Chapter 19

NICHOLAS 

I told myself I could never have Giselle, but as I stared at her glistening pussy in front of me, I knew I couldn't withhold the urge to touch her.

She was soaked just from me spanking her, and I knew just one slap to her clit would have her falling apart, but I couldn't have that.

I was in a business meeting when I got her text, and to say I wasn't amused would be the biggest lie of the century, but she couldn't know that. 

This was my excuse to fill my hands with her curves while little moans escaped her parted lips.

"This is what you meant when you said I couldn't handle my wife, right?"

"No. I didn't mean it that way," she lied, humping my hand. How ironic! My little pain slut knew what she wanted, but her mouth refused to speak the truth.

"What did you mean then?" I asked, rubbing her slick folds with two of my fingers.

"You know what," she said through gritted teeth as her thighs shook with unfulfilled pleasure. "If this was about having sex with you, I could go out there and find other men to fulfill that desire."

My nostrils flared in anger. "The fuck you will." An image of another man pinning her underneath his body while he thrust into her tight, little cunt had me seeing red.

She smirked at me over her shoulder, her blue eyes showing how pleased she was with my reaction. "Does that displease you, husband? I'm only returning the…" She broke off on a moan as I slipped my fingers into her pussy, shallowly thrusting in and out of her.

"What were you saying?" I taunted.

Her eyes narrowed into slits. "Fuck you."

"I'll pass on that." There were other things I could do to her that were sure to make her come. "I'm going easy on you tonight, dolcezza. I won't be so forgiving next time."

I sighed, pulling up the foldable sun lounger before leaning back against it, slipping my fingers out of her pussy in the process. This was madness. What the fuck was I doing? "Come here." I crooked my finger at her.

She eyed me warily, leaning backward until her back was pressed against my chest. I placed my slick fingers on her bottom lips, letting her know what I wanted without saying a word. Suck.

She opened her mouth, clamping her lips around my fingers, sucking until all her juices were off my fingers.

I sighed, placing my forearm over my eyes while her chest rose and fell heavily. Her hot pussy pulsed over my cock, and I knew just how much she wanted me to fuck her.

"What were you going out for today?" I asked.

She bent to the side to pick up her shawl, covering her lower half. "Art supplies."

"Art supplies?" It was difficult to focus when her juices leaked out of her pussy, soaking the front of my pants. I had no doubt there would be a huge, wet stain on my crotch when she stood.

"Yes. Guess I'm not built to be a mafia wife." She chuckled at her joke.

"Mafia wife?"

"You know, sit down, do nothing, and just look pretty for your husbands."

I snorted even though there was truth in her words. Made men's wives weren't allowed to do any work because it reflected badly on the husbands as being incapable of taking care of the family. 

It was an outdated, unspoken rule, but I never thought I'd have a wife after Gianna's death. The thought of it never crossed my mind, but now that she brought it up, I didn't expect her to be a 'mafia wife'.

I cleared my throat. "Well, you've got half of that covered."

It was her time to snort. "If that's your way of giving out a compliment, you're failing. Miserably."

"Careful," I warned, even though my words held no real heat.

"Or what? You'll fuck me? I'm so scared."

"I just might." I wanted to. "You can't go out, Giselle."

She tensed. "Why?"

"There's a threat to this family at the moment. The wives and children are laying low for now."

"Your guards could have told me that."

"They were instructed not to look at you or talk to you."

She cocked a brow at me over her shoulder. "Why would you tell them not to look at me or talk to me?"

"Why not?"

"A respect thing again? Whatever your reason is, stop it. At least get them to talk to me. It can be annoying when I need something and they can't reply just because you told them not to."

"Hm."

I closed my eyes, feeling at ease for the first time in days. I had no leads on where Vlad could be. All my sources said they couldn't find him. It was like he'd vanished into thin air, and I knew it was only a matter of time before he crawled out of his hiding hole.

It was the when that left me on edge. When would he strike? I knew he was going to come for me again after his failed attempt to kill me in the warehouse. I couldn't let my guard down, or I'd be lying in a grave.

It was exhausting, but it was also the life I chose; the life I was born into. Now that I had a wife, I didn't put it past my enemies to try hurting Giselle. 

It could be anywhere. No matter the amount of security she had with her, it was just one slip-up, and everything was over. That was a risk I wasn't willing to take, so she was going to remain at home where I knew she was safe. It didn't matter if she liked it or not.

"I'm starving," Giselle said out of the blue.

"Sara didn't cook?"

"I told her not to come in since you weren't around. I didn't want to bother her."

I nudged her forward so she slid off my lap. "You do realize I pay these people, right?"

"That reminds me. We need a new housekeeper."

I snorted. "I wonder what happened to the last one."

She glared down at me. "Don't remind me. Lenny is a part of my life I'd like to erase."

"And here I was thinking I'd earn that spot," I mumbled to myself. I rose to my feet, and her eyes immediately went to my crotch stained with her juices.

She blushed, tugging her sweatpants on. "Where are you going?"

