Undressed By The Mafia God

"No!" She yanked at the bag again, harder this time. Her heel slipped. She lost balance, her body pitching backwards with a startled gasp.

He caught her, one arm locking around her waist and dragging her against him. Val crashed into his chest. Marco held her there, breathing hard.

She fit against him too perfectly. His body knew hers as home. she whispered into his shirt. "Marco. Please. I don’t want a divorce." Her voice shattered. "I was scared. I am scared. But I don’t want to lose you."

His arm tightened around her. The bag hung uselessly between them, still caught in one of her hands, the handle twisted from their little war. "You cannot keep me by force," he murmured and then let go of the bag. "You can keep that." He began to walk to the door.

Valentina hurried forward and jumped on his back.

"For fuck’s sake!" Marco barked, staggering a step as her arms locked around his shoulders. "Val! You’ll hurt yourself!"

"What the hell do you think this is going to do to me?"

Marco sighed in exasperation and walked to the bed. "Get off me. Valentina." He reached back, caught her carefully, and yanked her off him. She landed on the mattress with a soft bounce, but before he could straighten, she was on her knees again, gripping his shirt.

"Let’s just talk about this," she cried. "Please. I don’t have anyone, Marco. I don’t." She clutched tighter.

"You’re hurting me," he said, pressing one hand to his chest. "In here. I have a job that needs me at one hundred percent at all times," he continued, each word strained. "I cannot afford this."

"I’m sorry." She wrapped her arms around his torso, burying her face against him. "I’m sorry, please. I’ll do anything. Don’t leave me." Val rose onto her knees on the bed, bringing herself level with him, and held his face between her palms. Her hands were shaking. Her eyes were soaked. She looked so young, so terrified.

"Please..." she whispered and kissed him frantically, everywhere.

His forehead. The corner of his mouth. His lips. Again and again, coaxing, begging, crying against his skin as if she could convince him with pieces of herself because words had failed them both.

"I cannot lose you," she said between kisses. "Please. Please..." She covered his lips with hers properly then.

His palm came behind her neck. He kissed her back. Valentina sobbed into his mouth. "You can’t keep doing this," he muttered against her lips.

"I’m sorry. I will be stronger. I promise."

His mouth found hers harder.

"I missed you," she whispered, kissing him again and again until she felt him crumble in her arms. "I really missed you, baby."

Marco did not need any more words. He had been starved for weeks anyway. He caught the hem of her summer dress and pulled it over her head. Val reached for him at once, dragging at his shirt, his belt. She was crying still, breathless with relief and want and terror. He pushed her back onto the mattress.

She went willingly, pulling him with her, legs parting around his hips before he even asked. His mouth came down on her throat, hungry enough to make her fingers dig into his shoulders. She shivered beneath him, her breath breaking as his hand moved over her body.

(Just so you all know, I’m kinda rolling my eyes right now. Smh... men)

*****

When Luca arrived home that morning after Veronica had sent him to the store to get some things for the barbecue later that evening, he arrived with a truck.

Veronica heard the ruckus outside and hurried downstairs. the Genovese house had taught her one simple truth: noise usually meant Luca doing something dramatic. She reached the entrance hall just as one of the staff pulled open the front door.

Outside, a truck was parked in the driveway. A truck, currently being unloaded. Veronica stopped at the doorway.

Several large boxes were already on the ground. More were being passed down. A crib. A rocking chair. Three sealed cartons with baby monitors, blankets, and God knew what else printed across the sides. Something that looked like a stroller system. There were packages marked fragile, and one absurdly large box that seemed to contain either a baby swing or a small aircraft.

Vee looked at her husband. Luca stood beside the truck, sleeves rolled up, sunglasses on, looking disgustingly proud of himself. "What the hell is this?" Vee demanded.

Luca turned to her, his smile spreading slowly. "Stuff for the baby."

"What the fuck?" she finally managed.

The lifters continued bringing things down from the truck, and the house staff joined in immediately.

One of the lifters stopped near the steps with a box nearly as tall as himself. "Where do we put these?"

"In the bedroom beside ours," Vee answered automatically.

Then she turned back to Luca. He was watching her like a man waiting for praise. She gave him none.

Veronica shut her eyes briefly. The baby was six weeks old. Barely a whisper inside her body, and Luca had already furnished an entire room.

He was excited. He was genuinely excited. Terrified too, yes. Luca’s fear was never far from anything he loved. But he looked like a man who had seen the future.

God help her, she loved him. Still, someone had to maintain order. And apparently that someone was the pregnant woman whose husband had gone to buy barbecue supplies and returned with a nursery.

"Don’t worry," Luca said, stepping closer. "I didn’t buy clothes. I left that up to you."

She looked around as another box came out of the truck. "We don’t even know if it’s a girl or a boy. How do you know what colours to buy?"

"Simple," Luca said. "I bought purple. Works for either a girl or a boy."

"Your solution to not knowing the gender was purple?"

"Yes."

"All of it?"

"Most of it. There are some neutral pieces."

"What is your definition of neutral?"

"Expensive."

She looked at the growing mountain of boxes, then shook her head. "I’m not helping you set any of these up."

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