She’s My Queen

25. The next step

25

THE NEXT STEP

CRISTINA

A fter what happened between Severio and me, I’m surprised I remembered the fish.

I’m surprised I remembered my name after what Severio did to my body. I did forget something before running out of the room. My underwear.

The way Severio looked at me when I went to tell him and Drago to come in and eat makes me feel even better about myself and my body. While a man’s attention wasn’t ever something I needed to make me feel good about myself, it’s terrific to have a man who appreciates my curves. It makes me feel prettier, more desirable, and therefore lifts my spirits.

I wouldn’t have expected Severio to be that man, certainly not with how our relationship started, but he showed me passion and protection I’d never experienced. Since he likes good food and indulges in excellent meals, I’m happy to fix him some of my favorites.

Which happen to be seafood dishes, some traditionally Italian, others from other countries in the Mediterranean Sea.

When Severio enters the kitchen, knowing I have no panties on makes me feel…bad. Not bad bad as if I’m doing something wrong, but bad as in a bad girl doing something perversely right. I like it.

I’m sure Father Thomas would have a thing or five to say about temptation.

The men take a seat across the counter and pick up the homemade chips that I shaped into scoops when I dug them from the potato. The shape is so that the person can scoop out the spicy fish dip. Which they do immediately.

They both chew, their eyebrows shooting up almost at the same time.

“I know, right?” I grin and reach for Severio’s plate to have a bite. He slaps my wrist. I laugh because he won’t share.

I reach for Drago’s chip, and he moves the plate out from under my hand.

“Fine.” I lift my hands. “I won’t steal.”

On the kitchen counter, a golden serpent slithers across Drago’s phone. “Save me some fish,” he says before picking up the call and leaving with the appetizer plate.

Severio dips the chip and does the airplane thing toward me. I lean in and open my mouth, but he reverses and puts the food in his mouth instead. “This is a Lebanese dish,” he says.

“Wow, how do you know that?”

“I eat around the world and know things.”

Impressive. “I changed it up a little bit.”

He nods. “No nutmeg.”

I gape.

He winks at me.

“I bet you can’t guess this next one.” I wait a few minutes, and after the timer pings, I serve our meals. I made three dishes from the fish because I wanted a variety today. And because I want to impress Severio.

He munches on the chips and fish dip, then licks his thumb before picking up a napkin and dabbing his mouth. The thumb licking makes my breasts tingle. I have no panties on.

Severio leans over the island and shakes his head. “You’re right. I’ve never tasted this combination.”

“I aim to shock you with all the goodness I can muster.”

“Believe me, Cristina, you already have.”

We watch each other for a moment, allowing the weight of what he said to settle between us. Severio breaks eye contact first by picking up the spatula from the tower of utensils. He comes to stand behind me.

Close.

Closer yet.

His hardness pushes against my back.

He twirls the spatula in his hand. “You know what I’m thinking about when you look at me like you want to please me?”

“No.”

“I can show you.” Warm fingers trail down my hip and scoop up my dress so that one side is bunched, exposing my left butt cheek. Severio steps back and swings the spatula. It connects with my bottom.

I gasp and rise on my toes, now all the way against the counter.

He swings again, and it connects at the same place, stinging it twice.

Inside me, lava spills, and when he puts down the spatula and leans in, he rests one hand on the counter beside me, and the other traces the curve of my bottom.

“You’re so fuckable,” he says. “You make me want to sink inside you over and over again. It’s driving me crazy.”

I say nothing. What’s there to say? Severio Mancini, the man who took my virginity, just told me he finds me irresistible. Some women live a thousand lives before they hear such a thing from a man. Others never hear it at all.

I remain quiet in case he wants to talk this way some more.

Severio reaches between my ass cheeks, and I part my legs so he gets better access to what he wants. He wants to dip a finger inside me.

Once he does, he whispers, “Look at you. No panties and sopping wet.”

His mouth is on my neck, kissing me, sucking and sucking. Harder and harder while his finger works me inside.

Footsteps sound.

We separate.

Drago walks into the kitchen, takes one look at us and at the food, then turns to leave. I can tell he’s hungry, but he’s read the room, and he’s out of here.

“I’ll meet you outside,” Severio tells him.

“No, please, wait.” I grab a plate, arrange Drago’s meal, and walk over to hand it to him. He accepts, but his eyes are on Severio. I look between the men and notice something silent moving between them. I’ve been around my father and Gio long enough to know it’s business-related.

I also know not to ask about business.

After Drago exits, Severio leans on his hands at the counter, our moment broken. I fix a plate for Severio and myself. “Do you want to eat at the table or here?”

“Wherever is fine with me.”

“And me.”

“Kitchen table, then. Not the formal dining one.”

I set our plates on the table behind the island, sensing Severio’s mood has changed. I’m unsure what occurred between him and Drago, but Severio’s giving off those distant vibes, the ones that make me think he’s a military general.

Since he’s moved in, we’ve gotten closer; we’ve shared meals. I’ve often seen him limping and wearing sweatpants instead of suits, which has made me warm up to him, made me think of him as someone approachable. He’s not. He’s a wild beast, and as soon as he recovers, if he hasn’t already, he’ll go on his merry way.

