the room. I wanted to scream out at the maddening pain, at the insane pleasure, but I kept it locked inside, waiting for the right time to unleash every ounce of desire he had freed inside of me.
After the trip, we spent our days between Milan and Como.
Corrado wanted the house furnished, so we spent time choosing pieces that seemed to fit us as a couple in the city.
In Menaggio, we spent time on the Vaporina, exploring the lake by boat. We visited all of the quaint villages set around the water. We spent hours hiking up the mountains, finding obscure old churches and other places that took some breath and muscle to find. During these times, we became familiar with restaurants and the staff, finding that we had “our” places while we were there.
Corrado even taught me how to drive the Vaporina, and even though I caught on right away, sometimes I pretended not to know what he was talking about. He would put his arms around me and help me steer whenever I did.
I loved watching him drive the most. Especially in the evenings when the sun was starting to sink into the water and the world around us turned shades that were hard to describe in words. I would wrap my arms around him, setting my head on his shoulder, and we would watch together as the stars came out. He would kiss my head, letting his lips linger, and it was one of the most intimate things I had ever felt.
I found that my husband could be as romantic as he was ruthless.
“Your body is mine to pleasure,” he had said in the shop. “But other times, I am going to make you beg for mercy.”
No truer words had ever been spoken from his mouth, and I turned to the side, staring at my reflection in the mirror, wondering which version of me he would get tonight. The woman who inspired his romantic side or the one who teased his wild side?
The necklaces he bought me in Milan complimented the dress I had hoped to surprise him with. I slid my fingers against the one around my throat, remembering how it had bit into my skin when he was fucking me against the mirror.
I sighed, straightening, admiring how gorgeous the gold fabric was against my skin. The dress showed off my shoulders, and the sequins danced under the soft lights in our bathroom. I had put my hair up because he liked to take it down.
Movement from the corner of my eye made me jump a little. Then I put my hand over my throat, smiling, but my heart raced. Not from the scare, but from him. His tux was black and his tie gold—it enhanced the color of his eyes. They glowed dark amber against his black hair and tan skin.
He was careful that he did not step on the hem of the dress as he came closer to me, slipping his hands over my hips. “You finally bought something on your own,” he said.
I smiled. “The day we went to Milan. I wanted to surprise you.” I fixed his tie, even though it was straight. “Grazie, mio marito.”
“What are you thanking me for?”
“For all of this—” I gestured with a hand around the bathroom, even though I meant the entire house. “For the clothes. For you. For everything.”
“I’m actually a selfish bastard,” he said. “I didn’t buy the clothes for you. I bought them for me.”
I looked up at him, confused.
He grinned. “So I can see you in them.”
“And take them off?”
“Guaranteed,” he said.
I tapped at his tie. “Will you tell me where we are going now?”
“You’ll see soon enough.” He offered me his arm and I took it.
A car I had never seen before was waiting for us. It was all black, even the windows, and it had the name Bugatti on the back. Adriano stood close by, keeping guard.
Corrado opened my door and helped me in.
A second later he took off, and I looked behind us. “The other men are not coming?” Usually it was a cavalcade.
“No. Only Adriano and Nunzio tonight. The place we’re going has enough security. The Faustis will be there.”
“Ah,” I breathed out, and then looked out of the window. I was familiar with the Fausti famiglia.
Amadeo was close to them, and usually, whenever he was around, so were they. After Amadeo’s grandfather’s funeral, Rocco Fausti was one of the reasons I had decided to leave. He was