Bound by Hatred (Born in Blood Mafia Chronicles 3)

I glanced around, only spotting one familiar couple, that I assumed must be part of the mob or I wouldn’t have recognized them. Apart from that, we were blissfully surrounded by strangers, who didn’t call me slut under their breaths, or looked down their noses at me. This was a straight-up social event that normal people, well normal rich people attended. I relaxed. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad.

“Come on. Let’s fill up on some Champagne. We’ll need the buzz to carry us through the boredom,” Matteo said. Luca shot him a scowl, but Matteo merely grinned and led me toward an unoccupied bar table. I grabbed a glass and took a deep gulp. That was the one good thing about living in our world; nobody gave a damn if I was of legal age to drink. The bubbles prickled delightfully on my tongue. It had been a long time since I’d had good Champagne. The last time was at Aria’s wedding.

Matteo smirked.

“What?” I asked, checking my dress for any stains.

“You look like a sophisticated lady.”

“I’m not a sophisticated lady,” I said quickly and was about to take another gulp of Champagne but stopped with the rim against my lips. With a glare, I set it down. “I’m not.”

“I didn’t say you were. I only pointed out that you look it.”

He was right. I fit in, which brought me back to my earlier problem. Why was I becoming more like a trophy wife every day? I downed the rest of my Champagne in one large gulp, not at all lady-like, making Matteo laugh, and I couldn’t help but do too. It felt good to laugh with him, and even better to see mirth banish some of the darkness in his eyes.

Miriam called for everyone to settle around the tables, and asked us to sit next to her with other important guests. Unfortunately Aria had to sit across from me, so I couldn’t even talk to her in case I got bored. I was wedged between Matteo and a woman I didn’t know. Luckily the first course was served almost immediately, so I had something to do. Miriam as well as the other women around us were more interested in Aria anyway, probably because she was Luca’s wife and knew how to do proper small talk.

Suddenly I felt Matteo’s hand on my knee. I shot him a look but he was immersed in a conversation with Luca and the host. I took another bite of my Carpaccio but stopped mid-chew when his hand began its ascend higher, toward the lacy edge of my hold-ups. I had to suppress a small shiver at the sensations his light touch sent straight to my center. I clenched my legs together and tried to focus on the conversation Aria was having with the other women. The corners of Matteo’s lips twitched in reaction. Of course that wasn’t the end of it. When was it ever?

Matteo’s fingers slipped between my legs despite my attempts to lock him out, and then his fingertips slipped under the edge of my panties and lightly stroked the crevice between my leg and vulva. I reached for the glass and took a deep gulp of the wine.

“What do you think, Gianna? Would you be interested?” asked the hostess Miriam. Her eyebrows were raised but due to all the Botox, the rest of her face was static, and her expression resembled one of mild boredom.

My eyes darted to Aria, hoping she’d help me out. I had no clue what Miriam was talking about. Matteo’s fingers had distracted me completely.

“I know you love modern art, and it’s not easy to come by a private tour through the Guggenheim. I’m sure Matteo can spare you for a few hours,” Aria said with a meaningful look.

I could have kissed her. She always saved the day. “Yes, I’d love to –” Matteo’s fingers slipped between my lower lips, gently nudging them apart, finding me wet and aching, the stupid bastard. He was still talking to Luca and the other men as if nothing of interest was going on under the table.

Aria and the other women were watching me expectantly. I cleared my throat and kicked Matteo’s leg hard, before I said. “I’d love to take you up on that offer.” Could I sound any more sophisticated? Trophy wife all the way.

Matteo’s finger traveled up my slit until it reached my clit where he started to draw small circles. I pressed my lips together to stop a moan from slipping out. Thankfully, Miriam went on another monologue about a trip to the Caribbean and I was back to pretending to listen. Only Aria gave me the occasional odd glance, as if she thought I might not be feeling well.

If only she knew. The waiters entered the room with out main course, but I hardly cared.

Without even intending to, I parted my legs a bit more, giving Matteo more room to explore my wet folds. His fingers slipped up and down, teasing my opening, before they returned to my throbbing clit. I clutched my wine glass. It wouldn’t have surprised me if I’d broken it in two from my tight grip. My breathing was shallow. Matteo kept up the slow rhythm, driving me closer and closer toward release. I should have pushed his hand away, should have stopped this madness before this turned into the most embarrassing night of my life, but need had taken over and banished any hint of reason. After a few bites of veal, I put my fork down. I was hungry for only one thing.

Matteo slipped a finger into me and I barely managed to keep in my whimper. I was getting so close. Could I even be silent?

But I was too far gone to care. Matteo still wasn’t looking at me. Instead he was completely focused on the conversation, or at least he pretended to be. I hated him for his acting talent. He brought me closer and closer, taking his time. God, this was the most delicious torture.