Married to the mafia King

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of activity.

First we went to a high-end hair salon. I stared at the walls, which were filled with tasteful black-and-white photos of famous models standing next to a man with silvery hair presumably the owner of the salon.

Adriano slipped the counter girl 500 euros, and she immediately put me in a seat. Then she went into the back of the shop.

The man in the photographs came out of the back and made a big fuss over me, saying how beautiful my hair was but how ugly it was cut.

“But don’t worry, when I am finished, it will be ”

He did a chef’s kiss in the air.

I have to say, he certainly delivered.

While Adriano sat nearby, the owner washed my hair with lovely rose-scented shampoo, then spent 40 minutes with his scissors snipping and cutting.

I noticed Adriano watched the door of the salon more than he watched me…

And his hand was always near his jacket…

Inches away from his gun.

But nothing unexpected happened.

At the end, the owner washed my hair again and used a blow dryer on low heat

And when he turned me around to look at myself in the mirror, my mouth dropped open.

“You like?” the silver-haired man said with a huge smile.

I couldn’t say anything. I just nodded dumbly.

“Damn,” Adriano muttered behind me. “If you were a goddess before, now you’re Aphrodite.”

“Venus,” the owner said, using the Roman instead of the Greek name.

“Venus,” Adriano agreed.

Five minutes later, we were out on the street and people’s heads were turning as I walked by.

I was always used to a little attention from men…

But not like this.

Adriano wrapped an arm around my waist and held me close. “I’m going to have to beat ’em off with a stick.”

“I’m sure you’re more than capable,” I teased him.

“Yep. I’ll make an example out of the first one, and nobody else will try it again.”

I pulled back a little as a jolt of fear ran through me. I remembered all too well what he’d done in the alleyway near the betting parlor.

Adriano looked down at me and smirked. “I’m kidding.”

I leaned back in and put my head against his shoulder.

“…sort of,” he added.

We had a late lunch in the old part of Florence. We sat on a second-floor balcony next to a trellis covered with vines, and had oysters and glasses of chilled white wine.

“Don’t fill up too much,” Adriano cautioned me. “Dinner’s going to be fantastic.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

After lunch came a trip to a makeup boutique.

And not just any boutique…

But one that sold proprietary blends created specifically for the clientele.

“How can I help you today?” the woman at the counter said. She wore understated but fashionable clothes, and her face was pretty

But her makeup was flawless.

A work of art.

“We have a very special dinner this evening,” Adriano said.

“Ah.” The woman peered at me like a painter evaluating a canvas. “You have beautiful bone structure.”

“Uh… thank you…”

“I’m thinking something light,” the woman said. “Your natural beauty shouldn’t be hidden, only accentuated.”

“Um… sure.”

The woman worked on me for about 30 minutes…

And when I looked in the mirror, I couldn’t believe what I saw.

The models in the pictures in Valentino’s?

Claudia Schiffer, Elle MacPherson, Gisele Bundchen?

The women I had idolized my entire life, who had worn the most beautiful dresses in the world?

I could have stood next to them and not been entirely out of place.

I looked like one of the women I had dreamt about being when I was eight years old.

Adriano stared at me in wonder.

“You really are Venus,” he murmured.

I smiled, and my eyes welled up the tiniest bit with tears

“STOP!” the woman commanded. She immediately gave me a tissue. “Don’t you dare ruin my masterpiece.”

I laughed and dabbed at my eyes.

“No crying. EVER,” the woman said sternly. “The mascara won’t run, but I don’t want you messing up the rest of it.”

“I won’t,” I said, definitely intimidated. “I promise.”

“Good. I think this color of lipstick is best…”

Five minutes later, she was ringing up a tube of the lipstick and a small compact with some of the makeup she’d used.

I happened to see the receipt, which included a section for SERVICES.

730 euros.

I stared at Adriano in shock.

“What?” he said.

“The price,” I whispered.

“Botticelli didn’t skimp on supplies when he painted ‘The Birth of Venus.'”

“Amen,” the woman said as she placed the makeup in a tiny bag.

We returned to the tailor shop at 5 PM.

Guillardo saw us, looked away then did a double-take as he looked at me again.

“Bellissima,” he said after a couple of seconds.

Very beautiful.

He wasn’t leering or over the top just very matter-of-fact.

“Thank you,” I said shyly.

He nodded, then looked at Adriano and gestured towards the back. “I have it for you in the dressing room, Signore.”

“Okay,” Adriano said as he reached for my hand.

The little man raised one eyebrow.

I noticed the tailor’s reaction, even if Adriano didn’t. “Um… I can wait out here.”

“No,” Adriano said, then turned to Guillardo. “Unless you have bullet-proof glass and want to lock up the front door.”

I suddenly realized why he hadn’t let me out of his sight the entire day…

And it made me nervous.

Didn’t seem to faze Guillardo, though. He just dipped his head like As you wish.

“Please, Signorina, accompany us to the back.”

When we were all in the dressing room, Adriano stripped down to his boxer briefs again.

Seeing as we had company, I looked away… although I still sneaked a peak now and then.

The tailor helped Adriano dress, and when they finished…

Adriano looked magnificent.

Like a Hollywood movie star out of the 1950s.© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

“Meraviglioso,” Guillardo said in his understated tone of voice.

Marvelous.

I couldn’t disagree.

Adriano grinned. “You approve?”

“A thousand percent,” I said.

The tailor nodded slightly. “The signorina has good taste.”