Taken_ A Dark Mafia Romance - Piper Stone Page 0,63

the expensive bottle of wine he’d insisted on opening, making certain my glass was full at all times.

He was doing what my friends would call a full court press and I wasn’t certain why. For all practical purposes, there was no choice in whether or not I accepted his hand in marriage. He and I both knew we’d been backed into a corner. I huffed just thinking about it.

There was something within Matteo, a darkness that had nothing to do with the Taglioni mafia dude searching to find me.

Whatever he was hiding was very private but woven so tightly around his throat that I knew one day it would strangle him.

I watched him for a few minutes as I sipped my wine, wondering what he was thinking about. The sight of the gun never far out of his reach was foretelling enough, the ominous tones ones I wasn’t used to. Did my father have a weapon stashed away in his drawer of the home office? Yes. I’d found it many years before while snooping for Christmas presents. However, I’d never seen him hold the piece in his hand or take it when going out.

Perhaps I hadn’t been that observant.

Matteo had said there were always threats to the community members, as if our life was always on the edge of a cliff and with one wrong move, everything would come tumbling down. Maybe it should.

The fresh ocean air from the open door was invigorating, the light breeze causing the candles to flicker. This was the most comfortable I’d been in a long time, what a real vacation was supposed to feel like.

Only we weren’t on vacation. We were hiding out from an unseen enemy who wanted to capture and take me to some unknown destination.

Exactly as Matteo had done.

Sighing, I moved back to the stove, stirring the marinara sauce I’d made. Whoever had opened up the place, making the various purchases, had thought of almost everything. Just the simple act of making dinner had allowed me to slide into a place of peace. We were merely pretending, but I actually found myself enjoying the time alone with him. Even the smell of garlic wafting in the small kitchen was a normalcy that I desperately needed.

If only life could be like this all the time.

I felt his presence behind me and bristled for no other reason than I never knew what to expect with him. The spanking had been an oddly cathartic moment, almost as if I was giving into his authority.

His domination.

I couldn’t shake the strange sensations that had left me riddled with guilt and shame. I’d refused to date any men who remotely seemed controlling, preferring the easygoing kind. And where had that gotten me? I’d never been happy. Not once. Was I just programmed like my mother and all the other women within the community?

As he crowded closer, the scent of him overpowered the delectable aroma of spaghetti sauce and fresh bread. My entire body tingled and he hadn’t touched me, my mouth watering for more of his powerful kisses, his husky commands.

“Delicious,” he breathed, his hot breath cascading across my neck.

“Dinner is almost ready.”

“While I wasn’t talking about the food, is there anything I can do to help?” His tone was husky, reeking of lust.

My pussy quivered as he slid a single finger down my arm, growling in the low way he always did.

I was surprised at his question, an offer that I would never have believed he would enjoy making. “You can get the bread from the oven while I drain the noodles. There’s a cutting board and garlic butter over there. If you’d like, you can cut a few pieces and slather them with gooey goodness.”

“Gooey goodness.” Matteo chuckled under his breath. “That I think I can handle.”

I turned to watch him, hiding behind the glass for a few seconds as he glanced at the oven, finally opening the door and grabbing a mitt. When he started to place the hot pan on a wooden surface, my eyes opened wide. “Whoa. Not on that surface.”

For a top-level executive, a man who controlled the welfare of a multimillion-dollar company, he seemed completely thrown by my statement.

I put my wine on the counter, shaking my head as I grabbed and handed him another potholder.

The expression on his face was priceless, as if caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“I don’t want you to burn anything, including yourself. Then you’ll be forced to learn whether I have a