The Filthy One

RIVER

While I’m well aware that I’ve flipped my own world on its axis by agreeing to this contract with Marco, it couldn’t have come at a better time. It’s been three days since Mr. Bobby’s funeral, and yes, it still hurts like a bitch to think about what happened, but Marco has kept me so busy, it’s kept my overwhelming emotions at bay.

Going shopping for new clothes the day after felt all kinds of wrong, but when Marco insisted we stop for an Irish coffee break, I couldn’t help but smile at the memories the drink gives me. Mixing caffeine with liquor will always be something that makes me think of the beautiful soul that was my friend. As I took my first step, I remembered his words, his spirit, and I felt like the universe was sending me a sign. A sign that it’s okay for me to carry on living, being happy, looking at the big picture. It was a proper Petal moment—which then made me feel guilty for not spending Winter Solstice with them, but they had understood what I needed to do. There’s no way in Hell I’d miss a family event like that without a good reason.

The whole Nathaniel thing is getting to me as well. For the first time in forever, I had something for myself and I fucked it all up by allowing him to walk away. I could’ve chased him, I could’ve made more effort than I have been with a small text here and there, but I just haven’t. And that’s on me. I know it makes me a shitty person, but with everything else that’s happened, some things just feel insignificant right now. Maybe when all this is over, I can pick my life back up and see what happens.

“Do you understand what is expected of you tonight?” As usual, Marco enters the bedroom without a knock or semblance of noise to warn me of his presence.

“Look pretty, smile, and worship the ground you walk on?” Sarcasm is my default mode when my insecurities get the better of me.

“Don’t be cute, River, it’s not becoming.” Asshole.

“Fine. I’m about to become the big boss man’s wife so classy, no cursing, and smiling. Is that better?” My fingers run down the silky fabric of the dress he’s laid out on the bed and I can’t help but throw some snark at him. “One thing is for sure, no one’s getting fucked, apparently.”

Every morning since being here, I’ve woken up alone. Marco still has yet to fuck me, or allow me to fuck him, and it’s starting to piss me off. I suppose I shouldn’t complain too much, as I’ve still been getting all the orgasms. At least twice a day, and at the most random times, Marco has either eaten me out or finger-fucked me to within an inch of consciousness. I haven’t needed to use my lube on the pretense of being wet at all. It’s like I’m in a constant state of arousal around this man and all he has to do is crook his finger and summon me. I have no fucking clue why my body responds to him the way it does, he’s an asshole and pisses me the fuck off most of the time, but it is what it is and I try not to look too much into it.

I’m just fulfilling my end of the contract, and if he needs to give me orgasms… who am I to stop him?

“You’ll wear the red dress I have laid out for you. Hair and make-up will be arriving in thirty minutes. Shower and wait in this room until I come for you.”

“Oh, so it does work?” Considering I’m yet to even see this man’s dick, I couldn’t resist the cum reference.

“Behave.”

“Always.” I bat my eyelashes sweetly, just catching Marco’s smirk as he shakes his head and leaves the room.

Tonight is the big Christmas Eve party—apparently, it’s a big bash thrown by the Mancini family every year—and I’m not exactly ecstatic about it. Going to all the galas and things with Tyler was something I enjoyed, but I had a lot more control. I knew what I was walking into, I had done all my research thoroughly, and I knew Tyler well enough to figure out his moods and how to handle them—usually with mindless sex. This evening, I don’t feel like I have any of that control. I can’t even pick my own fucking outfit.

“Here you go, Signorina. No Champagne.”

Luckily, I’ve got Stefano on my side with his cocktail-making magic. Somehow, he’s figured out my aversion for Champagne and created a special drink called “The Rose.” I’d bet my nest-egg he’s Marco’s “guy” because for a house manager, he knows way too much. I’d go as far as saying I’m proud, and a little jealous of all his research sources.

“What would I do without you, Stefano?” A couple of sips are all I need to boost my morale.

“Probably get into a lot of trouble.” Funny guy. Although he has a point. The time spent chatting with Stefano is time I’m not getting into trouble with Marco.

Maybe.

Marco had given me a list of last-minute things to shop for yesterday—though I suspect it was just busy work to keep me out of his hair—so I decided to put my own spin on it.

I managed to pick out a box of After Dinner Willies from online to go with the coffee being served following the meal this evening. I had the choice between dicks and nipples, but the nipples were too subtle. Luca found it just as funny as Stefano and me when they arrived and I took them into the kitchen. He even promised he wouldn’t swap them out for something ‘more appropriate’ when he sends them out with the servers—like the sensible alternative of square shaped after-dinner mints. I’m well aware that it’s immature as fuck, but also fucking funny. Seeing Marco’s face this evening when he realizes what I did is what’s getting me through this shit-show.

“Probably, but you know it’s going to be epic.”

“I know nothing, Signorina. I’m leaving now.” He winks at me as he walks to the door. “Everything you need is here and someone will come up to help you get ready in just a bit.”

I toy with the idea of finding something a lot more revealing to wear, just to be a brat and fuck with Marco, but the red one is actually quite nice.

Barely out of the shower and with a soft bath towel wrapped around my still-damp body, a knock on the door drags me from my thoughts. Before I have a chance to speak or even move, the golden handle turns and in walks one of the most glamorous women I’ve ever seen. She has the same stunning gray eyes as Marco, though hers are a lot friendlier, and her dark hair falls in waves against her shoulders.

“River! Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m finally meeting you. I’ve been away for a few days with some friends, the Bahamas were calling to me. New York at Christmas is great and all that, but there’s nothing like bikinis and cocktails on the beach. I left the day my brother brought you here or I would have totally come to say hey. But I’m here now, so we can have all the girl time. It’s been so long since another woman has been in this house. It’s like testosterone city up in here half the time. Oh, I’m Madelina by the way, but you can call me Lina, I prefer it, sounds less like an old Italian lady. So, whip that towel off your head and let me see what I’m working with!”

Wow, that’s a lot to unpack. Madelina—Lina—talks a mile a minute, barely taking a breath between sentences. I get the impression she’s a little nervous and trying to overcompensate, which is something I completely understand. So I take pity on the poor thing and give her a full-on smile.

“It’s great to finally meet you too, Lina.” Not that I knew Marco even had a sister, but I don’t want to hurt her feelings by letting her think her brother hasn’t mentioned her. “You’re right about all the peen around here. It’s definitely dick central.”

She laughs, and it’s the cutest sound as the worry in her eyes decreases. “Thank God you’re not a prude. I don’t know what I would’ve done with a prude for a sister-in-law.” Placing herself on the bed next to me, she sighs and drops her eyes to her shoes—strappy golden stilettos showing off her perfectly manicured toes.