Guilty Conscience ~ Abbacchio/Fem Reader

Chapter 37: The Dangerous Art of Undressing (BONUS)

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆Helloooo Fiction Fiends!⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

As promised, if "Chapter 15: The Kitchen" of Betrayal's Embrace recieved 30 comments and 15 star votes, you all would get another bonus chapter for Guilty Conscience—and that's exactly what you did! Across both WattPad and AO3, Betrayal's Embrace has recieved SO much love, so thank you very much for all of your votes and comments on both platforms!!

I should also add, due to popular demand, this chapter is my longest yet. Sitting at a delicious 9.3k words (my chapters typically vary from 2k-5k words) I've written an extra juicy bonus for you all as a special thanks for your ongoing support!!

CONTEXT: Taking place a year after the main events of Guilty Conscience, Abbacchio and Y/N spend an evening avoiding noise complaints in the luxerious city of Rome. While writing this chapter, I've been playing Kali Uchi's new album, "Sincerely," on repeat. That should give you a pretty good understanding of the vibe of this little bonus story <3

Ciao for now, Fiction Fiends!

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WARNING! This chapter contains explicit content including descriptions of pain, injury, and sexual discussions involving nudity.

A high-end hotel room in the heart of Rome's luxurious Parioli district wasn't exactly the fighting ring Y/N had envisioned—but then again, when Abbacchio was seated beside her on a velvet loveseat, his tie loosened and his wine glass already half empty, the world outside and all of it's nastiest men might as well have been absent entirely. Nothing existed beyond the lavish walls of their hotel room, and trouble wouldn't dare find them here, not tonight.

The air was thick with the perfume of spring—the sweet, devouring scent of blooming wisteria that filtered in through the open balcony doors, mingling with the heady smell of aged wine and expensive cologne. The marble floors beneath Y/N's heels were cool and pristine, reflecting the soft amber glow of the lights above.

It was the kind of night that felt as though it had been dipped in gold: fleeting, untouchable, and utterly perfect.

And yet, despite all this elegance, Y/N's mind drifted toward shadows. The sun hadn't fully set, but her thoughts had already begun to curl inward, heavy with the memory of blood-stained streets and whispered names traded in back alleys. You could never be too careful—especially with such a heavy target on your back.

Rome's quietest corners had been their hideout for weeks—anonymous motels, alleyway entrances, burner phones clutched with gloved hands—they did anything and everything to remain undetected. All in service of one mission. And now? Now, for the first time in months, they were able to let the shoulders relax a little more than usual as they double checked every dark corner and possible hiding spot for an enemy's presence.

It was supposed to be a reward—a week-long breather offered by none other than Don Bucciarati himself. A gift, he'd said to them. A gesture of gratitude to his two most loyal operatives. And Abbacchio, of course, had no hesitation in naming his price: the most prestigious hotel in the city, a room with a view, and Y/N at his side.

Abbacchio looked every bit the high-class menace she knew him to be: a royal purple suit cut so precisely to his frame that it bordered on arrogance. She'd picked it out herself just days before, charmed by the way it hugged his broad chest and narrowed around his waist like it had been made for no one else.She spied the beautiful suit in a tailor's front window. She didn't even ask for the price when she wandered into the store and requested to have the suit ready for purchase. Abbacchio was with Y/N back at the tailor an hour later to have the suit cut and cinched to his perfect form. Now, he wore the present she picked up for him, looking as pristine as a prince. His lilac hair had been combed back with half the effort and all the grace, strands falling just enough to make her hands itch with the urge to smooth them away from his sharp, beautiful face.