Her Mafia Valentine by Flora Ferrari

Author:Flora Ferrari [Ferrari, Flora]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-02-06T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12

Chloe

The sound of running water wakes me, slowly. I feel like I haven’t really slept, but the reflex in my mind to panic, to worry is gone. I feel safe at least. I sigh dreamily, hugging the pillow at the memory of Mickey, the knowledge I’m with him now. That I’m his.

I throw my arm out behind me, expecting it to meet his hard body, but there’s only an empty bed. Startled, I sit up, craning my neck to hear the sounds washing through the huge penthouse suite, the bedroom I’m in has the door slightly ajar.

I need to use the bathroom anyway, but choose to follow my ears over using the bedroom’s bath. I follow the sounds, then the smells. What I see in the hallway makes my heart melt, after it skips a beat.

Rose petals. Hundreds, thousands of rose petals, brilliant red and some white; fresh from dozens of roses which line the wide hall, set in crystal vases. I can hear Mickey humming a tune coming from another bedroom before I get to the huge bathroom’s door. He spots me in the reflections from the endless glass and mirrors, pretending not to see me. A coy smile playing on his lips.

He’s wearing a white robe and I suddenly feel overdressed. A bigger part of me is wishing I’d used the other bathroom first. The scent from the bath oils reminds me of Mickey. It’s woodsy, not too sweet and with a little something else, which I can’t place.

From the light outside, overlooking the vast cityscape, I figure it's late afternoon. “Did I oversleep?” I ask confidently, deliberately overlooking the view, roses and obscene luxury of the entire suite. I try and sound as natural as I can.

Mickey cocks a brow and getting up from the edge of the bath, lights a few more candles without turning to face me just yet, keeping his eye on me from the mirrors, which show me every side of him, which is great. Not so great for me, as I can see every angle of my own figure as well.

“I figured you needed it,” he says absently, finally turning to face me, his eyes running over me with satisfaction, which is something new for me to get used to. “I ran you a bath, the flowers were a bit much? But the florist said he had a whole ton to get rid of anyway…”

I can tell he’s lying, but don’t care. It’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever done for me, and despite my own bathroom dilemma, I feel a flush of my own arousal warming through me, heightened by the heady steam from the bath and the sight of Mickey’s chest showing through his robe. His feet in neat white slippers make me smile. A softer side of him to be sure.

“I laid a robe out in the bedroom…” he says absently, his eyes fixed on my chest as I notice a pulsing bulge in his robe, which quickly becomes obvious as his own arousal.

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