Broken Whispers: An Arranged Marriage Mafia Romance (Perfectly Imperfect Book 2), page 12
I grab her chair and pull it closer to me. “Baby,” I bend to whisper in her ear, “come sit on my lap.”
I look up at Mikhail, raise an eyebrow, then get up and stand between his legs. He taps his left thigh and looks at me pointedly, as if he is daring me. Mikhail never does anything without a reason, and I’m curious what he has in mind, so I turn and sit on his leg.
“Quite a crowd. Your nonna is popular,” he says.
His hand finds the slit of my dress, and the next second, there is a touch of a finger on my knee, before it slowly travels higher over the inner side of my thigh. It lingers there for a moment, then starts going up. He’s crazy. I blink and turn my head to look at him.
“Something wrong?” he asks, his face the embodiment of calm and innocence, as if he doesn’t have his hand buried between my legs.
I take the side of my dress, place the length of fabric over his hand and forearm, and look back toward the mass of guests. Two can play this game.
“I wonder,” he says quietly as his finger reaches my naked core and presses onto my clit. “Will they find our sitting arrangement proper?”
I take a deep breath and open my legs slightly, thankful for the table hiding us from view.
“You know, I’ve noted at least twenty men undressing you with their eyes since we got here,” he whispers, and suddenly, his finger enters me. “I don’t like that, Bianca.”
As his finger deftly plays with my pussy, my breathing gets faster, and it becomes harder to keep my face expressionless. I can’t believe I’m sitting in front of two hundred people with Mikhail’s finger inside me. Or how damn good it makes me feel. Oh God, a waiter with a tray full of desserts is coming in our direction. I grab Mikhail’s forearm and start tugging at his arm, but he ignores me completely and teases my clit with his thumb.
“I am a very jealous man.” His finger curls, causing me to bite my lip to suppress a moan. “I don’t deal well with other men ogling my wife.”
The pressure building between my legs skyrockets.
“No one is allowed to look at you, Bianca. Just me.” He pinches my clit, buries a second finger inside of me, then moves it deftly in a stroking motion against my walls. The waiter is getting closer, but instead of stopping, Mikhail picks up the pace. Just when I think I’m going to lose it, he presses firmly onto my clit and I come all over his hand.
I am still feeling the aftershocks when the waiter arrives at our table.
“No, thank you,” Mikhail says nonchalantly and looks at me. “Do you want something?”
I quickly shake my head. The moment the waiter turns his back to us, I grab my wine glass and empty it. I can’t believe he did that. Here.
“We should go to parties more often,” Mikhail says and takes a napkin from the table. Reaching under my dress, he starts cleaning me up.
“You are insane,” I sign.
Mikhail only shrugs and nods toward the entrance. “Your family is here.”
I watch the group entering the grounds. Her father is first, with Bianca’s mother on his arm. They’re both impeccably dressed, and the only thing standing out is a bandage around his right hand. The letter opener obviously did significant damage since it’s been three weeks. When Bruno notices us, his steps falter for a second, and he sends me a look that could scorch the grass under my feet. I lift my glass in his direction, enjoying the angry look spreading over his face. Bianca’s older sister, Allegra, follows behind her parents with her spine ramrod straight, and her head held high like she owns the place. Milene is last, walking hand in hand with another girl her age. They’re laughing, whispering, and ogling Tony, who’s leaning on one of the pillars next to the dance floor.
“Your baby sister is ogling your granny’s date,” I comment.
Bianca’s eyes go wide, and she jumps up from my lap, grabbing my forearm.
“I’ll wait here. It wouldn’t be wise for me to go near your father.” I run my hand down her arm and lace our fingers together, then look up into her whiskey-colored eyes. It’s still puzzling me, how much I enjoy touching her. “I may decide he doesn’t need his other hand, either.”
She huffs and scrunches her nose. “I’ll be right back.”
I watch Bianca hurry toward her sister, signing with her hands even before she reaches Milene. Her moves are sharp and agitated. She’s so cute when she’s mad.
