I Saved the Mafia Boss—Now I'm His Obsession. novel Chapter 53

Don’t be a silent reader! Your daily comments mean the world to me.

Thank you so much! ❤️

──────────────

Madeleine

𓎢𓎠𑄻𑄾𓎠𓎡

At first, everything felt fine.

Adriano led me through a velvet-lined hallway into a private dining room tucked away from the rest of the estate or whatever this was.

The walls were painted black, the lighting was low and moody, gold accents glinting in the dark. Even the table looked too elegant to touch, set with matte black plates and glistening silverware.

And the food didn’t even look like food. It looked like art, edible sculptures carefully placed with tweezers. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to eat it or admire it.

I sat across from him, knees together, fingers folded in my lap, trying not to squirm because I knew something was coming. Adriano, meanwhile, looked like he was born in a place like this.

Then came the waitress.

She was tall, ridiculously tall. Her long legs were wrapped in sheer black tights and a slit so high it made me forget how to breathe. Her blouse was barely a blouse, her voice sounded like melted chocolate, if melted chocolate could talk, and the way she looked at Adriano made my throat tighten. She already knew his name, and I felt like she knew more than just his name.

She placed the menus down in front of us with seductive eyes aimed entirely at him. Her fingers lingered on the edge of his menu. “If you need anything, Mr. Capone, let me know,” she said, so professional yet so... inviting.

I smiled politely, even though my insides curled tight. Suddenly I felt so small. So plain. My pink dress felt like something a child would wear in comparison to her sultry designer look. I tucked my hair behind my ear and tried not to shrink into myself.

Adriano reached across the table, slid his hand over mine, and tilted his head, “You okay, sunshine?”

I nodded quickly, cheeks burning. “Yeah... I'm fine.”

The lights dimmed even more, now it was just enough for everything around us to blur and melt into darkness.

I was mid-sip of water, when the music changed, it was soft at first and then deeper. I turned and nearly dropped my glass.

A woman was crawling across the floor.

Not walking. Not strutting. Crawling.

She was slow and moved like she wasn’t allowed to make a sound. Her knees pressed into the matte floor with every movement, her elbows bent, her back arched in this way that reminded me of a jungle cat.

I almost got off my chair but Adriano's hand on mine tightened slightly.

She wasn’t wearing... she wasn’t wearing clothes. She only had these sparkling little pasties over her nipples and a thin silver chain that looped low around her waist and draped just enough to call it jewelry. I think there were heels on her feet, shiny black ones with sharp red bottoms. They clicked softly every time her foot shifted for balance.

And on her back, balanced so perfectly, was a tray. A silver tray, like she was the table.

I didn’t know what to do. Or where to look. My whole body stiffened in my chair, like I’d done something wrong just by witnessing it. Was this real? Was this normal?

The woman crawled to our table and then stopped. She kept her eyes down, not at us. Not at Adriano. Not even at the floor. Down.

The hostess came in, lifted the tray from her back like she was part of the furniture. He set down two plates of dessert, something elegant and beautiful and barely recognizable as food.

My stomach did this strange, fluttery twist the moment the woman dropped low, lower than I thought anyone ever should and dragged her tongue across Adriano’s polished shoe.

I gasped, instinctively trying to pull back, but his grip on my hand tightened.

He didn’t seem surprised, he just sat there like this was normal, as if this happened to him every day.

He shifted his gaze toward the hostess standing nearby, “I gave very clear instructions not to be disturbed during dinner,” he snapped in a very cold voice, “Was that unclear?”

The hostess visibly paled, she took a cautious step forward, hands clasped tightly in front of her.

“I—I’m so sorry, Mr. Capone,” she stammered, bowing her head slightly. “There must’ve been a misunderstanding. I’ll take care of it immediately.”

The hostess gave a slight bow, her eyes flicking once to me. She snapped her fingers once, and the crawling woman immediately stopped.

The crawling woman backed away, still on all fours, her shoulders relaxed like she’d done this a thousand times. Then she turned smoothly and disappeared into the dark.

I kept staring at the spot where she disappeared, trying to make sense of what I’d just seen. Then Adriano’s voice cut through the air, snapping my attention straight back to him.

“Dessert,” Adriano said, like it was totally normal that a half-naked woman on her hands and knees had just served it to us and then licked his shoes.

I flinched and looked at him, my heart in my throat.

He had to see it, all the questions flooding my mind, written plain across my face.

Was that what he wanted?

Did he expect me to do something like that... someday?

My face was hot. I glanced down at my own pink dress. Was I supposed to react? Compliment the performance?

“This is…” I started.

Adriano tilted his head at me, “Too much?”

“No,” I whispered, then shook my head quickly, trying to gather the words, “I just... I’ve never seen anything like that. She was crawling and she licked... your shoe.”

Adriano took a slow sip of his wine, “I gave strict instructions that this wasn’t supposed to happen tonight.”

My eyes shot up to his, “Tonight?”

That one word echoed in my chest like a warning bell. Tonight meant this wasn’t new. It meant it happened before. Maybe every time he came here.

My stomach tightened. Every time. That woman, or others like her, down on their knees for him, willing, eager.

I looked down at my lap, suddenly very aware of how out of place I felt here. How quiet I was. How loud everything else was inside my head.

“You come here a lot?” I asked, my voice softer than before.

Adriano set his glass down, the faint click of crystal on wood echoed in the silence between us.

“Often enough,” he said, “Not lately. Not since you.”

I glanced up, “Since me?”

His eyes locked on mine, “I haven’t needed anything from this place since the day you walked into my restaurant,” he said.

A pause.

“And I told them not to involve me in it tonight because I didn’t bring you here to show off what I was. I brought you here so you could decide if you can live with who I am now.”

My heart stuttered in my chest. Because he was being honest. He wasn’t trying to make himself smaller, softer, more palatable. He was just laying it all out in front of me.

I didn’t want him to think I was judging it or him. I’d asked to know what he liked. And this... this was clearly part of it.

But what was this? What exactly did he like?

He intertwined our fingers on the table, “You want to leave?”

I stared at him.

I should’ve said yes. I should’ve said absolutely yes, this place is terrifying and strange and filled with people who crawl across floors wearing diamonds and heels like it’s nothing.

But his hand was warm and he looked at me with a frown, like he was afraid I was going to reject him. So I shook my head, “I want to stay.”

And when he smiled back at me, like I’d just said exactly the right thing, my heart fluttered against my ribs like it wanted to be his.

I picked up my fork with shaking fingers and stared at the dessert. It looked like a glassy dome of dark chocolate, dusted in something gold and delicate, sitting on a swirl of cream so perfectly placed it could’ve been painted on.

I tapped it gently with the side of my fork and it gave way with the softest snap. Adriano watched me as I finally brought a small bite to my mouth, and oh my god.

It was perfect. Creamy, dark, and warm in a way that made my toes curl in my heels. My eyes fluttered shut for a second without meaning to, and when I opened them, he was still watching me—eyes dark, mouth tilted in quiet satisfaction.

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify