Chapter 37
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
“The best secrets are the most twisted.”
― Sara Shepard
Angelo
“When are you back in New York? I’m up to my neck in bullshit. Scarlett’s throwing a tantrum—LeRoy called me this morning because she’s threatening to cancel her New Year’s show in LA tomorrow. Meanwhile, I’ve got the ball here to handle. I swear, it’s like babysitting drunk toddlers.”
Romaniev snorted. “Next week. Chill out, Lazzio. I’ll deal with her later—don’t blow a gasket.”
The doorbell cut through my rant.
I made my way to the door, grabbed the food from the delivery guy, handed him a generous tip without a word, and carried the bags to the kitchen.
My phone stayed pinned between my shoulder and ear as I dumped the bags on the counter and muttered, “I swear, I need a New Year’s miracle or a straitjacket. One of the two.”
As I unloaded the bags, the sound of giggling and little feet racing echoed through the phone. Romaniev’s voice followed, halfhearted and already resigned to his fate.
“Girls, be careful with the vase,” he said, like he already knew they wouldn’t be.
Sure enough, a loud crash came next, followed by a chorus of Russian curses.
I scoffed.
Romaniev might be a fucking monster, the kind of man you wouldn’t dare cross, but when it came to his daughters? They ran him like a puppet on strings.
The guy followed their every move like a whipped puppy, all bark and no bite.
“Gotta go, Caia’s gonna be pissed,” he muttered before hanging up.
I focused on dinner—Italian from Vittori’s restaurant—because there was no way I’d risk poisoning the poor woman with my cooking.
I didn’t care about much, but Jade dragging out food poisoning for the next decade? Yeah, that was a level of misery I wasn’t signing up for.
I transferred the food into casserole dishes and popped them into the oven to warm. Plates, silverware, glasses—the works—got laid out on the table. She’d take the wine; I’d stick to water.
Someone had to keep their head clear, and it damn well wasn’t going to be her.
As I set the table, my mind betrayed me—again.
The image of Jade on her knees, her lips wrapped around my cock, tore through my thoughts for the hundredth time tonight. My jaw tightened, my groin stirred, and I cursed under my breath.
Over the years, I’d seen every shade of Jade: impatient, spoiled, and maddeningly bitchy, especially when the world had the audacity to spin on its own timeline instead of hers. When I didn’t give her the attention she demanded, she always found a way to force my hand.
Spilling her coffee on my desk “accidentally.”
Leaving her makeup in my office, then tearing the place apart to find her precious lipstick.
Calling my desk phone relentlessly, detailing every irrelevant second of her day and hanging up only when I stayed silent—boycotting me for a week if I dared to cut her off.
Then there was the Hermes stunt—dropping $120K on the company card “by mistake.” Or eating my lunch in front of me, claiming she was starving and I was “built to survive without it.”
The woman had worn down every ounce of my patience and shredded every last nerve.
And still, she was the one person who truly knew me—knew exactly how to push every button and get what she wanted. Things no one else would even dare to ask for.
And fuck, if I’d known how sweet her pussy would taste—how it would feel wrapped around me—I would’ve had her years ago.
But all that waiting?
Goddamn, it was worth every fucking second.
A dark laugh escaped me as I finished setting the table.
The woman was insane.
Completely insane.
And undeniably, irrevocably mine .
I was consumed by her—her wicked mouth, those dark eyes that dared me to come closer, her body that looked like it had been carved just to ruin me.
I was obsessed.
Fixated on claiming her, and it was working.
She could throw all the insults she wanted, but her eyes had betrayed her every single time.
They’d burned with desire, flickered with longing she was too proud to admit.
She had been fighting it, sure, but she was losing.
And tonight?
Tonight, I’d break her.
I’d take her, ruin her, and make her mine. Mind, body, and soul.
“I thought you were the one cooking, Angelo,” she said, twirling a forkful of linguine cacio e pepe into her mouth.
She dumped so much Parmesan on top that, as an Italian, I almost had a heart attack.
Alongside the pasta, there was bruschetta and chicken Parmesan.
For dessert, I kept it light with lemon tiramisu, a little sweetness to balance all the cheese.
“I did.”
She shot me a look. “Liar.”
“I told you I have many tricks up my sleeve, Miss Whitenhouse. You might see me as just your boss, but trust me, I’m a man of many talents.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Really? What’s one?”