“She’s really something, isn’t she?” Nonna Giulia says as she takes a seat in Bianca’s chair next to me.
“Yes.”
Milene is whispering something, and I see Bianca slap herself over the forehead, then she signs to her sister, looking very annoyed. Looks like Milene wants to hire Tony for her birthday, as well.
“You two are a strange pairing, my boy,” Giulia says. “I always expected her to end up with one of the dancers from her company, or maybe an artist. Someone . . . easygoing. I thought she would need someone less . . . hard.”
I don’t comment, because I’m sure she’s not wrong.
“I married six times, you know?” she continues. “Everyone thinks I’m a little bit wacky in the head . . . the crazy Giulia who changes her husbands like they’re socks. But I was just trying to find a man who would look at me the way Vitallo, my first husband, looked at me.”
“And how would that be?” I ask.
“The way you look at my Bianca. Like you would lay your body over a field of burning coals, so she could cross it without burning her feet.”
I appraise the woman silently. Nonna is not as crazy as people think, and much more attentive than I gave her credit for.
“Bianca is different around you, you know,” she continues. “There were only two boyfriends before you. She was never really into dating, even when she was Milene’s age. But boys were always drawn to her. Allegra hated her for it.”
“She’s her sister, how can she hate her?”
“Never underestimate the power of a woman’s vanity. It got worse after Marcus. Oh, Allegra really lost it. She had her eyes on him for years. He was a good catch, the son of the real estate mogul. But Marcus only had eyes for Bianca. He and Bianca got together, and not even a month later he told Bruno he wanted to marry her.”
Deep anger starts building inside of me just with the barest idea of Bianca being married to someone else.
“Bianca said no and broke up with him.” Giulia shrugs. “I didn’t understand it then, they seemed like a nice couple. But I understand now.”
I turn toward her and cock my head. “What, exactly?”
Nonna sighs and shakes her head. “He still has one eye left, but he’s blind as a bat anyway.”
I see Bianca signing something to Milene. When she kisses her sister and turns to walk in our direction, a man approaches her and starts telling her something. He’s in his late twenties, blond, and based on the way he’s speaking to her, they know each other very well.
“Speak of the devil.” Giulia tsks next to me. “Marcus Kuch himself. He never really got over Bianca rejecting him and . . .”
I don’t hear the rest, because the moment I see the asshole put his hand on Bianca’s upper arm, I spring to my feet and head toward him while a murderous rage starts consuming me.
I manage to convince Milene she cannot hire Nonna’s gigolo for her next birthday and head back to our table when Marcus appears in front of me. We didn’t break up on the best of terms, but I have nothing personally against him, so I stop for a moment, intending to be polite.
“Is that him? Is that the monster they married you off to?” He gets in my face. “Is it true he bought you from your father, like people are saying?”
I am so shocked by his words, I can only stare at him.
“Allegra told me he’s keeping you like some prisoner in his home.”
What the hell? I’m going to kill her.
“Is it true he’s beating you, Bianca?”
I can’t listen to this crap anymore, so I turn to leave only to see my husband coming toward us with murder written all over his face.
Mikhail passes me, wraps his hand around Marcus’s neck, and yanks him close enough that they’re nose-to-nose. “How dare you touch my wife!” he sneers through his teeth.
I groan inwardly and duck under Mikhail’s arm to insert myself between them, placing my palms on my husband’s chest and shaking my head. Mikhail looks at me, then at Marcus, and starts squeezing his neck. He’s going to strangle him. I try pulling on Mikhail’s arm, but he tightens his grip while Marcus tries to pry his fingers away and fights for breath. Everyone stares. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! I raise onto the tips of my toes and hook my hands around Mikhail’s neck.
“Mikhail,” I say, hoping that hearing my voice will shake him from his anger. “Please.”
He looks down at me and holds my gaze for a few seconds, then looks back at Marcus. “If I see you near my wife again,” he barks and lets go, “you’re dead.”
