Share

Their First Dinner Together

Author: Nyxenite
last update Last Updated: 2025-07-16 08:00:37

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVE

The bathwater had long gone cold.

I rinsed myself carefully, wincing as I moved. Each bruise, each raw scrape, felt like a mark of passage. A reminder of his hands. His mouth. His name pressed into my skin until there was no space left untouched.

When I stepped out, I wrapped the towel around my chest and stared at the mirror just long enough to see the aftermath. Faint bite along my collarbone. Fingerprints ghosted across my waist. Thighs marked red.

I didn’t hide them.

Not tonight.

I chose a dress that clung softly to my figure, pale lilac, delicate enough that the bruises bloomed just faintly beneath the fabric. I combed my hair back, clean and damp, letting it fall naturally behind me.

Like always.

But something in the air was different.

The hallway was quiet as I made my way toward the kitchen, barefoot, the ache between my legs pulsing with each step.

I wasn’t expecting anything.

I never did.

Which is why I paused in the doorway, when I saw him.

Dante.

At the dining table.

Already seated.

Fresh shirt. Clean tie. Not a trace of blood on him now. Just… him. Dante Lucchese, in all his still, composed brutality.

And beside his wine glass?

A second place setting.

For me.

“Sit,” he said simply, without looking up from the bread he was slicing.

I blinked. “I was going to make something-”

“I said sit, Catalina.”

Not harsh. Not cold. Just… firm.

So I did.

I moved quietly to the chair across from him and eased into it, folding my hands in my lap. The porcelain was too fine. The silverware glinted. I hadn’t eaten here, at this table, in almost three years.

“Thank you… for the invitation,” I said softly.

He didn’t respond. Just poured me a glass of water.

I picked up my fork, slowly. Still not sure what game he was playing. But I didn’t show it. I took a small bite of the roasted chicken and let my eyes drift over him.

There was something in the lines of his posture, tight, but watching. Something guarded, but not indifferent.

Luca, I thought.

Maybe it took another man’s eyes on me to finally remind him I was still here.

Still his.

I smiled faintly, not at him, but to myself.

Just a trace of amusement at the shift in the air.

I never asked for his attention.

But now that I had it?

I didn’t plan to waste it.

The meal passed in near silence. Every sound echoed too loudly in the room, cutlery, glasses, the soft clink of porcelain against plate.

And then, just as I lifted another bite, he spoke.

“What do you want, Catalina?”

I froze.

“Excuse me?”

His eyes met mine, unreadable. “What do you want to do?”

It took me a second to answer.

“No more sitting around this place,” he added, cutting into his steak. “If you want something… speak.”

I set my fork down carefully.

“You’re asking me what I want to do,” I echoed, tasting the words.

“Yes.”

The moment opened like a window. And I stepped through.

“I’d like to open a bookstore,” I said, voice quiet but sure.

He blinked. Once.

“A bookstore?”

I nodded, fingers curling lightly on my lap. “Not for money. I don’t need profit. Just a small one. Shelves, old volumes, maybe a reading corner. Somewhere I can organize collections. Meet people who love stories too.”

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stared.

Then, as if the silence stretched too long, he leaned back in his chair.

“There are better investments,” he said. “Shops in Florence. A boutique, if you want something more feminine. Jewelry, cosmetics, a gallery. I can fund any of it.”

I blinked. Slowly. Calmly.

Not flattered.

Not surprised.

Just patient.

“I don’t want a boutique,” I answered, folding my hands neatly on my lap. “And I don’t need a gallery. I want a bookstore.”

His brow twitched. Barely noticeable. Like he wasn’t sure if he was annoyed or intrigued.

“You’re serious.”

“Yes.”

His jaw shifted, like he was biting back a thought. But he didn’t argue.

Didn’t press.

He just gave a short nod. “Fine. I’ll have Malcolm find a location.”

“Somewhere quiet,” I added softly. “I don’t need it central. I just… want a place.”

He paused again. Something unreadable behind his eyes. Then he reached for his wine glass and spoke without looking at me.

“You’ll have it.”

I smiled again. This time, it nearly reached my eyes.

“Thank you,” I said.

And meant it.

But I also watched him from beneath my lashes.

Because the man who had spent years pretending I was invisible was now giving me a piece of the world, no matter how small.

And he didn’t even realize…

He’d just given me leverage.

For the first time in years, I’d have a place to breathe.

A quiet corner of the world that was mine, not his, not anyone’s.

Just mine.

A place filled with books instead of bruises.

A place where I could exist… not as his wife, not as someone’s property, but as Catalina.

Simply Catalina.

And that?

That was enough.

