Bound to the Mafia Prince

Chapter 3

‘Holy mother of…’

Penelope cursed the moment she came through; her head ached as if someone was hammering their way out of her skull. She tiredly brought her hands to rub her eyes, and she felt the warm sunlight on her eyelids as she slowly regained her senses. She felt the soft fabric of the bedsheets beneath her, a warm duvet hugging her gently.

And she pressed her against something hard.

Her eyes shot open quickly.

For a second, she thought an angel had found its way into her bed. Raven-black hair was scattered on the paper-white pillow, soft lashes curling heavenward as they cast a shadow on his sharp cheekbone. To add to it all, he was naked underneath the duvet.

Penelope hitched a breath, her memory was vague, but as she slowly registered the room she was in. The curtains were wide open, allowing the sun to flood the hotel room she didn’t recall booking. She slowly turned on her other side and saw her jeans and tank top on the floor.

‘Holy f**k, Penelope!’ she cursed, sneaking a peek at herself under the cover. She was as naked as the day she was born. She let out a frustrated sigh.

‘I’m never drinking again!’ she thought, taking a deep breath as she planned her escape.

She crawled to the edge of the bed. The moment her feet touched the floor, the man behind her ground and shifted. Penelope was petrified, squeezing her eyes shut; if that man woke up, she would rather die than face him.

‘Right, this man is…’ she paused, staring over her shoulder at him. ‘Luca,’ she recalled his name from her last sober moments in the club.

She was sober now and still thought of him as the most beautiful man she had ever laid her eyes on. The lighting from the club didn’t give him enough credit. Now, the morning sun was casting a soft tan on his pale naked torso, illuminating the curves and outline of his long face, his mouth agape as he breathed peacefully.

Penelope was crushed with the memory of these lips devouring her the night before, nipping on her sweet spots she didn’t know existed. She felt the heat travel down again.

‘Snap out of it,’ she screamed internally, giving herself a quick reality check that what happened yesterday was nothing more than a fleeting moment, a very hot fleeting moment. But still, a moment that they will forget as they return to their worlds.

Penelope stood up, and pain shot through her legs like electricity. She gathered her clothes in silence before tiptoeing her way into the bathroom to change.

She didn’t shower, fearing the water would wake the raven-sleeping beauty outside. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. She noticed the red and purple marks scattered on her bare neck; the tank top wasn’t helping at all in hiding them.

‘I can’t go home like this,’ she thought, tracing the invisible path between each bruise and the other. She recalled seeing Luca’s shirt on the floor somewhere.

When she came into the room, Luca’s back was to her. She hesitated before picking up the black button-up shirt from the floor.

‘I guess he’ll go home in his vest,’ she thought, feeling guilty but only for a moment before putting the shirt over her tank top, buttoning the first couple of buttons before stuffing the length of it in her pants.

Not her size.

But it wasn’t the time to worry about her outfit now.

She grabbed her bag and left the hotel in such a hurry, someone might believe she was being chased.

Penelope started to breathe freely only after she stepped out of the Terra Hotel Lobby. The street ahead was crowded with people heading to their work, buses running by, and cars honking at the traffic.

Penelope, under normal circumstances, should’ve been one of those people and college head–but these weren’t normal circumstances, were they?

She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket–thankful she didn’t forget it. Casey’s name displayed on the screen, she instantly answered.

“Ben?” Casey answered from the other side of the phone, questioningly. The sound of traffic from the end of her line. “Are you okay? What happened last night, you weren’t answering your God damn phone!?”

“How could you leave me like that last night, Casey!?” Ben yelled, gaining a few stares from the passersby.

“Excuse me for not wanting to be a third wheel?” said Casey, her tone sarcastic as usual.

Of course, she had no idea what her best friend was up to the night before.

“Anyway, I need a ride to college,” Ben sighed, running a hand through her amber hair. “I don’t think I’ll make it in time for class if I wait for the next bus.”

“Sure, where are you? At home?”

Penelope hesitated. “Terra Hotel.”

“Okay, on my way–”

Casey went silent. “Wait, what?! Ben, don’t tell me you–”

“Later, Cat,” Penelope said. “Get me a jacket or something with you.”

She heard Casey sigh on the other end. “Alright, I’ll be there in 10.”