I leaned back. “Thought four orgasms in one night was already overdoing it,” I said, letting my voice drop low. “But I guess I underestimated you. You’re harder to satisfy than I thought.”
“Hmm… is that so?”
“Trust me, you haven’t even come close to getting what you really want. But I’m more than happy to keep proving it.”
“Prove it, then, Lazzio.”
I stayed quiet, a sly grin tugging at my lips.
She has no clue what’s coming for her.
Dinner dragged on, but my focus was shot.
We talked about the masquerade ball tomorrow—paintings instead of sculptures—but honestly? I didn’t care.
All I saw was her.
The way her lips parted with each bite, the quiet hum of satisfaction as she savored her food.
It wasn’t just her beauty—though, fuck , she was stunning.
It was the way she carried herself: effortless, confident, impossible to ignore.
And that fucking dress.
Black lace, sheer enough to tease, clinging to every inch of her body with ruthless precision. No bra, no shame—just bare skin and a challenge that dared me to look and lose.
That dress wasn’t sexy; it was sinful.
Jade Whitenhouse was the devil put on this earth to test me.
And boy, did I fail.
She didn’t just step into the darkness—she commanded it, a queen of something wicked and dangerous, ready to ruin me with a single glance.
Jade wasn’t my type. She wasn’t soft, wasn’t sweet—she was fucking impossible.
But impossible was exactly what had me hooked.
Those dark eyes, bloodred lips, every calculated move—she was destruction wrapped in lace. And I wanted every piece of her, even if it killed me.
When dinner ended, I handed her a slice of lemon tiramisu and a cup of sweet mint tea to help her relax.
“I’m quite sad Scarlett couldn’t perform for our party tomorrow night,” she said, taking a slow sip. “I really love her songs.”
I leaned back on the couch. “She’s talented, but she’s a fucking mess, too. Don’t get me wrong, she’s my cousin, and I’m protective as hell, but damn, she’s a handful.”
She hummed, crossing her legs. “Maybe that’s why her songs are so beautiful. Broken souls are the most creative, in my experience.”
Her eyes flickered to mine for half a second—just long enough to light a fire in my chest—before she dropped them to her cup, setting it down on the coffee table.
Broken souls are the most creative.
Something in my head snapped into place.
“What’s the story behind your tattoo?”
Her eyes, heavy and half lidded, met mine. “A broken heart.”
“Who the fuck broke your heart?”
She smirked, as if for some reason she found it funny.
“Why were you in such a shitty mood this morning?”
“When did you get your tattoo, Jade?”
She sighed, clearly bored. “Seven years ago. What happened today, Lazzio?”
“A year before you applied to work for me.”
She nodded, her eyes tracing every inch of my face, like she was mapping me out.
“Who broke your heart, Jade?”
The words burned my chest.
Whoever did it, I’d rip him apart, piece by piece.
“An Australian. Tall. Dark hair. Just like you.”
The lie in her voice wasn’t hard to spot.
I could practically taste it.
“Jade—”
“What happened today, Lazzio?”
Bitter amusement twisted in my throat.
No one had ever brushed me off like that before.
She was put on this earth to humble me, and fuck, she was doing it damn well.
“Are we playing twenty questions now?”
She crossed her arms, her tits pushing up so fucking high I had to fight the urge not to stare. “Why not? You’re the nosy one?—”
“Greg is the one who kidnapped me.”
She gasped. “What?”
When I left Aspen and landed in New York, I’d headed straight to the gym in the penthouse. I had to burn off the rage, the nerves, that ticking bomb inside me. I ran for what felt like fucking hours, my feet pounding the treadmill, sweat pouring down my face.
But it wasn’t enough. Not even fucking close.
I grabbed the heavy weights, slammed them onto the walls, and sent glass flying everywhere, shattering the gym.
Everything had clicked when his words had come rushing back.
He had been in the Hamptons when my parents took me for my birthday, staying a couple houses down.
His fucking house, the one he’d bought because his spoiled daughter Spencer liked it.
When my parents called the cops, he’d played the good friend—helped them search for me, all while hiding the truth: he was the one who had fucking kidnapped me.
All these fucking years, he had been right under our noses, slithering around us, poisoning everything he touched with his venom.
The bastard who had scarred me for life.
Jade must’ve felt the heat of my anger, because she moved closer, her knees pressing into the couch, her hands grabbing my face.
“How did you find out?” she asked.
“A feeling.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Kill him.”
