Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
The regular crowd is gathered on the gallery. My stomach sinks when I spot Elena and Raphael with Luigi and Giorgio.
Saverio tenses next to me, but when I look at him, his features are schooled.
Dante comes up behind us. “I’m getting drinks.” He pats Saverio on the shoulder. “You’re going to need one.”
Saverio pulls me under his arm and leads me to the small group of people who turn their heads in our direction. Like one man, their gazes drop to my stomach.
I push out my chin and let them look. I have nothing to be ashamed about. Something like pity flashes in Elena’s eyes when she finally lifts her face with a sour smile.
“Ah, here’s the happy couple,” Luigi says.
His raspy voice grates on my ears.
“Congratulations,” he says, taking my hand and kissing the back.
Revulsion ripples through me. It takes every bit of willpower I possess not to yank my hand from his clammy clasp. Thankfully, he sets me free quickly.
“Cheers.” Raphael raises the glass of champagne in his hand. “Another wedding to look forward to.” Lifting the glass to his lips, he says, “Aren’t they so much fun?”
Elena’s back goes stiff.
“Can we see the ring?” Giorgio asks.
“Not before it’s on Anya’s finger,” Saverio says with a flat smile.
“I’ll return your wrap with Raphael,” Elena says sweetly. “I haven’t had time yet.” She bats her eyelashes at Raphael. “I’m still on honeymoon. Of course, the real honeymoon will be in the Maldives this summer.”
A muscle ticks under Raphael’s eye when he smiles at her.
Dear God. How many hours of this must we suffer?
Dante returns with a brandy for Saverio and a mocktail for me.
“Strawberry daiquiri,” he says. “Sav told me you like strawberries.”
He told Dante that? “Thank you, Dante.” I shoot Saverio a surprised look.
The conversation turns to honeymoon destinations, but I only listen with half an ear. There won’t be a honeymoon for us. First of all, our relationship isn’t romantic. Secondly, it may be difficult to be on honeymoon with a newborn baby. Saverio made it clear he wanted to get married before the birth, and if I don’t give him a date soon, he’ll pick one for me.
I lean on the balustrade to take my weight off my feet and look at the floor below. Waiters carrying trays of champagne and finger food weave around the people. The music is soft enough to allow for conversation. The elevator doors open, and then a tall woman with black hair hanging sleekly down her back enters. It’s impossible not to notice her with the golden dress that clings to her body. Shifting a matching clutch bag under her arm, she makes her way upstairs with swaying hips and heads straight for our party.
Like everyone else, she sweeps a gaze over me, pausing on my stomach. I glance at Saverio, but he doesn’t bat an eye.
When she reaches the group, she kisses Luigi on the cheek. “Hello, Papa.” She takes a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. “The traffic was a bitch.”
“Where’s Archie?” Elena asks.
Dante looks at Saverio, but he stands stoically next to me.
“He couldn’t make it.” She waves a manicured hand. “He’s got a cold or something.”
“Want to go for a walk?” Saverio whispers in my ear.
I shoot him a grateful smile.
Intertwining our fingers, he says, “Anya and I are going to say hello to our guests.”
He pulls me behind him to the other side of the gallery, but instead of taking the stairs, he slips down the corridor that leads to the offices.
“What are you doing?” I whisper when he goes into the lounge where the staff take their breaks.
He pushes me inside and locks the door.
“Saverio,” I exclaim when he takes my clutch bag from my hand and chucks it on a chair. “You have guests waiting.”
“I don’t care about those people. I have no desire to spend time with them.” He advances, forcing me deeper into the room. “The only person I want to spend time with is you.”
My backside hits the sofa.
He unbuckles his belt and pops the button of his pants.
“You can’t be serious,” I say with a nervous laugh.
He takes a cushion from the sofa and throws it on the floor at his feet. “Come here.”
My mouth goes dry when he pulls down his zipper and takes out his cock.
“This is all yours, tesoro.” He pumps his length in a fist. “Come and take it.”
Just like that, liquid heat gathers between my thighs. The party and why we’re here are forgotten as I watch him stroke himself. The sight is so erotic that an ache blooms at the center of my legs, my clit pulsing with need.
I straighten and go over on shaky legs, holding his gaze as he offers me a hand. When I put my palm in his, he helps me to kneel. I lock my fingers around his thick length, reveling in how hard he is and how velvety and hot his skin feels. He grips the root and brushes the crest over my bottom lip, wetting it with the precum that leaks from the tip. I flick out my tongue to taste him. He watches, the cold blue of his eyes heating with desire and need.