Penelope stood restlessly, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. She kept turning around to check if Luca was behind her. She imagined what he would look like seeing her in his *borrowed* shirt.

The flashbacks of last night came one after the other. The sounds she made underneath him, the feeling of his solid chest pressing down on her bare breasts. She shuddered at the indecent thoughts and hugged the oversized shirt closer around her.

The shirt seemed to be soaked with his aroma, musk, and sweat from the heat, and the metallic smell of blood. She could swear she smelled it on him yesterday, but she was too intoxicated to pay it any heed.

Why would his shirt have the scent of blood? She disregarded the thought as a mere hallucination. after all, she wont be seeing him again.

After what felt like eternity, Casey arrived and honked to get Penelope’s attention. Penelope skipped the distance between them before climbing into her friend’s maroon-colored sedan. She was aware of her friend's eyes scanning her attire.

“Don’t say a word,” Penelope said, avoiding her friend’s brown gaze.

“I didn’t say anything,” said Casey, shifting the gear to drive. “I was just wondering where I saw that shirt before.”

Penelope rolled her eyes. “Did you get me a jacket?” she said, turning around to look at the back seat, grateful when she saw a beige hoodie.

She unbuttoned the soft button-up shirt, Casey stole a glance in the passenger seat, and gasped at the red and purple marks.

“Holy mother of–” her mouth agape. “H-He’s a devil,” she added, her voice had an amused edge.

Penelope ignored her friend’s comment and pulled the hoodie over her head. “Your makeup bag?”

Casey pointed to the compartment in front of Penelope. She tried to fix whatever she could; her mascara was smudging underneath her eyes, making her look like a panda, her lips swollen from all the torment Luca inflicted on them, remnants of her lipstick smeared around her mouth.

“So, did he give you his shirt?” said Casey, her eyes on the road, but she saw the entertainment on her face. Penelope took one last look at herself before she was satisfied, and returned to her friend’s question.

“No, I took it,” said Penelope. “He was sleeping when I left, didn’t exactly have time to ask for his permission.”

“You stole your one-night stand’s shirt?!” Casey scoffed a laugh. “So, he’ll be like walking around half-naked?”

Penelope chuckled.

“It’s the least he deserved.”

“Don…”

“Don.”

Luca fluttered his eyes open; the sunlight was too bright for his liking. When he glanced up he saw Marco, Marco Russo, his Italian right-hand man and bodyguard–not that he needed protection.

He let out a groan, turning on his back, the Italian hovered over the bed, his broad frame shading him from the blazing sun. He sat up straight, feeling his head splitting in half; he overdid it with the alcohol…

Not only the alcohol, he thought.

Luca glanced to the side at the empty bed. He chuckled, his voice still raspy from the deep slumber, and combed his hair back from his forehead.

When was the last time he slept so well? He thought.

“I brought you the change of clothes you asked for,” said Marco. He could guess what happened here from his boss’s clothes on the floor. Don, as he preferred to call his boss in Italian, was usually a very tidy man.

He proceeded to leave the luxury bag on the dresser while Luca wrapped himself in a bathroom robe. In the corner of his eyes, he saw the paper carefully placed with a pen weighing it down.

“Don,” called Marco. “I think this is for you.”

Luca glanced over his shoulder at his Italian friend and took the paper he handed him.

I BORROWED YOUR SHIRT.

YOU CAN GO HOME HALF NAKED.

IT’S THE LEAST YOU DESERVE, YOU LITTLE DEVIL!

BEN,

Luca laughed out loud, clearly amused as he folded the paper carefully. He fished for his wallet in his pants pocket lying on the ground, and placed it inside. He wanted to keep a reminder of this unforgettable, very hot night with a woman called Penelope, or Ben as she signed the note.

Marco watched his boss questioningly.

“Want me to find the woman, Don?” he offered, noticing the grin on his boss’s lips–his boss doesn’t grin like that very often.

“No,” answered Luca, disappointed but knowing it was necessary. “What about the spy from last night?”

Marco was silent for a moment. “We took care of the body, Don.”

Luca nodded curtly, he could still taste the metallic taste of blood on his tongue despite showering after he did the deed. He hated it, but it had to be done.

Right, he thought.

There is no place for her in my *world*.