Stolen Touches: An Arranged Marriage Mafia Romance (Perfectly Imperfect Book 5)
Stolen Touches: Chapter 21

Arturo has been providing updates about our business dealings in narcotics for the past hour, but my mind has been wandering. Milene went to get a manicure with her friend and called less than an hour ago from the salon, yet I got restless a mere twenty minutes later. Even though she has four bodyguards there to protect her I still find it hard to concentrate.

My phone pings with an incoming message. It’s from a jeweler I placed a special request with two days ago, letting me know my order is ready to be picked up.

I somehow manage to sit through the entire meeting, then tell Arturo he’s free to go. The moment he’s out, I leave the office and go to my vehicle.

The store is nearby, so it takes me less than half an hour to get there and collect my purchase. When I get back into my car, I put the red velvet box on the dash in front of me. Just looking at it lessens my anxiety. I’m not sure how Milene will react when I tell her what it is. I might be pushing her too far already. It still amazes me that she’s willing to deal with my shit. But still . . . that little box on the dashboard might be too much.

My eyes scan the clock on the dash. Two minutes after six. She should have called already. Anxiety rears its ugly head once again.

I squeeze the steering wheel, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. Another. And one more. If anything’s happened, Stefano would have informed me. She probably lost track of time. My phone rings. I open my eyes and grab the phone. Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Tore?”

“Yes?”

“You know that crystal vase in the hallway?” Milene says in a small voice. “How much was that thing worth?”

A couple of thousand. “Not much. Why?”

She sighs. “Thank God. When I came home, Kurt was chasing Riggs, and they kind of . . . broke it. I had to clean up the broken pieces, and some of them were very small, so please make sure you don’t go barefoot there. I’m not sure if I caught every last shard. Where are you? Should I wait for you to eat dinner?”

“I had some errands to run, but I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay, I’ll—Get down, you bastard!” The sound of something crashing travels down the line. “No, not the curtains! I have to go.”

I put the phone down next to the velvet box and start the car.

* * *

Walking into the penthouse, I stop at the threshold to take in the chaos in the living room. Several unraveled rolls of toilet paper are strewn across the floor, with small bits littering the furniture. It looks like a tornado hit it. A large pot, which was home to a ficus, rests on its side in the corner of the room with soil scattered around its base. One end of the curtain pole hangs halfway to the floor, the satin drapes falling off it. There are also claw marks visible along its length.

A clang comes from somewhere in the kitchen, and I turn in time to see Kurt jumping from the counter onto the breakfast bar and then to the dining room table. Milene appears a moment later, giving chase.

“Come here, damn you!” she yells and tries to grab the cat, but it jumps down and dashes toward the hallway.

Milene’s shoulders droop, and she looks up at me. “I’ll clean everything, I promise! I have no idea what’s gotten into Kurt. He’s gone insane. Running around like a banshee for almost an hour.” She comes toward me, shaking her head. “I’m trying to catch him. Maybe he’ll calm down if I put him in the bedroom for a bit.”

As she stops in front of me, l take a good look at my wife. Her white T-shirt is torn at the side. Her ponytail hangs askew, with several locks of hair dangling loose. She has claw marks on her right hand, and there are stains of an unknown origin across her front. She really looks like something the cat dragged in.

“Tore?”

I raise my hand and take her chin between my fingers, staring into her eyes. “You’re so beautiful.”

She blinks at me, looking slightly confused. “Um . . . thank you?”

The sofa is thirty feet away, but the dining table is closer. It’ll do. I grab her around the waist and lift her up, carrying her toward it.

“What are you doing?” she asks next to my ear, sounding genuinely puzzled.

When I reach the table, I set her on her feet. Grasping the tablecloth, I pull it off, making the dishes and cutlery clatter and smash noisily against the floor.

“Jeans,” I say, looking down at her.

Milene raises her eyebrows, unbuttons her jeans, and slides them off. The moment she removes her panties, I take her around the waist and sit her down on the table.

“Down.” I press my palm against her chest until she’s lying on the surface, her legs dangling over the edge. With my free hand, I pull up a chair, sit down, and lift her legs over my shoulders. “Close your eyes,” I say before grabbing her ass and tugging her toward me so I can lick her perfect pussy.