“Like you killed his mistress?”
My eyes locked onto hers, brows furrowing.
How the fuck did she know?
She read me like an open book, her hand threading into my hair, pulling me just close enough. Her lips brushed mine.
“I put two and two together, Lazzio. I told you I’m very clever.”
Her lips grazed mine again, her breath warm.
“ Sì ,” I rasped. “ Lo uccido, come la sua amante. Senza pietà. ”
“ Senza pietà ,” she repeated, her tongue sliding over my top lip, a deep groan tearing from my chest. “No mercy.”
I grabbed her hips, pulling her closer until she was straddling me, her sweet body pressing into mine. Her arms wrapped around my shoulders, fingers digging into my skin as she leaned back, giving me just enough room to see the way her chest moved with every breath she took.
My hand moved up, brushing her hair out of her face, the soft strands slipping through my fingers.
“Would you kill me too, if I betrayed you?”
I grabbed her throat, my fingers tightening just enough to feel the delicate pulse beneath my palm.
I pulled her closer, until her lips were a hair’s breadth from mine.
“No, amore . I could never kill you.”
Just the thought of her lifeless body on the floor, void of her soul, made my stomach twist in disgust. It was a vision so wrong, so fucking unnatural that it churned something deep inside me.
She smiled, the curve of her lips brushing against mine. “Why?”
“Because you’re everything I never knew I needed.”
Her pulse quickened beneath my fingers.
She swallowed hard, her chest rising against mine as her eyes softened.
“If you died,” I murmured, “I’d burn the world to get you back. Tear it apart, piece by piece, until nothing was left. Then, I’d build it all over again, just for you, Jade.”
Her hands slid across my chest as she dipped her head.
Her tongue dragged along my neck.
“You’re getting soft, Lazzio,” she murmured. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
I gripped her chin, forcing her to look at me.
My thumb tugged at her bottom lip.
“Obsession isn’t softness, Jade. Learn the difference.”
Her smirk was infuriating.
She leaned closer, her eyes dipping to my mouth.
“Obsession, huh?”
Her fingers found the first button of my dress shirt, popping it free.
I caught her lips with mine, swallowing the sound that escaped her throat. Her nails dug into my chest, dragging heat through my skin as another button came undone, then another.
“Why don’t you go down on women, Angelo?”
I blinked, taken aback.
“Don’t act surprised, boss. Word gets around. Seems the ladies just can’t wrap their heads around a so-called Don Juan who avoids eating pussy and hates missionary.”
I kept quiet as her lips trailed along my neck, biting and sucking before she licked her way up to my ear.
“But don’t worry,” she whispered, her breath hot against my skin, “your reputation as a sex god is still somehow magically intact. Even with all those… little limitations.”
I ran my tongue over my teeth. “I don’t do it because I don’t like it. Eating pussy? Too fucking personal. I fuck from behind because I like being in control, and take what I want.”
Control was everything to me.
Part of me knew it stemmed from what had happened when I was younger—being tied up, powerless. That shit sticks with you. The idea of losing control again? It felt like drowning.
But yet… with her, I didn’t mind at all.
Actually, it was, for some fucking reason, almost freeing .
I wouldn’t tell her though—that she’s the only woman I’d ever eaten out. Not because I thought it was shameful, but because I liked knowing that she was the only one whose taste I’d known.
That secret? It was fucking delicious. Just like her.
She tilted her head. “But why do you do it with me, Angelo?”
“Because I want to give you everything , Jade—everything you need, everything you crave—even if it means being at your mercy.”
She’d hinted enough over the years what she loved, and I had known the second I touched her, all my boundaries would vanish.
I was so fucking desperate to be hers—aching, losing my mind wanting it.
I wanted her to fucking claim me.
“I wanna try something,” she whispered against my lips.
I arched a brow.
She worked each remaining button free, her lips never leaving mine.
When the shirt was gone, her nails scraped across my chest.
Her tongue followed her hands, tasting, claiming, biting down just enough to make my dick tighten.
I grabbed her hair, twisting it in my fist, and pulled her head back so I could see her properly.
Her lips glistened, her eyes dark with something between mischief and lust.
She didn’t falter, leaning back in to press her mouth to my neck, her teeth grazing my jaw.
Just when I thought I’d take her right there, she pulled away, stood up and held out a hand to me.
Her heels clicked against the floor as I followed her.
