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34
ARIA

"Can I come see you?" I asked Tammy. I held my phone to my ear, waiting for her response and then she let out a sigh.
"I'm not at home Aria—I'm not even in the city," she replied, and I heard a car door slam shut in the background. I ran a hand over my face, letting myself slump on my sofa. Tammy not being in the city was news to me and I pursed my lips to prevent myself from saying something that I shouldn't.
"Since when?" I asked, watching the hands on my clock ticking. It was late—around ten in the evening.
Tammy didn't answer her phone the first time I called and I decided to give my apartment a spring clean. I showered, read a few chapters of a romance novel and made myself a chicken and vegetable stir-fry.
By the time I was done, Tammy returned the call and we proceeded to have a lengthy conversation about everything.
"Since two days ago. Elijah took me on a small vacation—just something to get my mind off things. I'm sorry for not telling you. He's been so good to me, Aria. I actually feel like...things might work out," Tammy said, and I could hear the happiness in her voice.
I smiled, thrilled to know that Tammy had been receiving the treatment that she deserves.
She spoke again, "I'm also sorry about not telling you what happened that night. It's hard to talk about stuff like that, especially when I'm the one who fucked up and went with him—"
"Tammy, no. It's not your fault. He's just a creepy asshole who has no fucking self-control. You did nothing wrong," I said firmly, making sure I got my point across. Judging from her light-hearted chuckle, I could tell that she agreed with me.
"You're right," she said, and I heard a car start. "I have to go. But it was nice talking to you, Aria. I'll see you soon,"
"See you, Tammy," I greeted, and she murmured another bye before the call went dead.
I stared at the ceiling, enjoying the quietness of my apartment. But I missed Sandro, even though it had barely been a day. He said he would see me that night, but I was starting to think that it might not happen.
I was oddly wide awake seeing that I was running on five hours of sleep. I considered calling him to ask if I should expect him or not—but decided against it and got up to pour me a glass of wine instead.
Sandro had my fridge fully stocked with everything I liked and I could just imagine big mafia men buying groceries with their guns hanging off the waist bands. To this day, I still couldn't figure out how they always got away with carrying deadly weapons. For my own sanity, I stopped questioning it.
I sat down again and picked up my book—using the bookmark to flick to the chapter where I had ended the last time I read. I crossed my bare legs, and quickly lost myself within a world of fiction.
An hour went by when a knock came from my door.
It must have been Sandro, but not wanting to take any chances, I settled my book down and called out, "Yes?"
"It's late, I know but—can I come in?" Sandro asked, his voice sounding different from usual. It alert me, and I was up to open to the door immediately. He let out a sigh when he saw me—his head dropping as if he was overwhelmed by exhaustion.
"You have no idea how nice it is to see a friendly face," Sandro murmured, and I stepped to the side to let him in.
My gaze travelled down his body, taking in the sight of him and making sure he was okay—he didn't seem like it. Sandro appeared to have had rough day—his knuckles were bloodied and his clothes were dusty.
I watched him loosened his tie, and then the first few buttons on his shirt. His expression remained stoic – and I was half expecting him to give me a kiss or a hug or anything but he turned his back to me instead.
"What happened?" I asked concernedly, shutting the door and making sure to lock it.
"I'll touch you after I shower, bellissima. I'm not mad at you, I promise. It's just...today was—fuck," Sandro ripped the tie off, and ran his hand through his already messy hair. He looked pissed, and stressed— a very deadly combination.
"Are you okay?" I asked, but it sounded stupid the second I opened my mouth. Of course he wasn't okay—I had never seen him in that state before.
"I don't know," he said honestly, and then he made eye-contact with me and I saw the stress in his eyes. "Today was terrible. One thing after another. It's never-ending, amore mio. All these fucking years and I'm still not used to it," he scoffed, shaking his head as he shrugged his jacket off. He reached behind his neck and unclasped his chain. His watch was next.