Milene moans. I lick her again slowly, kiss gently, and suck on her clit until she starts to pant. She widens her legs, so I slide a finger inside as I continue to tease her with my tongue. She’s soaked. Arching her back, she lets out a scream of pleasure. Without removing my finger, I lick her sweet spot, pressing a little harder with my tongue. Her body shivers, and I again suck her clit into my mouth.

I’ve never gone down on a woman before and never had the desire to do so, but with Milene, I want everything. I revel in the way her body reacts to each stroke and movement. I tease her pussy with my tongue for a few more minutes, and when I’m sure she’s close, I press my mouth to her clit again and suck hard, curling my finger inside of her at the same time. She comes with another rising scream, and her legs shake violently around my shoulders. I place one more kiss against the lips of her pussy and watch how her body recovers. Milene is lying back, eyes closed, her chest rising and falling in rapid tempo as though she’s trying to draw in enough air.

“Milene?” I ask and brush my palm down her naked thigh. “Are you alive, cara mia?”

“No,” she whispers, slowly rising into the sitting position and staring at me. “Move back.”

I slide the chair back and watch as she gets down off the table, kneels between my legs, and starts unbuttoning my pants.

“You don’t have to reciprocate, Milene.” I brush the back of my hand down her cheek.

She takes out my cock, which has been painfully hard since the moment I placed my mouth on her pussy, and looks up at me. “Try stopping me.” She smirks. “And see what will happen.”

With those words, she wraps her lips around the head of my cock, gripping the shaft with her slender fingers. She starts off slow, licking the sensitive underside, sucking the tip, then swallowing more of me with her hot mouth. Her pace becomes gradually faster, and I grab the back of her hair as she bobs more furiously, watching her lips as she takes me in. I try to hold back but find that I can’t. Just the sight of Milene on her knees between my legs with my cock in her mouth is more than enough to make me come, so when she squeezes me and hollows out her cheeks, I explode in her mouth.

Keeping hold of her bunched hair, I lift her head up until our eyes meet.

“Swallow,” I order.

She smirks and follows the order. The sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever witnessed.

Milene

I trace a line down Salvatore’s chest, circle my finger over his rock-hard stomach, then tilt my head to place a kiss on his shoulder. His arm tightens around my middle, pressing me closer to his body.

“Bianca texted me today.” I move my finger upward over his chest again. “Petrov sends his thanks for the intel on the Albanians.”

“I wouldn’t want to be in Dushku’s shoes right now.” He reaches with his left hand to move the hair that’s fallen over my face behind my ear, then places his hand on his stomach.

“Does it still hurt?” I ask and move my finger to his hand, tracing a line over one of the prominent scars there.

“Sometimes.”

“How many breaks?”

“They couldn’t determine.” He turns his hand and entwines his fingers with mine. “I managed to train myself to shoot with my right. Now I’m even better than I was with my left. My handwriting sucks, though.” He looks down at me. “As does my typing, which you’ve probably noticed.”

“And the leg? A gunshot wound to the calf rarely requires amputation.”

“I was shot once in the ankle and twice in the calf, from short range,” he says. “There wasn’t any chance of saving it.”

I close my eyes and bury my face in the crook of his neck. “Promise me something.”

“What?”

“Please don’t get shot again.”

“It’s not like I’m running around with a target drawn over my back, Milene.” A kiss lands at the top of my head.

“Yes, you are,” I mumble into his neck. “I asked Nino why there’s no security detail on you. He said you don’t allow it.”

“If someone is persistent enough in trying to kill me, they’ll do it. Security detail or not.”

My head snaps up. “So, what, you’ll do as you’ve been doing so far and wait for it to happen?”

“No. I’ll try my best to kill them first.”

“Then, try harder damn it!”

Hi tilts his head, regarding me with interest. “Would it bother you if I got killed?”

“Jesus fuck, Salvatore!” I snap. “Would it bother me? Are you for real?”

“Yes. I want to know.”

“You want to know.” I blink, not believing what I’m hearing. “He wants to know if it would bother me if he got killed.”

“It’s a simple question, cara.”

He needs to have his head checked. “Yeah, it would bother me.” I shake my head in frustration. “Would it bother you if I got killed?”

Salvatore’s body goes still. “Do not. Ever. Ask that. Again.”

“You started this with the idiotic questions.” I take his face between my hands. “No more gunshot wounds. Promise me.”

“I’ll try.”

I sigh and close my eyes. He’ll try. Perfect.

