Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Aemelia looks around, her chin high as always, her expression surprised, then she turns to me. “Here? This is where we’re going to stay?”
“The Plaza was fully booked.”
She rolls her eyes. “Is there a vacuum at least? I’ve never seen dust so thick.”
“Are you offering to clean up for us?”
“I’m offering to help. We’ll get allergies.”
Luca and Antonio enter through the back door, carrying bags. They’re followed by four men from Antonio’s crew. The older two look unfazed, having been through this before. The younger ones? Much less excited to go to the mattresses.
Antonio seems unable to keep the grim expression from darkening his features, even though Luca encouraged us to keep things light. We don’t want to scare Aemelia by telling her of this outside threat. She has enough to deal with worrying about the threat we pose to her.
She’s still our prisoner, after all.
One thing is certain—Aemelia won’t have her own room. I smile, already foreseeing her reaction and the chance it will give me to get closer to her.
“Let’s see,” I say, gesturing to the stairs. “Go up.”
She moves past me, her hips swaying slightly. I’m not used to going this long without pussy, so my body is hungry. But that’s not the only reason I’m fixated on her. Aemelia has the rare ability to surprise me, and I like it more than I should.
Upstairs, the situation isn’t much better. The mattresses are old and bare and have seen better days. She wrinkles her nose. “We have sheets, right?”
“Of course.”
I dump the bags on a mattress and toss my jacket on top. Aemelia drifts toward the window, but I block her way before she gets too close. “Stay away from the windows, gattina.” Her eyes dart to me, then back to filthy glass. “You don’t know who’s out there.”
She presses her hand to the hollow of her throat before dropping it. “We better get cleaning.”
Downstairs, the house hums with activity. Antonio has his sleeves pushed up, ready to unpack the bags of food lined up on the counter. At least with him around, we won’t starve while we’re holed up in this dump. I start rummaging through cabinets for anything resembling cleaning supplies and discover an old dustpan and brush, a few ratty cloths, and a vacuum that looks like it belongs in a museum.
Aemelia, dressed in black leggings and a fitted sweater, glances down at her expensive attire. “I’d change if I had anything older and less expensive to wear.”
“Don’t worry. Clothes aren’t an issue if money isn’t an issue.”
She nods, and I consider that this might be the first time she hasn’t had to worry about where the next outfit or meal is coming from. A girl like Aemelia should never have to serve others.
She twists her long, glossy hair into a neat bun, securing it with a band from her wrist. Then she takes a cloth and starts cleaning. There isn’t much furniture, but once she’s wiped those surfaces down, she crouches to tackle the baseboards, and I catch every man in the place staring at her ass.
Luca, who's probably never lifted a finger for housework in his life, eyes the vacuum like it’s a foreign object. “How do you get this thing working?”
I smirk. Has Aemelia Lambretti achieved the impossible and domesticated the boss of this family? Is that how much he wants to get in her cunt?
Man, this is fucked up. Antonio’s already licked his way to half a claim on her body, but what does that matter? We’re not proposing marriage here. Best-case scenario, Carlo comes back, and we set Aemelia free. She leaves, and we all go about our business. Worst case? We’re forced to do something none of us wants to do.
Her virginity is still a bargaining chip. We cannot take it from her without losing leverage. But there are many other things we can take. Many places on her body to taste.
“Plug it in,” I tell Luca, watching as he awkwardly fumbles with the cord. The vacuum roars to life, belching out a cloud of dust before revealing a clean streak on the floor beneath it. Luca nods, satisfied, and keeps going as I stifle my laughter.
I meet Antonio’s confused eyes, and we both shake our heads. Thank fuck the men are outside, watching for threats instead of witnessing this circus.
I use the brush to sweep the stairs, and the scent of frying onion and garlic fills the air as Antonio makes something to satisfy our bellies. The first time we went into hiding was after pop died when Mario’s grip on the family wasn’t strong enough, and other families were circling like vultures. I remember him lying next to me, hands behind his head, telling me that going to the mattresses was a tradition. A chance for men to be men.