"To make dinner." I was also starving, and Giselle couldn't cook, so the task automatically fell on me. "Right after I change my pants." And jerk one out in the shower.

The stain on her cheeks deepened, matching the color of her hair. "Well, goodnight," she squeaked, turning on her heels.

Goodnight? Didn't she just say she was starving?

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"To bed. You said you were going to make dinner for…"

I cut her off. "Both of us."

***

GISELLE

I stared at Nicholas in disbelief as he placed a plate of shrimp and noodle stir-fry. My mouth watered from the sight alone.

"You're being weird."

"Because I cooked?" He rolled his eyes at me when I nodded. "I figured I'd do something nice after spanking you and being a little bitch." His lips tipped up in a smirk when I blushed.

He knew how much I enjoyed him spanking me, and he was rubbing it in. It was embarrassing to admit that, but it was the truth.

"On a more serious note, I didn't do it for you."

I snorted. That was the excuse he always used when he did something nice for me.

"Why are you snorting?"

"I think you're lying. You say that whenever you do something nice for me."

"I'm hungry, so I cooked. Big deal. I didn't go out of my way to do something nice for you."

"But it's more than any man has ever done for me." Usually, they just wanted to 'hit' and move on.

"Well, you shouldn't swoon over mediocrity. Any guy that has made you think you're not worth being treated like a goddess is an idiot."

"Including you?"

"I never said you weren't worth being treated like that way. I just won't be that guy for you."

Right. Because all of this wasn't an actual marriage.

"But I'm not allowed to see other men? Your logic doesn't work here, Nicholas. Plus, I wasn't swooning over you doing the bare minimum. I just thought it was nice of you, especially since you don't like me."

"I said I wanted to make you suffer. I didn't say I wanted you dead."

"Wanted?"

He smirked. "My bad. I mean want."

"Well, I'd say you're failing that task woefully since you're never here to carry out your plan." With a smile, I dug into my food, almost moaning from the way my tastebuds came alive under the burst of flavors. "Who taught you how to cook?"

He looked proud of himself. "Good?"

"Awesome. I don't think I could ever make something as good as this."

"My mother taught me."

"I thought misogyny is deep-rooted in the Family."

"It is. My father was never home, so my mom taught me during those times. I had nothing to do, and I was always intrigued by how she could make something delicious out of different ingredients. She taught me when I asked her to, even though she was at risk of getting hurt by my father."

"That's so sweet of her. Your father is an asshole."

Nicholas chuckled, but the sound was flat even to my ears. "She wasn't so lucky. My father caught us one day. We miscalculated the time he'd get home, and he found me with an apron around my waist and flour on my face. I got my first scar that day, and my mom lost her right pinky in this very kitchen. I was ten."

I gasped. How could he be so cruel to his wife and son? I could just imagine a cute, ten-year-old boy with a huge smile on his face as he frolicked around the kitchen, chopping vegetables and mixing batter.

The little boy had no care in the world. He was content and happy with his mother until doom knocked on their doorstep in the form of his father.

"I didn't tell you the story to make you cry, dolcezza," Nicholas said, making me realize a few drops of tears had slid down my cheeks. "I'm fine. My father is where he's supposed to be."

"Maybe you should have chopped his dick off before killing." Nicholas chortled. "I'm glad he's dead, and in a grave where he can't hurt you anymore. If he wasn't, I'd kill him myself."

After getting abused — both physically and emotionally — by my parents, similar stories from other people triggered anger and sympathy in me, and it could turn me from a laid-back person to a murderous person in a split second.

His brows rose in… surprise. He looked genuinely shocked by what I said. "I'm not a child, Giselle. I don't need you to protect me."

"Bullshit. Everyone needs someone to care for them. If you're always protecting and providing for your family, then who's got you when you need a break from it all? You need a shoulder to cry on now and then."

He cracked a smile. "I don't cry."

"Well, if there's any way you need to expel your bad mood, I'll be here to help." His smile turned into a smirk, and I immediately knew what he was thinking. "Not that way."

"Bummer. That's exactly how I like to expel my bad mood," he teased. 

I rolled my eyes at him. "Funny. Eat up. Lord knows how you've been feeding for the last five days."

"Care about me, dolcezza?"

I shrugged, a smile on my lips. "Maybe. Looks like we've both been through a lot in our childhood."

While my childhood was probably not as awful as his, it differed completely from Gianna's. I didn't loathe her for it, though. It was all our parents' fault.

"I know living here isn't easy for you." This house probably held a lot of traumas for him. I'd been glad when I left my parents' house. "You should change that."

He leaned back in his seat, raising a brow at me. "What are you proposing?"

"We make fresh memories here. For us. As friends."

"Friends? Can't say I've ever been friends with a woman before." He picked his glass up, taking a sip out of it. "A woman who's my wife, no less."

"This should be fun."

"Good fun or bad fun?"

I smirked at him, loving the way his eyes darkened. "I'll let you decide for yourself."