“Does that mean you’ll start taking security detail?”

“No.”

Of course not.

“Then deal with the Irish,” I say through my clenched teeth and press my lips to his. “I want them dead.”

“I’m already working on that.” He takes a strand of my hair and wraps it around his finger. “Why are you so bloodthirsty all of a sudden?”

I stare at him, amazed by his cluelessness. He does have a problem with realizing and processing certain things if he can’t see that I’m in love with him.

“Must be PMS.” I sigh, hoping he’ll accept my answer and not question me any more, and place my head on his chest.

Salvatore’s hand lands at my nape and slides downward, lightly brushing my skin with the tips of his fingers. I close my eyes and enjoy the sensation. I’m half-asleep when his hand halts at my neck.

“I bought you something,” he says in a serious tone. “But if you don’t like it, I’ll take it back.”

“You suck at giving presents,” I mumble into his chest.

“I know.” He buries his fingers in my hair. “Do you want to see it?”

“Did it cost a million dollars? A hint for you—if the answer is yes, you can take it back now.”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“It’s in my jacket. I’ll be right back.”

I watch as he reaches for the crutches, rises, and heads toward the door. I use the opportunity to ogle his tight ass, clad in black boxers. Very nice indeed. Salvatore sleeps in just his underwear, something I wholeheartedly approve of. He returns a few minutes later, throws the jacket on the bed, and sits down. Taking out a red velvet box, he places it beside me on the pillow. I sit up and open the box to find a simple gold bracelet. It’s thick, yet somehow still delicate.

“It’s beautiful, but you don’t have to buy me jewelry. You know I rarely wear it. I haven’t even had the opportunity to wear that ridiculously exuberant bracelet you bought,” I say.

He stiffens beside me. “I need you to wear this one,” he says. “At all times.”

“Okay.” I shrug and open the clasp to put it on.

“It has a GPS chip inside,” he adds, and my head snaps up.

Salvatore

Milene remains silent at first, and then her gaze moves between me and the bracelet in her hand. “Why?”

“The calls are not enough anymore. I almost flipped out today while you were with Pippa. Barely managed to sit through a meeting because I was wondering where you were. I need to know where you are, Milene. At all times.”

“You knew where I was. I called every hour,” she says. “There were four bodyguards with me. You could have called them to check.”

I called Stefano twice. It didn’t really help. I became anxious less than fifteen minutes later. “Alright. I’ll find a way to deal with my issues some other way.”

I’ve shocked her. It’s apparent from the way she flips her gaze between me and the bracelet.

“Can you explain those . . . issues more clearly? Please.”

I take her hand in mine and trace a circular pattern on the middle of her palm. “It starts as a slight unease—nothing special, a little discomfort, but it quickly transforms into a restlessness that’s hard to control,” I say. “Then, I become distracted. Edgy. I can’t concentrate. My brain constructs different scenarios, each worse than the last, and it’s all I can think about. I can’t block it out.”

“What scenarios, Tore?” Her eyes search mine.

Not taking my eyes off hers, I press my lips together. “You,” I say through gritted teeth. “Hurt. Or kidnapped.”

“You understand your fear is unfounded, don’t you? Especially when we’re in the same building.”

“It doesn’t matter.” I reach out and take her chin. “I need to see you, to be sure you’re really okay. If that’s not a possibility, I need to know where you are. Every fucking second.”

I don’t mention that I also have this crazy urge to touch her all the time. I can’t stand being in the same room with her without placing my hand on hers or wrapping my arm around her waist. If she’s sitting nearby, it has to be on my lap. I can’t process the idea of her being near and not having her skin against mine. It’s like dangling a bottle of water in front of a man dying of thirst. A physiological need I have to fulfill, or else I’ll go insane. I’ve been resisting that compulsion so far, and only succumb when I’m close to losing my mind. For now, that is.

Milene regards the bracelet, then meets my gaze. “So, my wearing this would help?”

“Yes.”

She sighs and offers it to me, extending her left hand. “Okay.”

I take the bracelet and fix it around her wrist. The moment it’s fastened, the feeling of restlessness building inside me dissipates almost completely. “You’re going to wear this at all times, even when you’re in the shower or asleep. And you’ll continue calling me, as we agreed.”

“I will.”

I nod and, wrapping my arms around her middle, pull her toward me. “Good.”

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