As expected, Marcus turns on his heel and runs off, coughing. He was always a coward. I’m so angry at him, and if I see Allegra, I’m going to strangle her on the spot for spreading those lies.
“What did he want?” Mikhail asks.
I’m not sure if I should tell him. He already looks half-mad, and even though he’s speaking to me, he follows Marcus with his gaze, as if he plans on going after him. The crowd around us has gone utterly quiet, and everyone is looking in our direction, whispering to each other. Dear God, could people be thinking the same things Marcus said? I place my palm on Mikhail’s cheek to bring his attention to me.
“He just asked about some gossip. Forget it.”
Mikhail throws a look at the people staring at us, some of them even within listening distance, who are visibly eager to overhear our conversation.
He looks down at me. “What gossip?” he signs.
I grin. “You are so sexy when you sign, husband.”
“Don’t change the subject. I know you two were engaged.”
Oh, Nonna Giulia and her big mouth. “We were never engaged. He wanted to marry me. I said no.”
“He touched you.” Mikhail is signing so fast, I’m barely able to follow. “If he touches you again, I’m going to end him.”
“He will never make that mistake again.” I touch his chest before continuing. “There is only one man I want to touch me. No need to be jealous.”
I see the corner of his lips lift a little. That’s good.
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
We should put a stop to the idiotic rumors that Mikhail is keeping me against my will. Right away. I raise my eyebrows, grab a fistful of his shirt, rise onto my tiptoes, and lift my chin. Mikhail regards me. He’s still angry. I see it in his eye, and the way he’s gritting his teeth. I sigh and place my palms on either side of his face. My beautiful, dark husband. Can’t he see how crazy I am for him?
“Kiss me,” I utter.
His nostrils flare, and the next moment, he crashes his lips to mine. Someone gasps behind me, but I just wind my arms around Mikhail’s neck and block out everything, and everyone, else. Let the fuckers watch, we’ll give them better material for the rumor mill.
“Get a room, you two,” Nonna Giulia says, passing us by.
I smile against Mikhail’s lips.
“Good advice.” He bends, scoops me into his arms, and carries me away from the crowd.
As we reach the gate, I look over his shoulder and find most of the guests watching our retreating forms. Allegra’s face is among them, horrified. I smile and wave at her.
When we get to the car, Mikhail opens the passenger door, places me on the seat, and then just stares at me. Based on his white-knuckled grip on the door, he’s still furious. His arm shakes with the strength of his hold, and I can almost imagine the metal cracking under his grip.
“How many men have asked you to marry them so far?” he asks through clenched teeth.
I bite my lower lip, wondering how to reply. If I take his question literally, then none. But if he means how many men asked my father for my hand in marriage over the past two years, he won’t like the answer. As a capo’s daughter, I was considered quite a catch. I said no each time, of course. Half of them I haven’t even met, and most of them were Father’s business associates. Father wasn’t pleased when I systematically rejected each of his partners, but Milene was still a minor then, so he couldn’t use her as blackmail.
Slowly, I lift my right hand with three fingers up, and Mikhail’s eye widens. I bite my lip harder, then add my other hand, all five fingers splayed wide.
“Eight?” he inhales and closes his eye.
I lean forward, wrap my hand around his arm and place a kiss on his tightly pressed lips. He’s hot when he is mad.
“Make sure you never slip and tell me any of their names,” he says against my lips, then grabs the back of my neck and devours my mouth angrily, and I feel myself getting wet again. Drenched and ready. I slide my hand down his chest until I reach his crotch and feel his hard cock under the fabric of his pants. Smiling against his lips, I stroke him lightly, enjoying the strangled sound leaving his mouth.
My fingers find the top button of his pants and, without breaking the kiss, I undo it and pull down the zipper. The parking lot is empty, everyone is still at the party. But just in case, I throw a quick look over Mikhail’s shoulder before pulling out his cock. His lips go still against mine, but when I move forward on the seat and hook my legs around him, he growls.