"I would be concerned if you were used to it," I said, taking my glass of wine off the table and offering it to him. He took a generous gulp—the red staining his lips just barely. When he was done, he grabbed the bottle and poured him another drink.
I had to admit—even though Sandro looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, I couldn't stop thinking about how fucking hot he looked.
"You have a point. You always have a point, bellissima. Throughout this day, all I could think about was that I'd much rather be with you, as corny as that fucking sounds," he said, and started unbuckling his pants. "Can I use your shower? I really need a fucking hug and I can't wait anymore—"
"Of course," I said, leading him to my bathroom. "You left some clothes here the last time we..." I trailed off, pushing the door open. I adjusted the water for him, knowing that he preferred it colder than I did.
When it was ready, Sandro was completely naked and stepping into the shower. I sat on the edge of the tub, not taking my eyes off him as I watched the water hit the tattoo on his back.
"And the fucked up thing is – I can't leave. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't," he said, harshly throwing some body wash on a loofer. He started scrubbing himself, still venting to me and I was glad he was.
Sandro had a lot of things he needed to get off his chest, and I was happy to be there for him. He washed the blood off his hands, and it mixed with the suds as it swirled down the drain.
"What'll happen to you if you leave? Aren't you the boss?" I asked—I was still a little uneducated on the entire mafia business, and Sandro hardly spoke about it.
"Yes, but it's not that simple—technically, the title could only be passed down to someone of blood relation and I have no idea who my family is," he explained, scrubbing the back of his neck. "But if it was up to me, I'd pack us both up and get the fuck out of here,"
I smiled at that—it was impossible but it sounded nice. "Where would you go?"
"Anywhere you'd like. Somewhere cold with pretty sunsets for you. God, what a fucking dream," he said, rinsing the soap off his skin. I thought he was done, but he started washing himself with fresh body-wash for the second time.
Sandro was making sure that he was cleaned spotless.
"Yeah, that does sound nice," I murmured, playing with the tie on my silk robe.
"I'll make that happen for you, bellissima. I don't know how but you deserve it," he said, and ducked his head underneath the water to rinse the shampoo on his hair.
"I deserve it? Sandro, look at yourself. If anything, you're the one who deserves it—" I said, and Sandro switched the water off. He was finished, grabbing one of my towels to dry his skin and another to dry his hair. He wrapped the towel around his waist, stepping out onto the bathroom mat.
When Sandro said earlier that he couldn't wait anymore, I didn't know that he meant it quite literally.
He placed his hands on my waist, lifting me off the tub and then he circled his arms around me—pulling me in for a deep and tight hug.
"I missed you so much, my beautiful girl," he whispered, giving me a kiss on the forehead.
I smiled against his chest, letting my fingertips graze down his skin. "I'm here for you, Sandro. Always,"
He shivered, letting his hands rest on my lower back. "yeah?"
"Obviously," I said softly, feeling him place his fingers underneath my chin to raise my head. His lips touched mine, but it wasn't gentle—or slow. He kissed me like he meant it, and then he pulled away all too soon.
He gave me a look, and then he licked his lower lip and I knew what I was in for. Sandro bent down, enclosing his arms around my thighs and I yelped when he flung me over his shoulder. He gave me a smack on my ass, and I gasped because it hurt—but the good kind of pain.
"It's been too long, bellissima. Don't you think?" he said, carrying me to my bed.
Yes, it was too fucking long. I missed him, in more ways than one and I was beginning to feel frustrated.
I had to bite my lip to contain my smile, knowing that Sandro needed to left off some steam and I was going to be on the receiving end.
He threw me onto the mattress, and my body bounced a few times. Whoa. My pussy throbbed instantly, and it was surprising because he barely touched me. I gasped when he grabbed my legs, roughly pulling me to the edge before my knees were spread for him.
He gave me a kiss on my inner thigh, "Be a good girl and keep these legs open for me, okay?"