Continue to read this book for free
Scan code to download App

Latest chapter

  • My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent    Another Assassin

    CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVE He didn’t notice.Of course he didn’t. Dante never looked up when we arrived.But I did.Our bedroom window was open.Just a sliver. Just enough to catch the wind and let the curtain breathe out into the night like a whisper.It was supposed to be locked. I always lock it. I never forget.We were the last ones to leave this morning, and we came back together.So who opened it?I didn’t ask. I just followed him in, my heels quiet against the marble.He didn’t speak either, he just disappeared into his office, shutting the door behind him like he always does when he wants the world to go silent.Click.Locked.Good.I climbed the stairs alone.Not in a rush.There’s something calming about walking toward danger with your heart steady. Like you already know you’ll survive it.The hallway was too quiet.I pushed t

  • My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent    He Let Her Ride Him Down

    DANTE'S PERSPECTIVE She fucking owned me. And the worst part? I let her. I didn’t stop her when she lead me down on that narrow bed. Didn’t snarl. Didn’t flip her over and drive myself in the way I always did. I just watched her. Watched the way she unzipped her pants, also mine, and crawled on top of me, her thighs straddling my hips, warm and trembling. I felt the heat of her pussy press right against me. Through my restraint. She grinded once, slow, firm. And I twitched so hard I almost came undone like a fucking teenager. Her palms pressed on my chest underneath my shirt, soft fingers tracing the scars she never asked about. Her eyes never left mine, not even when she slid her hand between us, unfastened me, wrapped her fingers around me. I hissed. She smiled. And then sh

  • My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent    Her Bookstore, Finally Opened

    CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVE The door creaked behind me, a low groan of old wood that sliced through the quiet. I didn’t turn. Not yet.I sat cross-legged on the worn rug, an ancient poetry book splayed open in my lap, its pages yellowed and crisp. A breeze slipped through the half-open window, carrying the musk of rain-soaked streets and mingling with the bookstore’s scent, fresh paper, old ink, and the faint vanilla of aging bindings. I’d spent the morning sorting new arrivals, stacking them on the creaky shelves that lined my tiny upstairs haven. My heart was steady, full, like the stillness after a long day. For once, everything felt like mine.Then the air shifted. A hum, electric and heavy, buzzed under my skin. Footsteps thumped on the narrow wooden stairs, deliberate but not rushed. I knew who it was before I looked.Dante.He didn’t knock. The doorframe groaned as he filled it, his broad shoulde

  • My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent    Her Reflection

    CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVE By morning, I couldn’t move. The ache was deep. Bone-deep. I laid there in the sheets that smelled like him, my body still sticky with sweat and stained with his cum. Every muscle screamed when I shifted. My thighs trembled when I tried to close them. So I didn’t. I stayed still. Eyes open, breathing slow, like any sudden movement would shatter something inside me. The bruises, they were darker now. Fresh ones layered over old. A storm of purples and fading blues decorated the softest parts of me. My hips, my ribs, the inside of my thighs. My neck bore the worst of it. Angry prints where his hand had clutched me too tightly, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hold me or destroy me. I pressed a finger gently to one of them and hissed. Still raw. Still his.

  • My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent    He's Snapping at Her Again

    DANTE’S PERSPECTIVEThe basement stank of rust, sweat, and rot.The assassin was already bound to the post when I arrived. Enzo and the others had done their part, stripping him, tying him up like meat on a hook. He wasn’t old. Mid-thirties, maybe. Still had the balls to glare at me like he hadn’t just tried to slit my fucking throat two nights ago.Pity.I didn’t say a word.Didn’t ask who sent him.Didn’t care.My fists moved before I even knew what I was doing. His jaw cracked. Blood splattered. I heard one of his teeth hit the concrete. Something inside me broke with it, but I didn’t stop.I couldn’t.Because every punch… every swing of the whip… every kick into his ribs… wasn’t really for him.It was for Luca.For the way he looked at Catalina like she was some fucking sunrise.For the way she laughed with him.For the towel in her hand, wiping sweat from her bar

  • My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent    He's Jealous, But Won't Admit It

    CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVEThe past few weeks blurred into paint samples, floor plans, and late-night Pinterest boards. I was constantly on my feet. Sweeping. Re-measuring. Adjusting the lighting to find the softest glow.This place, my place, was finally taking shape.Luca parked out front again today. He never complained, even though I dragged him from hardware stores to plant nurseries to antique shops where the air smelled like mothballs and forgotten dreams.“Be honest,” I said as we stepped inside the shop. “Is the ivy too much?”He followed my gaze up the wall where vines snuck up along the old brick like fingers. “It’s charming,” he said, brushing dust from a crate. “But it kinda looks like it’s alive. Like it’ll eat someone.”I laughed. “That’s the point. I want it to feel like a secret garden. Something you stumble into, not a polished chain store.”He gave a little smile, stepping over a roll of carpet I hadn’t la

More Chapters
Explore and read good novels for free
Free access to a vast number of good novels on GoodNovel app. Download the books you like and read anywhere & anytime.
Read books for free on the app
SCAN CODE TO READ ON APP
DMCA.com Protection Status