Matched to the Mafia (Seeking Curves)

“What does that mean?” I asked in a whisper. He let his fingers linger on my cheek for a prolonged second before he pulled away and straightened.

The corner of his mouth lifted as his gaze roamed over my face, no doubt noticing my flushed appearance. “Very beautiful.”

Oh God, this man definitely had a way with words that could turn me to mush.

Before anything else could be said, and before I could make a fool out of myself by sputtering words in return, red wine, warm, fresh bread, and an antipasto platter with different kinds of meats, cheeses, and vegetables were set in the center of the table.

I felt myself relaxing further as the conversation started on neutral ground, with me talking about my family and upbringing, my likes and dislikes, and what I saw for myself and my future. And the entire time, Enzo was attentive and focused only on me. I wanted to ask about him and the rumored ties to the mafia, but the evening was going so well I didn’t want to ruin it. There’d be time for that, time for all the questions… and truths to come out. I wouldn't wait to find out. I couldn't. I had to know what and who I was getting involved with.

And that was important, not only for practical, obvious reasons, but also because I knew without a doubt that if I let myself, there was no way I wouldn’t fall hard for this man.

And that scared me more than anything else.

5

Enzo

The meal I shared with Bianca had been one of the best, most easygoing nights I’d had in a very long time. She was smart and articulate, her voice holding this sweet, soft cadence to it that drew me in and had me wanting a hell of a lot of things I shouldn’t—things I didn’t deserve.

She was quiet while she sat beside me as I drove her home. That was the last thing I wanted to do: take her home. I’d much prefer to drive right to my penthouse, to slowly strip her out of that dress and reveal her curves and beautiful body.

I started getting hard and shifted on the seat, my hands tightening slightly on the steering wheel so I didn’t reach down and adjust myself and make it known I was sporting an erection.

But when Bianca cleared her throat, started fidgeting with the edge of her dress, and kept glancing in my direction, I knew she had something to talk about. To ask me.

My arousal took a backseat as I waited patiently for her to say what was on her mind. I was sure she’d heard things about me at Seeking Curves—about what I did and who I was associated with.

Because even if people feared you, were afraid of the power you wielded, they talked. They ran their mouths and made others fearful. And I didn’t mind, because it kept others in place, let them know who was at the top and who they needed to be wary of.

Fear had people falling in line, outsiders as well as associates within The Family.

Although I’d never admitted to any illegitimate associations, it wasn’t a secret about my organized crime ties, especially in the media.

But she stayed silent, and I didn’t press. I knew she probably had whatever she wanted to ask on her mind all evening, and I was mildly surprised she hadn’t said anything during dinner. Although I was pleased by that fact.

Enjoying a meal with Bianca tonight had been extremely satisfying and pleasant, and I wanted more of these evenings. I wanted so much more. But the truth was if she’d asked about my involvement in… other things, I wouldn’t lie. To an extent, she’d know the truth. And that would have definitely put a dark cloud over the evening.

And the only reason I wouldn’t flat-out lie about who I was and what I was involved in was for the simple fact that I had no plans on letting her go. I’d deemed her mine from the moment I saw her.

Ten minutes later, I was pulling the car into the parking lot of her apartment complex. I took a spot close to the front doors, not wanting her to walk any farther in the dark than she had to. Although I would have much rather walked her to her front door to assure she got there safely, I had a feeling she wouldn’t have cared for that on the first date. She seemed very independent, and that also made me want her even more.

I was so used to the submissive side from people when they were around me. They inherently feared me, and rightfully so. Most because they knew who I was, but others because they had a sixth sense that I wasn’t quite “right”; that danger surrounded me. They’d also be correct on that front, as well.