She didn’t glance back, just grabbed her bag and tossed it onto the kitchen island.
Then she dragged a chair into the center of the room.
“Sit.”
I sank into the chair, the wood creaking under my weight. “Jade?—”
She didn’t let me finish, her arms sliding around my shoulders from behind. Her lips brushed my ear, her breath teasing my skin.
“I’m going to help you let go of something.”
My muscles tensed. “What?”
But I already fucking knew.
I pushed against the chair, ready to stand, but her hands clamped down on my shoulders.
“Please, Angelo,” she murmured, circling around to kneel in front of me.
Her knees pressed into the floor as her palms settled on my thighs.
“No,” I growled, my hands gripping the edges of the chair.
Her fingers moved, her nails scraping the fabric of my pants.
“ Please. ”
“No, Jade.”
She leaned in closer. “Do you trust me?”
“This has nothing to do with trust,” I bit out.
Her eyes bored into mine. “Do you trust me, Angelo?”
My laugh was low, and laced with frustration.
I wanted to rip her apart for even asking, to remind her that she already fucking knew the answer.
For six years, she had been my shadow, my weapon, my solace.
She knew every dark corner of me, every fractured piece of the man I was.
“With my life.”
She stepped back and unzipped her dress. It slid down her body in a whisper, pooling at her feet.
My stomach twisted, a raw ache clawing at my chest as I stared.
No fucking bra.
Nothing but a scrap of black velvet between her thighs and those sharp-as-sin heels.
She moved around me like a predator, her finger trailing along my chest, shoulder, neck. Then it was gone, and the sound that followed made my gut clench.
A click.
Handcuffs.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
She was tying me to the chair.
Just like he fucking did.
Her voice cut through the haze of my spiraling mind. “Let it go, Angelo. That night, that pain—it doesn’t own you anymore. I’m here. Let me give you something else to hold on to.”
Her hands were on my wrists, the cold bite of steel snapping against my skin as she secured one, then the other.
“I want you to feel something else tonight. I want to replace that darkness with me .”
A crack ripped through my chest.
The memories came flooding in like a tsunami.
Blood on the floor. Knives glinting under dim light. The rancid taste of bile. The muffled screams in my own throat. The fucking sound of their footsteps on those stairs—heavy, unstoppable.
I thrashed against the cuffs, the chair groaning under the force.
My vision blurred with fury and disgust, the haunting weight of my past pressing down like a goddamn vice.
“Jade,” I snarled, my voice breaking, raw. “Take these off. Now. ”
Her hands settled on my thighs, grounding me, and when I finally looked at her, her eyes burned with something I couldn’t name.
Something that cracked me wide open.
“You don’t trust me?” she murmured, her lips brushing against my jaw, her nails sinking into my skin.
“I trust you,” I choked out. “That’s not the fucking point?—”
She crushed her mouth to mine, swallowing every curse and protest before I could spit them out.
Climbing onto my lap, she pressed herself against me, her bare tits warm against my chest, her nails scraping my skin.
“A few years ago,” she rasped, her teeth tugging at my ear as her hips rolled against me, “you shot down one of my ideas. Turning the museum into a nightclub for a night.” Her nails dug into my back as her breath skimmed my jaw. “I was fucking livid .”
I yanked at the cuffs again, the metal biting into my wrists.
But her voice dragged me back to her.
“I went home that night, spent hours pacing and cursing you out in my head, and finally passed out,” she said, leaning back.
Her hands gripped my shoulders, her tits inches from my face as she rocked against me harder, her breath hitching, soft moans spilling from her lips.
“In my dreams, we had the same argument. But instead of telling me to leave, you shoved me over your desk and fucked me from behind. Hard, rough, until I forgot what we were even fighting about. You made me come so violently my own scream woke me up—your name on my lips, my sheets soaked, my nipples so tight they hurt.”
I let out a harsh curse, the raw image hitting my mind.
She grabbed my chin, her tongue darting out to trace my lips, before sucking my tongue into her mouth and biting down.
The kiss that followed wasn’t gentle—it was all teeth, heat, and wet desperation.
She pulled back, her chest heaving as she caught her breath, her lips swollen and glistening.
“Ever since that night, I’ve imagined you fucking me,” she moaned, her hips grinding down harder, her head falling back. “Every man I’ve ever met has been a pathetic excuse for you. None of them could even come close.”
“Jesus, Jade,” I groaned, my cock throbbing, trapped against the soaked fabric between us.
