a new hope

FRANCESCA

WE DON’T DO anything too intense. He teaches me some basics and keeps it gentle, considering the chance that I might be pregnant.

There are so many questions I want to ask him. I feel like if I ask anyone else, he’d be upset, like I’m disrespecting him.

I want to know why he killed his mother. It’s just curiosity, but I also know it’s the kind of knowledge I shouldn’t seek. It would only bring more trouble into my life.

But it could also bring me closer to him.

I know that learning about his mother should’ve stirred up negative feelings. I know my opinion of him should have changed.

I know I should feel anger or disgust toward him. But honestly, I don’t. Maybe it’s because I understand that there’s no point.

I know that knowing this information won’t change anything. It’s in the past and there’s no point in dwelling on it. It’s not even my business.

Still, I can’t resist the temptation to know. I know my limits. I know that if I want to satisfy my curiosity, Antonio is the only person I can ask.

I can’t disrespect him by asking someone else and involving them in our business. Not even our business. His business. It’s his personal business.

I kick off my heels and stretch a bit. I need a shower but Antonio is already in there. He smells pretty ripe after his workout with Alessandro, so I let him go first.

I feel like things are good between us. The tension isn’t as high as before. Things are getting back to normal. Well, as normal as they can be. It’s only been a few days since our fight.

I hear him turn on the shower and I wonder if I should join him or not. He’s been deprived of me for weeks and I feel a sudden obligation to change that.

But it’s not just that. I want to do it.

I purse my lips and glance at Antonio’s wallet that he tossed on the bed with his other stuff. His phone is there too, but I’m not foolish enough to go through it.

That would be an invasion of privacy.

I open his wallet and take out a coin. Just a simple nickel. I can’t help but peek at what else he has inside.

I’m disappointed when I don’t see anything other than the usual emergency phone number, his legal business card, and a photo that’s still in good shape despite being years old.

Actually, I’m not disappointed when I take a closer look at the picture.

I gasp when I realize that the picture is of me when I was around eighteen. It was taken around the time I was betrothed to him.

Maybe this was the first picture of me he was given. Maybe this was the picture that made him choose me. I can’t deny that I look beautiful. I’m smiling at the camera.

It was a photoshoot done by my father to send pictures to some high-ranking mafiosi for my marriage. I’m sitting on a white couch. I have red lips and a deep red outfit that hugs my curves.

My hair is in a high ponytail and my face is covered in makeup. I don’t even look eighteen.

I close his wallet and grab the coin, still feeling butterflies in my stomach.

~Heads~, ~go inside.~

~Tails~, ~stay here.~

I flip the coin, but there’s a single thought running through my head. ~Make it be heads. Make it be heads.~

I squeeze my eyes shut before removing my hand from the coin to see the result.

Tails, it shows.

I bite my lip in annoyance, but then I realize that I’m not obligated to follow the coin and what I actually want to do is to go inside.

Antonio is the one who always initiates any physical contact. I want to be the one to do so today. It’s not because I have to or because I fear he’d stray if I didn’t.

It’s because I feel a bit of power over him. I feel like I have the right to be the one initiating it.

I get up from the bed and quickly glance at myself in the mirror. My hands fall on the necklace he gave me and I take it off. I can’t risk damaging this gem. It’s too precious.

I take a deep breath to calm my nerves before I walk in. The bathroom is large and luxurious. I see him inside the shower.

The glass is fogged, but I can see the outline of his naked body.

I shut the door behind me. “~Bambola~?” he calls, even though he probably knows it’s me.

“It’s me,” I mutter.

He doesn’t say anything, but I hear the click of him unlocking the shower door. I can’t help but smile. He says he doesn’t trust me, yet he unlocks the door to the shower.

I know he probably has his gun with him inside but that doesn’t make me hesitate. There’s a gun on the sink as well.

I step out of my clothes. Biting my lower lip, I open the glass door, the only thing separating me from him.

His back is toward me, but I know he knows I’m there. He doesn’t turn around.

Water trails down his back, which is covered in scars and a small tattoo of a rose starting at his neck and going down.

It’s very detailed and looks painful, but it’s also very old. He doesn’t have many tattoos, but I like it that way.

For some reason he looks thinner to me, but that might just be me overthinking.

He’s staring at the floor. The hair at the nape of his neck is wet, water sliding down his back erotically.

He has his hands flat against the wall in front of him and his head tilted down. I can see the small tattoos on his arms that cover minor and large scars.

There’s tension in the air, but this time it’s not awkward. It’s intense. Sexually intense.

I place my hands on his back gently. He stiffens under my touch but he doesn’t push me away. It encourages me, making me lean closer.

