves build. I have Find My iPhone on, and Hanna can track my phone. If anything happens to me, she can track my location.
But, funnily enough, my nerves are nothing to do with worries of getting attacked. I’m more nervous that Domenico is going to touch me in a completely different way, and that I’m going to like it.
His house comes into view. I recognise it from the photo. Towering up on the hill, it overlooks the city. The driver pulls up the long driveway and stops outside a set of industrial-looking gates. He punches in some code, and they open ominously.
It is only a few more minutes’ drive up to the house. Domenico reaches under the seat in front of him and pulls out a mini briefcase. He clicks it open, and my eyes widen. There is a handgun nestled in some foam stuff.
He pulls it out, loads it with ammo like they do in films. He pushes something on the side, I think it has something to do with safety. Stops it firing? I don’t know. He points it towards the ground, turns it so that the handle is facing me and then holds it out.
“I promised you your own firearm, gattina,” he says casually. “This is yours.”
I shuffle back as though he’s just offered for me to hold a decapitated human head. I don’t want to be anywhere near that thing.
“I take it back,” I tell him hurriedly. “I don’t even know how to use one of those.”
His lips twitch with a smile. “I will feel safer if you have it. Here, let me give you a quick lesson.”
As we come up to the house Domenico shows me how to take off the safety and prepare the gun for firing. He said that aim isn’t such a big deal, especially if your target is within close range.
Fuck me, that thing is heavy.They never show that in the movies.
I feel more scared holding it than I did without it. Nonetheless, I slip it into my handbag like I’m some badass.