4. Aria

Chapter 4

Aria

That knife attack was not because I'm marrying Marco. As important as Franco thinks his family is, he doesn't know me or my history, and I know people are looking for me, people who want me dead.

I can't investigate, though, because Franco is with me twenty-four-seven, and my cell phone, laptop, and even my mail is being checked. I have no privacy except to go to the bathroom, and I'm sure once I'm married, I won't even have that.

Marco is terrible. He comes home smelling of cheap perfume and alcohol, and I know he's fucking his way through every woman he can. I don't know if he intends to stop once he's married, but somehow, I doubt it, and somehow, I think I'm going to land up with an STI.

Franco, on the other hand, is more conservative. I know he flirts with Claira, but I'm pretty sure he only does it to rile me up. Sometimes, I catch him looking at me with those dark eyes, and I wonder what he's thinking of. What dream is he having in that depraved mind of his? I know what men are like especially mobsters, and they think they're entitled to everything, even women.

He doesn't act that way, though. When he guides me somewhere, his touch to the small of my back is gentle, and when he speaks to me now, since the knife attack, there's a gentleness to his voice. As though he's worried about my well-being, not because I'm going to be his brother's wife but because he actually cares. I'm not sure how to handle that.

Being in the room next to his, I'm aware of our extremely close proximity, and I know Marco arranged it that way to torture Franco. He is right. He was supposed to be the one that I married. Now that I've gotten to know him over the last few days, I kind of wish he was the one I was marrying.

A wager. Marco said that Franco won a wager. Was the price me? Did he gamble me away? That doesn't say much about his character. Unless it was Marco's idea, and I can believe that. I believe that Marco would want to make a fool out of his brother by stealing his bride.

The more I think about it, the more I think I'm marrying the wrong man. It bothers me so much that I start to have nightmares about it. I wake up in the middle of the night and look around my room wildly. I can hear a grunting sound. It must be what disturbed me.

Curious, I leave my room and follow it to Franco's kind of open door. I peek in, even though I've already figured out what the sound is. I can see Franco reflected in his mirror. His head is tipped back as his hand works his cock. He grunts softly. I see him squeeze his cock as he moves his hand, and his other hand goes to fondle his balls. I feel a heat between my legs. He's larger than average and thicker. My mouth waters involuntarily as I watch his firm strokes.

"Aria," he grunts.

I bite my lip.

He's thinking of me.

He's masturbating to the thought of me.

His hand speeds up, and that wet, skin-on-skin sound fills the air. I can see a thin film of sweat building on his body.

He's panting now.

I swallow as he stops stroking, cum spurting out of his cock onto what I assume is a towel on the floor.

I hurry away back to my room and close the door as quietly as possible.

I lean against it with my back and breathe steadily. I run a hand to my chest and hold it over my heart. It's beating fast.

The wetness between my legs is still there. I can still see Franco with his hand around his cock when I close my eyes. I lick my lips and breathe heavily through my nose. I didn't know watching someone jerk off could be such a turn-on.

My hand slips from my chest to my belly, and I slide it into my panties. Gosh, I am so wet. The moment my fingertip touches my clit, I flinch. I am extra sensitive. How did I get so aroused?

I move my hand further down and dip my finger between my folds, then move it back up, smearing juices all over myself. The sensation is so good I moan out loud. Then I snap my mouth shut and spin around to look at the door .

Maybe this isn't the right place for this. I giggle and, without moving my hand from my pussy, walk to the bed. I dim the lights, slip under the covers, and think of Franco when I close my eyes. I wonder what the thick cock would feel like in me. He's so thick.

I moan again as I work my clit, using two fingers, and my hips buck involuntarily. I want more than I can give myself, but it's what I got right now. My motions become erratic, and my breathing faster as my core tightens and my orgasm rolls through me.

I stroke myself two or three more times, making myself twitch, and then I lie still, panting. After a moment, a dry chuckle escapes me. I can't believe I did that just because I watched Franco jerk off. I hope he never finds out.

With a shudder, I get out of bed and hurry to the bathroom. I strip out of my clothes and turn the shower on. Soon, steam fills the room, and I get under the water. The heat eases the tension out of my muscles, and I take my time scrubbing my body.

When I'm done, I wrap myself in the thick, fluffy gown hanging on the back of the door and go back into the bedroom. I turn on the TV and just lie in bed until I'm finally tired enough to sleep. Once the TV and the lights are off, and I've turned on my side to sleep, Franco's face floats up in my mind's eye.

"Urgh," I groan and turn to my other side.

I battle for what seems like forever to get that man out of my head, but I eventually fall asleep.

Claira wakes me far too early in the morning, and I pull the blanket over my head when she opens the curtains in my room .

"It's morning. Breakfast is ready in the dining room."

"I'm coming," I mumble from under my blanket, but I don't know if Claira stays to hear it.

When I pop my head out, the maid is gone. I don't know what her problem is with me, but I'm happy to avoid her whenever possible. She's disrespectful.

I go to the bathroom to brush my teeth, then find some clothes. I never know what to wear in this house. They all dress so smart, but I don't really go anywhere. I pull on my favorite blue jeans, a white blouse, and a cream cashmere sweater. I add a plain gold necklace and stud earrings. A hint of makeup completes the look.

As I approach the dining room, a woman arrives from the other side. She smiles at me as we meet by the door.

"Good morning, Aria. It's so nice to finally meet you. I'm Giulia Morelli." She holds out her hand, and I shake it. Her grip is firm and warm.

"Nice to meet you, Giulia," I reply, a little taken aback by this gorgeous and outgoing young woman. She has her brothers' dark hair, but her eyes are lighter, kinder, and intelligent. She has a body to kill for, dressed in what I guess are designer clothes.

"How was your night?" Giulia asks.

It's a simple enough question, and one that anyone would ask in the morning, but I immediately blush. I can't get what happened last night out of my head. Franco's cock hovers in my memory, and I clear my throat before I can answer her .

"Fine, just fine. Are you going to breakfast?"

Guilia hooks her arm through mine. "Yes, come on. I'm sure Franco is waiting. I'm so happy you're here. I'm sure we're going to be great friends."

I want to groan at her enthusiasm, but Giulia pulls me along through the white double doors into the spacious dining room. Franco is already seated at the long table, reading something on his phone. He sets it down as we enter and smiles at us.

"About time. I'm starving," he says, his eyes on me.

I wriggle free of Giulia and go around the table to sit on the opposite side of Franco. Giulia comes to sit beside me. The table is laden with things—as it is every morning—but today, there are bowls of fruit as well.

Claira comes in as I reach to pour myself a coffee, and she gives me a withering look. I hesitate, wondering if I should have waited for her to pour it for me. The maid sets a steaming bowl of oats in front of Franco and proceeds to ignore me, so I continue with my coffee.

Dishes clink as everyone dishes up their food. Giulia helps herself to bacon, eggs, and sausage, while Franco goes for the oats, which he mixes with milk and sugar and then adds a generous amount of blueberries.

"I love blueberries," I say before I can stop myself.

Franco looks up at me with a genuine smile. "They are my favorite," he admits .

"Mine, too," I mumble, suddenly not so sure why I opened my big mouth.

"Aww, you see?" Giulia gushes. "You two have something in common. It's perfect."

Franco and I both glare at her as she beams and then sticks another forkful of food in her mouth.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Franco asks.

Guilia shrugs but doesn't answer as she chews her mouthful.

I look down at my plate of toast, a fried egg, and a selection of fruit. I sip my coffee and eat in silence for a while as Franco and Guilia exchange laden glances. Things have gotten very awkward all of a sudden.

Claira comes and goes several times with fresh coffee, more fruit, or to take dirty plates away, but she's hardly a distraction. Franco finishes his oats and wipes his mouth on a napkin. His 5 o'clock shadow seems more pronounced this morning, or maybe that's just my imagination.

I look away and concentrate on my food. I know how to act aloof or calm and collected, but Franco somehow gets under my skin. I swear my panties are wet just sitting here at the breakfast table, stealing glances at him.

What the hell is happening to me? I take a deep breath, but when I look up through my eyelashes, Franco is watching me. I nearly choke on the piece of pear I just put in my mouth.

Giulia thumps me on the back. "Are you alright?" she asks.

"Yeah." I cough. "Yeah, all good. "

Franco chuckles across the table, but he doesn't say anything. I glower at him but return to my food and finish it quickly. Giulia discusses some business with Franco for a moment, and I sit very still to listen. I'm not sure she's supposed to discuss business in front of me.

It's not something of great consequence—some of the dryers at the laundromat need to be repaired—but the fact that Franco allows his sister to discuss it in front of me makes me wonder. As far as they know, I know nothing of their world. And I shouldn't be privy to conversations about business. Well, at least not until I officially belong to the family.

The discussion soon ends, and they talk about what's happening for the rest of the day.

Franco leans back in his chair. "I have a job to do for Marco, so I'll be out this afternoon," he says. "So I can't be here when the confectioners come for the cake testing."

I realize he's speaking to me, so I look up. Our eyes meet, and I think he looks disappointed.

"Confectioners?"

"Yes." He grins. "They specialize in fancy cakes and confections. I'm sure you're going to love what they have to offer."

"No expense spared, I see," I mumble more to myself than as a reply.

"Marco wants you to have the best," Franco says.

Giulia grunts, somewhat unladylike, and I giggle. Franco glowers at us .

"Thanks, Franco. I'm sure I'll find the perfect wedding cake."

He looks at me for a long moment. I keep my face neutral, not at all matching the snide tone I used to answer him.

He sighs. "I must go. Marco is expecting me. I'll see you later." He gets up, pockets his phone, and leaves the room without a backward glance.

"I must also go. I have an appointment," Giulia says. "But I'll see you later, okay?"

I force a smile. "Okay."

I remain seated for a while once they're gone, and loneliness fills me. How did I get here? Would I change it if I could go back? I raise my chin and leave the table. I'm strong. I can do this. Even if tears threaten the corner of my eyes.

*