I do feel insecure, but my desire to be intimate wins over. I don’t know where this confidence is coming from, but it makes me feel different and out of character.

He makes me feel bold. He makes me feel powerful. Maybe it’s from earlier when he was being nice, or maybe I’m just too desperate from not being touched in weeks.

Maybe I was just feeling insecure about us. Whatever the reason, I felt compelled to make the first move.

Water dripped from my fingers as I moved closer, massaging his tense shoulders. Gradually, he began to relax.

His shoulders softened as he tilted his head back, letting the water cascade over his hair and down his face.

The water flowed down his neck and chest, splashing onto me. I moved even closer, so close that my breasts brushed against his back. He froze.

It was as if I had ignited something within him, and any movement might extinguish it. It was that kind of freeze. I was surprised I even noticed it.

I wasn’t exactly experienced, so I wasn’t sure how to make him feel good. I rested my head against him, like a lover would, and pressed a gentle kiss onto the rose tattoo on his spine.

His breath deepened as he lowered his head, shaking it and sending water splashing everywhere. I couldn’t help but giggle as the water splashed onto me too.

We didn’t speak. The only sounds were the echo of the warm water and his deep breaths.

I wrapped my arms around his waist, hugging him tightly, my cheek resting against his back.

Suddenly, it didn’t matter if we didn’t have sex. All I could focus on was the feel of his body. And how safe and peaceful I felt. It felt like home. He felt like home.

“~Bambola~,” he whispered.

I waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t, I prompted him. “Hmm?”

He remained silent. I decided to give him space. He would talk when he was ready.

“Do you think this could work?” he asked suddenly.

I wished he would turn around so I could see his face, but he didn’t. “What?”

One of his hands left the wall to cover mine. “Nothing,” he murmured.

I moved to stand in front of him, only for his hands to trap me between them. His hair was wet and falling onto his forehead, his brow furrowed.

His mouth was slightly open, his cheeks flushed from the warm water. To me, he looked so innocent, I just wanted to hug him. How could a Mafia don look innocent?

Somehow, Antonio managed to look innocent without even realizing it. He didn’t look like a heartless Mafia don anymore. He just looked…different. I couldn’t put it into words.

After a moment, I wrapped my arms around his neck, looking into his dark eyes. “Baby, please talk to me.”

He licked his lips before closing his eyes. “I meant we—us.”

I stood on my toes to be a bit taller and pulled his head down. He looked at me in surprise, but it was fleeting. I leaned up to kiss him slowly. He responded immediately.

I pulled back quickly, even though I wanted to devour his lips. I wanted to see them bruised because of me. “I’m willing to try if you are,” I told him.

We stared at each other, my hazel-brown eyes lost in his black ones.

There was an intensity there, and before I could understand what was happening, he leaned down and kissed me again.

This time, the kiss wasn’t gentle. It was aggressive.

He pulled me under the shower, stepping back so the water could drench my body and wet my hair. His pupils were dilated as he looked down at me.

“I like it when you call me baby,” he said. “It feels like home.”

I blushed. I didn’t know how to respond to that. “I like it when you call me ~bambola~,” I tried.

He leaned against the glass wall as I ran my hand through my hair, showering. He watched me intently. “I don’t like you lying to me.” He brought it up again.

“I don’t like you keeping secrets either, but I have to deal with it,” I muttered.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Francesca, there are some things that you do not need to know.”

I nodded, feeling a bit down. “I know, and I completely understand that.”

“Good.” He grabbed my waist and pulled me closer. My naked body collided with his. “Are you done?”

“Almost.” My voice dropped as his deepened with desire.

“Perfect,” he whispered, his voice husky.

His lips brushed mine before moving down to my neck, leaving a trail of fiery kisses. I felt him reach behind me to turn off the water before he roughly pushed me against the wall.

I gasped, but he’d already lifted me off the floor. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.

One hand held my jaw, tilting my head back so he could kiss my neck, while his other hand supported me, gripping my thigh.

I knew it would leave a mark later, but right now, I didn’t care.

“An…” I moaned into his ear as I ran my fingers through his hair.

He rubbed himself against me and groaned when I tugged his hair to bring his lips to mine.

He tugged my lower lip between his teeth. “Fucking hell…,” he growled. “I need you,” he moaned softly as he positioned himself at my entrance.

I kissed him as I waited for him to enter me. I moved my hips to meet his, and that was all he needed before he thrust into me with a moan.

I gasped as I held onto him tighter, my legs tightening around his waist.

He placed one hand on the wall behind me and the other on my lower back, causing me to arch my back with a muffled groan.

Ragged breaths escaped me as I clenched around him tightly. He pulled out before thrusting back in.

Things escalated quickly, and soon enough, his lips were back on mine.