A panther is a solitary creature, and I bet Severio misses his solitude. For some reason or other, he’s invaded my house and now my mind and body, but I’m not entirely sure he wanted to do all those things.

Or it could be I’m reading too much into everything. Possibly. Probably. Maybe he’s just hungry.

“This is delicious,” he says as he eats.

Okay, so he’s hungry.

I love how he eats. There’s so much enthusiasm for food, and it helps that he has a hearty appetite without worrying about gaining weight.

“Thank you,” I say. “Can you guess where the inspiration for the dish came from?”

He pauses chewing. “Not sure. I want to say New Orleans, but also Russia. Part of it reminds me of gumbo, but there’s this one Russian dish that tastes almost exactly like this.”

I drop my fork. “There’s no way you can know this. Are you spying in my head?”

Severio chuckles. “I have only a few loves in my life. Food is one of them.”

“One of mine too,” I say and leave it at that, but boy, oh boy, I want to know all the other things he loves. Spanking, my brain supplies. So helpful, my brain.

“Ever been to New Orleans?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“You’d like it. Has a beat to it like this island.”

“Maybe one day I’ll get to see it.”

“Maybe.” He gets up with his plate. “Want more?”

“I can’t.” I pick at my plate while that nagging feeling that something’s wrong doesn’t go away. I’m wondering if it’s something I did. Or didn't do, especially during sex.

Severio returns with another plate and digs in. This time, he’s fixed himself more salad.

“Is Drago okay?” I ask.

“He’s fine. How about you? Are you okay?”

Are you a cat?

“I’m great.”

He smirks suggestively, and it makes me blush. I look away.

“I’m departing tonight,” he says.

My breath hitches, and I grit my teeth so he can’t tell he’s hurting me. Of course he’s leaving. This is not his home, his house, his anything. So I have no idea why his words rip through me like a tidal wave. I want him to leave. Don’t I? Damn it.

Severio continues, “An announcement as soon as tomorrow, as late as next week, about Gio and his deputy’s death will air on the news. It’s what the Order calls the formal closure, meaning it’s the news the birds will hear that explains Gio’s untimely demise. The news will shake up the community, there will be exaggerated media dramatics, which will air on television for days. People will flock to this house, wanting interviews, etc., etc. I need you to stay indoors. I trust that Drago supplied enough groceries for a week. I also trust you’ll take it from there.”

“Hence why he shopped so much and paid for everything.”

Severio nods. “I don’t want you to talk to the press.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Since there will be lots of coverage on you, it’s best if I’m not with you.”

I nod, agreeing with him. “I’ll be a mourning widow.”

“There is that, yes, but there are other things. When a Mancini member of the Order is taken out, it disrupts the systems others have working for them. We function like a machine, and disruptions are dangerous. The members panic. Which is why I’m personally handling this one. With that said, the Order is always about power, and some families might try to take advantage of Gio’s misfortune.”

“How?”

“By pushing women at me to see if I’ll bite. By trying to poison me, shoot me, a number of things. Whichever they try, I wouldn’t want to expose you to it. I don’t want a repeat of the drone incident.”

“Me either. I have to say I’d rather not think about any women being pushed at you.”

“I’ll push them away.”

Damn. I want to ask him, but I don’t dare, and yet I do anyway. “Are you telling me all this because you like me?”

Severio leans back and crosses his arms over his chest.

Clearly, that was the wrong question.

“I’m telling you all this because you are mine to protect.”

I can’t argue with that, but I want to argue that. I want to tell him that I’m more than just someone to protect, seeing as how he deposited his semen inside me without even asking if I was on birth control or protected from pregnancy in any way. I’m on the pill, but for all he knows, he’s breeding me.

Oh, Corrado asked if he was breeding me. At the time, it wasn’t his business, and it sounded primal and raw, but maybe his brother has a point.

“I’ll play my part,” I tell Severio.

“Thank you,” he says. “After a few weeks, the dust will settle.”

A few weeks. I let out a loud breath. “Will you attend Gio’s funeral?”

“We’ll attend the funeral together. You’ll sit by me the entire time. For the birds, it sends a message of a united grieving family. For the Order members, it sends a message of a united family. They’ll know I’m not grieving. They’ll read into my attendance with you differently.”

“How so?”

“Marriage proposals will start coming in through me, not through your loving relative. Your mother.”

I make a face. “Marriage proposals? Gah, during a funeral?”

“Not quite but they’ll want to put out the feelers, see what’s available for exploitation.”

“But I have nothing.”

Severio smiles. “For all they know, you’re a Mancini widow. You might have a lot of things.”

“I hadn’t considered that.”

Severio drums his fingers on the table. “There is something else.”

His blue eyes pin me to the chair before he continues. “The media coverage will reach people who are not in attendance. I want them to see us together. I’m hoping it will cause some of them to make contact when they didn’t want to make it before.”

Severio’s gaze is intense. More intense than usual, and it’s making my heartbeat speed up. “Is there someone in particular you’re referring to?”

A pause, then, “Yes.”

“Who?”

“Your father.”