Kiss de La Notte - Book III (Mafia Romance)

Chapter Sixteen: My Hell is You

CIAO!!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO THOSE WHO CELEBRATE!!! WHAT'S YOUR FAV FOOD TODAY?!?!?!!

YO I HAD SOME HOMEMADE TIRAMISU TODAY AND JFJIWOEIJFOIWEOFIOWE SO GOOD. 

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            The shame I felt for kissing Lucius again made me almost too sick to enjoy the most perfect Thanksgiving dinner I'd ever seen.

Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, mac and cheese, green beans, Brussel sprouts, corn, and fresh rolls and corn muffins with butter to spread over them in the shape of a cute little turkey. Homemade blueberry and cranberry sauce, which was my personal favorite. Gemma had brought the recipe into our household when she started working for my father four years ago, and now Papà asked for it every holiday.

Mia sat beside me at the end of the table and Papà sat on the oppsite end. Gemma was to Papà's left with Nonna on her other side, leaving Lucius and I with our own side to ourselves. I liked to think if I never looked in the Devil's direction, it was like he wasn't even there. But even when I wasn't looking at him, I could still smell his intoxicating cologne, feel the heat of his body just a mere foot or two away from me.

And whenever I thought about those things, my mind rewound how it all felt up close and personal, his pulse at his neck leaping beneath my lips, passion my body as we kissed. Lucius had always felt a little warmer to the touch. I imagined all the taut muscle beneath his clothes trapped in all that heat.

I couldn't believe I'd let that happen. How could I have let that happen? I had to remember Lucius' intentions were most likely crooked. I'd heard him talk to that person on the phone outside of the club, and I had to get to the bottom of what the hell this guy was trying to do to my family.

Nonna kept asking him questions about his family, about his hobbies. I tried to tune him out the best I could by focusing on my meal. Damn that stronzo. I hated how charismatic he was. How the way he told a story about himself and a childhood friend from Italy completely enraptured everyone at the table. He was a real natural at making people like him, and he was even better at making me forget what he really was. How those scabbed over knuckles and the black eye were just the tiniest hint at what he'd groomed himself to become.

"Korinna, can you please pass Lucius the wine?" Papà asked.

I looked up from the mashed potatoes I'd been pushing around, realizing everyone was looking at me. Which meant I must have been asked more than once and not heard themn

"Sorry, I was just thinking about something." Now I felt like a jerk for not participating in the table discussion. Sliding the bottle across the table, I made a point not to touch or move past the middle point of our table spots.

I could feel Lucius trying to make eye contact with me, but I couldn't do it. "Thanks," he muttered.

"Korinna, always pour for your husband," Nonna scolded.

Lucius' head turned toward Nonna at the 'husband' part. It was the first time she had said that in front of him. I noticed how his eyebrows caved in a little bit, and his arm, outstretched toward the wine glass on the table, stiffened. Well, well. Looked like Mr. Afraid of Commitment But Forcing a Woman to Marry Him was sensitive around the word husband.

"You're right, Nonna," I said, taking Lucius' glass and slowly pouring it for him. "Here you go, husband."

Lucius' stare leveled with mine for a moment, before dropping to the little smirk on my mouth.