His hands land on the inside of my thighs, then slowly move up my legs and around to grip my ass, and pull me toward him a few inches until I feel the tip of his cock at my entrance. If someone told me only a month ago I would be having sex in the middle of a parking lot, not fifty feet from two hundred people, I would have deemed them crazy. I guess I didn’t quite know myself then. Taking Mikhail's lower lip between my teeth, I wrap my hands around his neck and tighten my legs around him. A moan escapes my mouth when his hard length thrusts inside me, stretching me in the best possible way. Filling me completely. I place another kiss on his mouth, grab the side of the seat, and lean back without removing my eyes from his.
What if someone comes by? Yes, it would probably create a scandal of epic proportions, but it only makes me want this more. I smile and open my legs wider. Mikhail doesn’t look even marginally disturbed at the possibility of someone discovering us as he withdraws and then buries himself inside of me with such force all breath leaves my lungs. I moan and throw my head back, gripping the seat with all my might as he pounds into me again and again.
Chapter 15
I lean my shoulder on the pillar and watch Bianca and her mother as they try on shoes in a store across from me.
Bianca decided to go shopping with her and asked me if I wanted to tag along, but since I’m not a fan of her family, excluding Milene, I declined and sent Denis with her. There was a ton of work to be done anyway, so I planned on spending the morning in my office. It took barely an hour for me to lose it, grab my keys, and drive to the mall. I’ve been following them at a safe distance for almost three hours while they visited multiple stores and went for coffee.
I couldn’t stomach the idea of Bianca being ogled at by other men at the mall, and not being there to stop them. Every fucking second I spent sitting at my desk, I kept imagining some guy approaching my wife and openly flirting with her. It wasn’t the fact I thought she would welcome it. I know her well enough to be sure she wouldn’t. Still, the thought of some other man talking to her drives me insane. It wasn’t even a month ago when I suggested to Sergei he should visit a shrink, but now, it looks like I might be the one who needs counseling.
Bianca and her mother move to another part of the store and peruse some bags displayed on a wall, so I take a step to the side to keep them in my sight. Denis is standing by the exit, while a few paces on his left is another man in a suit, probably Chiara’s security detail. The store attendant—a male employee—approaches Bianca and tries to start a conversation with her, but she only smiles and walks away. I grind my teeth and continue watching her, trying to subdue the urge to march into the store, throw her over my shoulder, and take her away.
“You didn’t have to make a scene, you know,” my mother says as she tries one of the purses. “Everybody, and I mean everybody, talked about you two and the exit you made. It was distasteful.”
I smile, take one of the larger purses, and start admiring it. If she knew what happened in the parking lot afterward, she’d have a heart attack.
“Of course, Magda had to come over right away to tell me how this kind of thing was to be expected since you’re living with a Russian now, and they’re not as civilized as people should be. I hate that woman.” She puts the purse back on the wall rack and turns to me. “I think Bruno made a mistake by agreeing to have you marry that man. You’re too sophisticated and tender for the likes of him. Do you know what people are calling you two? The beauty and the beast. It’s fitting. I guess you two are having sex. I don’t understand how you can let him touch you.”
I gape at her for a second, then start looking through my bag for my phone. My mother’s knowledge of sign language is too limited to understand what I have to tell her. As soon as my hand grips the phone, I take it out, type, and show her the screen.
We have sex every day and I can assure you it’s the best fucking sex I ever had. As for touching, I enjoy touching my husband immensely and even more so when he’s the one doing the touching. Especially intimately. Mikhail has very skilled fingers and an even more skilled mouth. But most of all, I love when he takes me against the wall, and I usually can’t walk after that.
Her eyes widen more and more as she is reading, and then she thrusts the phone into my hand as if it burned her. “You do not speak of such things to your mother, Bianca.” She squeezes her temples and shakes her head.
I start typing again, and when I’m done, I take her hand and smash the phone onto her palm, screen facing upward.
