Tempting The Mafia Don

5

Bianca POV

The villa was quiet after midnight, the kind of silence that let dark thoughts breathe. I sat on the velvet chaise in our shared sitting room, legs tucked beneath me, wearing a simple silk slip that clung to my body. Valentina paced in front of the tall windows, still buzzing from the reception. Her emerald dress lay discarded on a chair, leaving her in lace lingerie that screamed confidence. My older sister had always been like this—loud in her desires, fearless in pursuit.

But tonight, my obsession burned hotter than hers.

Cristiano Moretti. His scent still lingered in my mind from when he saved me. Those dark eyes. The way his jacket had warmed my skin. I wanted him with a quiet madness that scared even me. I pictured him above me, powerful hips driving deep, filling me completely while I whispered his name like a prayer. No engagement would stop that.

Valentina stopped pacing and turned to me, eyes bright with challenge. “I can’t stop thinking about him, Bianca. That look he gave me when I congratulated him? He’s already cracking. I’m going to seduce him first.”

I tilted my head, keeping my voice soft. “You sound very sure.”

She laughed, low and bold. “Of course I am. I always get what I want. One private meeting, one touch, and he’ll forget that ice princess fiancée. I’ll have him f*****g me senseless before the month is out.”

Jealousy twisted sharp in my chest, but I smiled sweetly. This was my moment. “Then let’s make it interesting, sister. A wager. Whoever seduces Cristiano first wins. The loser… has to step back completely. No interference.”

Valentina’s eyebrows rose. She studied me for a long second, then grinned. “A bet? With you? You’re on. But I warn you, little sister—I play to win. And I don’t lose.”

“Neither do I,” I replied quietly. My heart raced. She thought this was a game. For her, it was passion and victory. For me, it was deeper. Obsession. I would manipulate, scheme, and claim him in ways she couldn’t imagine.

We shook hands, sealing the wager. Her grip was firm and excited. Mine was steady, hiding the storm inside.

“Rules?” she asked, pouring us both more wine.

“No sabotage of the other,” I said. “Pure seduction. First one he takes to bed wins. We compare notes… but only after.”

Valentina clinked her glass against mine. “Deal. May the best sister win. And Bianca? Don’t hold back. I want this to be fun.”

I sipped slowly, letting the red wine coat my tongue. I won’t hold back, I thought. You have no idea.

Valentina launched into her plan immediately—sending him a teasing text tonight, something about “business advice” that would lead to dinner. She described in detail how she would wear something tight and low-cut, how she would brush against him, whisper filthy promises until he snapped.

I listened, nodding, while my mind spun its own web. I was quieter. Smarter. I would get close through subtlety—returning something of his, offering quiet support during syndicate matters, letting him see the depth in my eyes. I would make him crave the calm danger I offered. Then I would strike.

Later, alone in my room, I lay on the bed and let the fantasy take over. My hand slipped between my thighs, finding myself already soaked. I imagined Cristiano’s rough hands spreading my legs, his mouth devouring my p***y while I moaned helplessly. His thick c**k stretching me, pounding hard, claiming me as his. “Bianca,” he would growl, filling me with hot c*m. I came quickly, biting my lip to stay silent, his name a whisper in the dark.

Neither of us intended to lose. Valentina thought her boldness would win. I knew my patience and manipulation would destroy her chances.

The next morning, tension hummed between us at breakfast. Valentina checked her phone every few seconds, smiling when a reply came. “He agreed to a quick meeting tomorrow,” she announced triumphantly. “Step one.”

“Congratulations,” I said softly, meaning none of it. I had already arranged something different—a quiet delivery of documents to his office through a mutual contact, with a personal note attached. Nothing overt. Just enough to remind him I existed. That I saw him.

Days blurred as the bet consumed us. Valentina returned from her lunch glowing, describing how Cristiano’s hand had lingered on her waist, how his eyes had darkened when she leaned close. “He wants me,” she boasted. “I could feel how hard he was through his pants.”

I smiled and congratulated her again, but inside, fire raged. That night, I made my move. I showed up at a small syndicate gathering where I knew he would be, dressed modestly but with my hair loose and lips painted soft red. I stayed in the background until he noticed me.

“Bianca,” he said, voice low when we found a moment alone near the bar. “You keep appearing.”

“I try not to be a distraction,” I murmured, looking up at him through my lashes. “Unlike some.”

His gaze intensified. He stepped closer, the air thick with tension. “Your sister is… direct.”

“And I’m not.” I let my fingers brush his arm lightly. “But I see you, Cristiano. All of you. The weight you carry. The fire you hide.”

He didn’t pull away. For one perfect second, his hand touched my lower back, sending sparks through my body. I wanted to drop to my knees right there.

Valentina appeared then, slipping her arm through mine. “There you are, sister.” Her smile was sharp. She knew the game was on.

We left together, but the competition had ignited. Back home, we compared small victories without revealing too much. Valentina bragged about stolen kisses and heated words. I stayed vague, planting seeds deeper.

Neither of us intended to lose. Valentina pushed harder, wearing sexier outfits, sending bolder messages. I worked slower, learning his routines, offering the kind of quiet understanding that powerful men craved. My obsession grew with every encounter. I touched myself every night thinking of him, imagining winning the bet and claiming him exclusively.

One evening, as we prepared for separate plans, Valentina looked at me in the mirror. “This bet… it’s making me want him more. You too?”

“More than you know,” I whispered.

We both smiled, but our eyes held secrets. Sisters. Rivals. Obsessed.

Cristiano Moretti didn’t stand a chance. I would win this bet. I would have him—body, soul, and every dark desire. And when I did, even Valentina’s fire wouldn’t pull him back.

The wager had begun. And I played for keeps.