Her head snapped forward. “I’ve imagined you bending me over every goddamn surface, ruining me until I couldn’t walk straight. In my mind, you’ve fucked me in your office, in your car, in your private jet, even on top of the Lazzio family dining table.”
I hissed through clenched teeth as she leaned in, her tongue dragging along my bottom lip before biting it hard enough to make me taste blood.
“Years, Angelo,” she whispered, her lips brushing mine. “ Years of wanting you to use me, fuck me, ruin me, make me yours so completely I’d forget where I ended and you began.”
Her tits pressed into my face, and I bit down on her nipple, hard enough to make her scream, her nails raking fire down my chest.
I licked over the welt, my jaw tightening as her body trembled against me.
Her hand gripped my chin, forcing me to look at her.
“Please, don’t stop this, Angelo. I’ve waited too fucking long.”
Her breath was ragged, her body a vision of a beautiful, dark dream.
She stood up, her skin flushed, chest heaving, and that wicked smirk curling on her lips as her tongue slid along her bottom lip.
She took off her thong, her juices running down her thighs, glistening.
She turned slowly, deliberately, letting me see every inch of her body, her back arched just enough to reveal that fucking tattoo etched along her spine.
It disappeared beneath the curve of her perfect ass, and I couldn’t fucking breathe.
She lifted one leg and placed it over mine, her hands gripping my knees for balance. She lowered herself onto my lap again, pressing her back against my chest. Her ass ground against my cock, teasing me.
She tilted her head back, her lips brushing my ear as her hand snaked around to rest on my throat. “Wanna taste me, Lazzio?”
I pulled against the cuffs hard enough to feel the skin of my wrists split, the sting barely registering over the heat of her body grinding against mine.
“Fuck, yeah.”
She laughed softly, the sound a dagger to my sanity, her hips rocking harder, her slickness soaking into me.
She turned her head just enough for her lips to brush against mine. “Your wish is my command.”
With that, she placed her hands firmly on my knees.
Then— fuck .
She leaned forward, her pussy practically dangling in my face.
I didn’t need a second invitation.
I dove in, my tongue lapping up her sweet juices, savoring every drop.
So fucking delicious.
I sucked on her clit, feeling her soft body respond beneath my mouth while her nails dug into my skin. Then I bit it, hard.
“Ouch!” she gasped.
“Get closer,” I growled, sinking my teeth into her ass cheek.
She shifted backward without a word, her legs trembling as I buried myself between her thighs.
Her body locked up, thighs trembling violently as my tongue thrust deeper, drawing out a strangled cry. She bucked against me, grinding harder. Her taste was addictive, bitter and sweet, dripping down my face as I fucked her with my tongue.
She shattered—hips jolting, gasps turning ragged, her nails clawing my knees as she gave in completely.
For the first time in years, the ghosts in my mind didn’t get through.
She had burned them out, erased them with the way she fell apart.
No darkness.
No memories.
Just her.
“God,” she muttered, barely able to breathe as she slumped backwards on my lap.
A second passed before she turned her head, looking at me with a wicked smile.
“I hope you’ll remember that forever,” she rasped. “Every second of it.”
I couldn’t even respond, still choking on the fact that she’d managed to make me forget.
Actually forget.
She stood, unhooking the cuffs. My wrists burned as she rubbed them. Then, without hesitation, she climbed back onto me, her legs locking me in place, her mouth crashing down on mine.
I fisted her hair, yanking her head back. “I should punish you for this. Or maybe just fuck you until you can’t even stand.”
Her grin widened. “Do both.”
I didn’t waste another second.
Grabbing her ass, I stood, carrying her like a trophy, her legs locking tight around my waist. Her nails scored down my back, her teeth grazing my jaw as she whispered sinful promises that seared straight to my core.
I threw her onto the bed and fucked her until she passed out, soft snores breaking the silence. Her body, flushed and tangled with mine, felt like it had always belonged there—as if the universe had been rearranged just for this.
For the first time in years, the ghosts didn’t claw at my mind. They didn’t even dare show their faces. She hadn’t just quieted them; she’d annihilated them, erased their existence, left only herself in their wake.
Jade Whitenhouse wasn’t my salvation; she was my damnation. My curse. And somehow, that made her perfect.
She owned me in ways no one ever had, in ways I hadn’t even thought were possible.
I wasn’t just hers.
I was now ruined for anyone else.