My Neighbour's Wife (A Mafia Romance Novel)

7. Zefiro's pov

I gave Adrianna one order: keep Susanna the f**k away from me. I didn’t care if she went to the ranch and cleaned out horseshit or sat in the kitchen for hours. I didn’t want to see her long hair, or her grey eyes, and Christ, her ass in that uniform.

Apparently, no one f*****g listens to me because there she is, serving our guests who do not have the same reservations as me when it comes to looking at her. They make jokes about f*****g her in the ass in Italian, and none the wiser, she smiles politely responding to their requests in English professionally. No matter that the only reason they ask her to get more salt is to watch her ass jiggle and peer under her skirt as she bends.

“Zefiro?”

I tear my gaze away from the latest object of my nightmares and obsession and give my attention to Valentina Moretti. Beautiful, siren green eyes, plump lips, sinful curves—not Susanna. Dio.

For a week, I have been on too many blind dates to count, all at my grandmother’s behest. With Enzo in a coma and a possible violent power struggle surging in our world, I must continue the family line. Pump as many kids as I can into a bride of my choosing. It’s either that or marry my brother’s wife as tradition expects.

But I could never do that to Enzo. It’s f*****g disrespectful and it doesn’t matter how hard I try, I really cannot stand Gia. I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole, not even if my life depended on it. We knew she was marrying Enzo for the money, but could she be any more obvious, appearing by my study every night in scrawny straps for clothes?

I stare at Valentina, half-heartedly listening to her talks of medical school, and I am reminded of my plight. Every woman I meet, I end up comparing to her. I convince myself that I just need to get her out of my system, get f*****g laid. But that is the problem, no? I want no other’s touch but hers.

And now, I hate her for making me feel these things. I hate her for leaving me this hungry, this restless, this hard, without even knowing what she does to me.

“Papa told me you’ve been away for some time,” Valentina repeats, her silver ring glinting as she twists the pasta around her fork, avoiding the meatballs. “I trust expanding VDR to Los Angeles wasn’t too hectic.”

I meet my Nonna’s gaze, conveying all of my displeasure of this arrangement in a single glance. She merely smiles, lifting her glass of wine to her lips.

Irritation tightens in my gut, but I manage a snort, reminded of Dante’s comment when I informed him of my impromptu break. Take your time. “Hectic doesn’t even begin to describe it.” Susanna returns with the salt, and our gazes collide as she bends over, dropping the salt across the table. My fingers tighten around the glass as I add, “You should visit sometime. It has quite the view.”

“Oh,” Valentina giggles, her green eyes dancing with soft light. “I suppose I will.”

Nonna nods in approval and I hate her a little more as well, for ambushing me—

Thwack.

The hand swirling my drink stills. My mind stutters to a halt, and a roaring begins from within as I turn to find a Moretti’s hand on Susanna’s ass. His fingers grip into her flesh, and he laughs when she stiffens and whispers more politely than he deserves, “Let go, sir.”

Silence descends as every head on the table turns towards the Moretti heir and his notorious best friend, Mauro, who flicks a knife in his palm playfully, aiming for the buttons holding Susanna’s skirt together. “It’ll be a quick peek, we promise.”

Alessandro Moretti chortles, but his hand remains right there, gripping her ass and the other glides down, disappearing under her skirt.

Something dark crawls up my spine, up my belly, forcing its way past my throat. It tastes awfully like smoke and bloodthirst. Something cracks, and when I start to think it might be my patience, I realize it is the glass, and blood pours from the new cut on my palm, mixing with the wine pouring from it.

“Oh my,” Valentina says, grabbing a handkerchief. “Are you alright?”

I try to respond, but I can’t think. I can’t…fucking think past Alessandro’s laughter and Susanna’s quiet request, “Can I get you something else, sir?” It might have been cold, the sound of her voice, but I’d seen enough of the woman to understand the trembling of her fingers around the plate she held, the slight quiver of her lips that she tries to hide behind the forced smile, and worst of all, the dull sheen in her grey eyes. She, who might be the most fearless woman I have met in my entire life, is terrified.

I grip the chair underneath me, rising as my vision hazes with anger, but when Susanna cuts a look across the table, staring at me with those doe eyes, I freeze.

The f**k was I going to do, grab the chair and ram it into Alessandro’s head until he doesn’t have one anymore? And start a war with one of our strongest allies by killing their heir? Over a maid?

I settle back in my chair and stare pointedly at my cellphone, feigning nonchalance, but not before I catch a glimpse of betrayal and disappointment in Susanna’s grey eyes. I ignore it, her, them. I’ll have Adrianna increase her pay, that is, if she decides to stay after this.

Working in the household of any member of the Cosa Nostra comes with its advantages and disadvantages. We pay heftily for services acquired, as well as damages. Damages may include returning home with a missing finger, getting shot at during a power struggle, or being groped by entitled visitors. Or worse.

I have no idea how long they toy with her, but it feels like an eternity of pain, rage and suffocation. Alessandro lets her go only when Mauro has her skirts in enough rips, that her black, lacy panties are in view. Valentina says nothing to her brother through the entire ordeal. Gia sips her drink. Nonna eats. My cousins pick out their manicured nails and their husbands discuss business.

Women survive longer than men in our world because they understand when not to interfere. Should Alessandro feel like it, he could have his guards shoot Susanna and not one person on this table would flinch at the blood, or death. She’s a maid, a nobody. Her life matters little to an heir. And as such, it should matter little to me.

The littlest sign of weakness and I’ll be game, again. Susanna will not be my weakness like Priya was. I won’t fall for another man’s woman and subject myself to the scandal, drama and vulnerability that comes with it. If Alessandro wants her, he can have her.

Susanna is none of my f*****g business.