Page 15 of Corso DeLuca
“I’ll know,” he hisses.
“So, you’re a gentleman, a soldier, and a prince.”
My zinger is loaded with sass, but it’s a revelation for me. He’s trying to protect me… from him.
Before meeting Corso, I never envisioned that a DeLuca would place himself in harm’s way to save someone else. Or that he’d place my feelings above satisfying our fleshly desires. There’s a lot I’m discovering like that college education listed in his case file was a medical degree.
He gives a humorless smirk. “Even villains are heroes for someone, princess.”
That’s all he says before diving in the bath and disappearing under the wall of water, leaving me alone to find my way. Corso glides through the ripples, his muscles working to propel him forward. Every part of him is powerful—long arms, toned torso, sculpted thighs and calves. He looks at home here, a hidden masterpiece among a priceless collection.
I find the showers. Yes, there’s more than one. How many women does he entertain? I imagine one bimbo in each of the three smaller stalls. I opt for the largest because it has a built-in bench. Sliding the door, I step down and sigh. The tiles are heated and… there’s toiletries on the teal caddy.
Corso thought of everything. Even the silky clothes have those fancy wide Geisha cuffs to accommodate my bandaged arm and shoulder. Well… I prefer to sleep bare as the day I entered the world—naked in, naked out.
I step under the water, let the deluge soak me from head to toe, wishing it was him.
A cop jones-ing for a criminal… what is happening to me? I muse. Corso DeLuca happened, the universe answers.
SIX
Corso
Jessie is unlike any woman in the law enforcement or mafioso I’ve ever encountered. She’s stubborn, judgmental as shit, but she’s also willing to stretch and change. It’s hard as fuck, my dick included, to resist her pull. Even now, seated in a DeLuca insignia chair at my pedestal dining table with her smock on backwards, she’s an eloquent addition. With her hair twisted in a frizzy knot on top of her head and the kimono style blouse draped over her beautiful breast creating a cape. There’s a sliver of skin showing below the one snap holding the material closed at her neck. She looks delicious. And her scent, fresh lemon and warm honey, has me biting my lip. Lifting her arm parts the cape down the center, giving me an eyeful of plump swells.
“How am I supposed to eat without flashing you my boobs?”
“Why would you deprive me of an appetizer?”
Color creeps up her neck, blooming a rosy pink in her cheeks. I bite back a smile.
“Suggestion. The snap closure might work better at your back.”
“Oh shoot, I knew that.” She leaps to her feet, darting around one of two thick marble columns flanking the rectangular space. “Give a sec, I’ll fix it.”
“Right,” I drawl, as she retakes her seat. Behind her, I give her chair a push, moving her closer to the adjacent seat, my place at the head of the table. “I like the other view better.” I whisper.
“Pervert.”
I nip her earlobe in retaliation, sucking gently on the tender tissue to ease the sting. “You like it.”
Joseph stands as a statue by the door, watching us with a scowl on his face. My longtime friend and bodyguard doesn’t like alphabets-FBI, DEA, ATF. They can all KHA-kiss his ass. Normally, I would agree with him, but Jessie is the exception. Greg would’ve known if she were in a politician’s or a mafioso’s purse. Not that I trust any man’s assessment above my own. What’s most enjoyable is how Jessie is opening herself up to me. It’s an experience I want to claim as solely mine. I won’t allow anyone, even my security, to styme her conversations between the two of us.
“Joseph, enjoy your evening.”
“But…”
“Good night.”
Interpreting people’s motives is one of my many skills for the family—especially since my cousin Enzo stepped up to lead the business after my grandfather’s assassination. Lots of conversations flow in and out of The Governor’s doors. The DeLucas have full access to my information network. It’s my job to separate fact from fiction, help the head prioritize his actions for the good of the entire family. I’m not quite sure how Jessie being here fits into the narrative. But Greg knew of her connection to the Espositos. And mine.
“Joseph doesn’t like me,” she whispers, a giggle escaping.
From the credenza, I pile penne pasta with sun-dried tomatoes and Italian sausage, beef medallions with fingerling potatoes, and lobster with a red wine reduction sauce on her plate.
“Correction. He doesn’t trust you.”
“Hey, what’s with the carb loading?” I joke. Honestly, I love my body, thick chick and all. Sure, there are some who jab with their body mass index BS. My reply, those fucking charts were charted based on data from nineteen-year-old European boys physically conditioned by the military, not for a black woman.
