Undressed By The Mafia God novel Chapter 117

Chapter 117: I’m Sure You’re Tired

Roses scattered across the ground in arcs leading from the door to the bed. Champagne chilling in a silver bucket. Soft music playing low enough to feel intimate. The bed turned down carefully, sheets crisp and inviting.

She wore a sheer ivory dress. It revealed more than it concealed. The curve of her waist. The softness of her hips. The full swell of her breasts barely contained beneath delicate lace. She had chosen it after hours of standing before the mirror, debating whether innocence or boldness would win his attention.

Tonight, she chose boldness.

Her long dark hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders. She had lined her eyes carefully, painted her lips a deep, inviting red. Every detail considered. Every insecurity buried beneath determination.

She wanted him to look at her.

The door handle turned.

Her breath caught sharply.

When Luca stepped inside, he filled the doorway without effort. Even travel-worn, he carried himself like a man who bent environments to his will. His height alone could make other men hesitate. His presence could silence rooms.

The light caught his face, revealing high cheekbones, a straight, uncompromising nose, lips that rarely smiled fully. And those eyes.

Cold, piercing, ocean-before-a-storm blue.

Even exhaustion did not dull him. If anything, it sharpened him. There was tension in the way he held himself.

His gaze swept the suite once. The roses. The champagne. The candles.

Then it landed on her.

Bianca’s rehearsed words dissolved instantly. All the practiced lines, the welcoming warmth she had whispered to herself in the mirror, vanished. "Luciano..." she managed to breathe. She took a small step forward. Her breasts pressed forward slightly, the neckline threatening to slip lower. She wanted him to see.

Wanted him to want.

He closed the door behind him slowly.

Bianca’s heart pounded against her ribs. She could feel it everywhere. In her throat. In her wrists. Between her thighs.

"Bianca..." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Bianca inhaled sharply at the contact. She reached for his hand immediately, cradling it with reverence, and bent to kiss the heavy gold ring that bore the Genovese crest. "Welcome home," she whispered. She helped him out of his jacket, her fingers brushing the hard line of his shoulders as she slid the fabric down his arms.

His body was solid beneath the tailored shirt. "How was your trip?" she asked, searching his face.

"Long."

She draped his jacket carefully over a chair, smoothing it automatically. She crossed to the small bar cart near the fireplace and poured brandy into a crystal glass.

"Have you seen Don already?" she asked, keeping her tone light.

"Yeah." His jaw tightened faintly. "But we still have more to discuss."

"I’m sure you’re tired," she said softly as she handed him the drink. "Your bath is ready. I made it soothing."

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