Why?
I lose the last of my patience, I didn’t have to come here. I’m being nice, for fuck’s sake. I hold my hand out for the phone and she frowns. “Give me the phone.”
She tentatively hands it over.
“Giuliano,” I snap. “I’m coming up. Now.”
“Fine,” he growls.
I hand the phone back to her and she listens and nods. “Yes, sir.” She gestures for a security guard and he comes over and runs a gun scanner over me and then leads me through a metal detector. I am then taken to the elevator and the guard gets in with me.
I stare at the doors as we ride to the top and I realize that I have never been in this building, not even once when my father was alive.
That’s weird, isn’t it? That a child was never brought to their father’s work.
I guess it all makes sense now, it’s crystal clear why daddy didn’t bring his little girl to the crime capital of Italy…ugh, makes me sick to my stomach.
We get to the top floor and the doors open to another swanky reception area and an office door opens in a rush. Giuliano stands there, in a black shirt and gray suit, looking every bit the crime boss that he is. He raises an impatient eyebrow and I see red, I storm past him into his office and he closes the door behind me.
“What are you doing here?” he snaps.
“I’m asking myself the same question.”
“I’m very busy today, I don’t have time for you.”
“Make time,” I growl.
I have no idea why we’re fighting but bring it on because I am ready to rumble. “What is your problem?” I put my hands onto my hips, outraged.
“You are my fucking problem.”
“Me,” I gasp.
“Yes, you. Do not come to my fucking office and demand to be let in. I won’t have it.”
I step toward him. “Listen here, you son of a bitch. Do not tell me where I can go. If I want to come to your stupid office then I will.”
Amusement flashes across his face, and he leans his behind on the desk and crosses his feet at the ankles. He grips the desk with his two hands and my eyes drop to them. Strong, tanned and covered in veins.
Hand porn, in all its glory.
He gestures to the seat. “Sit.”
For some stupid reason, my body instantly obeys his bossy demand and I find myself falling into the seat.
“What do you want?” he asks.
This was not the reception I was expecting, far from it. I grip my handbag on my lap. “I just….” I straighten my back, annoyed by his tone. “I wanted to see if you were, okay?”
“I’m fine,” he says dismissively. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“On Saturday….”
“Ah yes, congratulations.” He smiles sarcastically, “What a lovely couple you make.” He rolls his lips as his eyes hold mine. “I’m sure you’re in for an exciting life, there.”
I feel my cheeks heat as fury begins to burn in my blood. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He stands and goes and sits behind his desk, he picks up his pen. “What I said.”
“What is wrong with you?” I snap.
“Nothing. What’s wrong with you?”
I open my mouth to say something, but words fail me. “You know, I came here as a friend to check on you and I’m met with this attitude.”
“Saint Francesca.” He smiles as he rocks back on his chair. “I have enough friends.”
Our eyes are locked.
“So….” I shrug as I try to work out what the hell is going on here. “Fine. You don’t want to be friends.” I throw my hands up as I stand. “Okay then, that clears it.”
“Clears what?” he snaps. “Your conscience.”
“You know what? I was thinking about you losing your mother and was stupidly worried about you and now I see I shouldn’t have been, because you are quite happy being an entitled asshole.”
He holds the pen in his fingers and smiles as if goading me.
“Well…this is goodbye,” I say.
“Goodbye.”
“I’m going back to France.”
“Good.” He turns to his computer. “Fuck off.”
I put my hand on my hips, fully pissed now. “What is your problem?”
“You.” He hits the computer keyboard with force. “Taking up my time with your bullshit reason for a visit. If you have something to say, fucking say it.”
“You think you’re so tough, don’t you? Mr. Ferrara, head of the Mafioso.” I lean my two hands on his desk. “I came here to be nice and you are acting like a spoilt brat.”
“How am I a spoilt brat?” he fires back. “Nothing about me is spoilt.”
“What is this rudeness?” I half yell.
“Who is being rude here? You barge in, unannounced and expect a fucking greeting party. Do you have something to say or not!”
“One of your bimbos has uploaded a video of you having sex to Pornhub.”
He sits back, instantly silenced.
“And I came here to tell you about it before you bring the family name into more disrepute than you already have.”
He turns to his computer and types in his code. “What’s the name of it?”
“Sinita.”
His eyes rise to mine and amusement flashes across his face. “And may I ask, what would the angelic Francesca Ferrara be doing on Pornhub?”
Oh crap.
“I was told about it, by a friend,” I stammer guiltily.
“Marso?” He raises his eyebrow.
“His name is Marcel,” I snap.
“What a stupid name,” he mutters under his breath as he types. He brings up Pornhub and then types the word Sinita into the search bar, he enlarges the screen and then leans back on his chair, the vision of him hard and oiled up with the two women comes up on the screen, his eyes flick to meet mine. “Did you watch this?”
“No,” I spit way too fast.
He turns the screen toward me. “Liar.”
His hard cock is right there in my face, and two women are fawning over his oiled-up naked body, I begin to feel unhinged. “You need to get this taken down immediately. It’s disgusting, and morally wrong,” I stammer in a fluster.
He smiles and then chuckles, before tipping his head back and laughing out loud.
“You think this is funny?” I gasp, indignant.
“Francesca, you kill me.” He chuckles. “This is probably one of the most angelic things I’ve done.”
I frown, what?
Who are you? I don’t even know him anymore.
Our focus goes back to the screen and the two women are now taking turns sucking his dick, he smiles darkly as he watches and then his eyes rise to meet mine. “Did you come when you watched it?”
“No.” I snap. “As if.”
A million times.
“On your fingers or a dildo?”
Arousal begins to sweep through me. “Stop it.”
“Hmm.” His eyes stay glued to the screen. “Tell me, how many fingers does it take now? One like the good old days or do you come harder with a good fisting?” He smiles darkly as if imagining it. “I must say, there is nothing hotter than a woman fucking your whole fist.”
What the hell? Who even says that? I begin to feel a slow heated throb between my legs.
“Stop it, you animal,” I whisper, acting disgusted.
But I’m not, not even close.
He smiles and turns his attention back to the screen; the blond girl is now flicking her tongue over the end of him as his eyes roll back in his head. “That…tongue,” he murmurs, distracted. “Tongues,” he corrects himself.