which is worth millions.”
“Yep, that’s the guy,” Johnny says. “He doesn’t seem to have any ties to the Lorenzo organization, but I’m going to keep digging.” What the fuck was Aria doing dating the son of a mob boss?
“All right, we need to confirm this is the same guy. Why the hell would he give Aria his real last name?”
“It might have been an oversight on his part or maybe he didn’t have anything hide.” I glare at Johnny because he knows better than that bullshit. “Yeah, I know. That sounded stupid as fuck. If he’s the son of a mob boss, he’s in deep.”
“I’m going to talk to Aria. See if I can find out anything else. We need to get into that house and get inside those safes.”
“You got it.”
I walk Johnny out of my office and head upstairs to find Aria. When she isn’t in our room—Jesus, I just referred to my room as ours—I start my search for her. I text Rome and Caesar and they both tell me they didn’t know they were supposed to be watching her. When we got home, I didn’t give them any instructions. I text them back to find her—fuck! It goes without saying they should always be watching her!
I search the first floor, kitchen, dining room, and living room, but don’t find her. I move up to the second floor, and knocking on each door, ask if anyone has seen Aria. Nobody has seen her. Just as I’m about to lose my shit, Caesar texts me a photo of Aria out back, sitting on a bench in the gardens. Even in the photo, I can see her face is red and blotchy from crying. Instead of going to check on her, I tell him to keep an eye on her. Comforting her will only make shit more complicated.
I send a group text to my employees that I’m leaving and head out to the bar. I need to get laid. A warm body underneath me will surely knock the visions of Aria out of my head, and since fucking Cecilia anymore is out of the question, picking up a woman in the bar will have to do.
I’m sitting at the bar, two scotches in, with a woman—with blonde hair as fake as her tits and tan—practically in my lap, and all I can think about is how real Aria looks in comparison. Her tits aren’t half the size of this woman’s but Aria’s are perky and real. I imagine how my hands would fit around Aria’s tits. I bet they would be a perfect handful. I look at this woman, who has her face covered in all types of makeup with her hair sleeked pin straight. Aria’s brown hair is always up in a messy bun, and her face is always clean and makeup free. Aria blows this woman away in the looks department without even trying.
Her hand glides up my thigh, landing on my dick, and I will myself to block Aria out and focus on getting balls deep in this woman. Instead, Aria’s face, blotchy and tearful, pops up and I push the fake and willing woman away. “I gotta go.”
I throw a couple bills down and leave the bar on a mission. I can’t stand the sight of Aria crying. I’m heading back to the mansion when an idea comes to me. I turn around and head into town. I stop at a store and have the associate guide me to everything I need. I remember Aria mentioning she was majoring in photography. Hopefully, a camera will put a smile on her face. Several thousand dollars later, and I’m on my way home.
It’s late and the main floor is quiet. By this time of night, members and escorts are either in private rooms, out for the night, or have gone home. I jog up the stairs, hoping Aria is in our room. I see Rome standing outside the room and nod to him. When I open the door, I find Aria curled up in bed asleep. Her iPad is still on and open to whatever book she was reading. I take it from her hands and turn it off. She stirs and her eyes flutter open.
“Hey, I must have fallen asleep reading.” She sits up and stretches, her perky tits jutting out, reminding me of my earlier thoughts.
“I bought you something.”
Aria eyes me curiously. “For what?”
“I guess… kind of an apology gift. My family…they…”
“Kind of suck,” she