Chapter 30
CHRISTIAN
I park up and walk around the back toward the kitchen.
Carmela is going out with her sister today, and I get the pleasure (cue sarcasm) of driving them around.
Her sister is verbal menace who sometimes makes me laugh and sometimes give me shit like Ettore is my fucking fault.
I never know which way the coin is going to fall.
Hopefully we’re going where some dipshit might try to talk to them. I’m in just the mood for fucking someone up.
I’m pretty sure Dante’s on to me and what I’ve been doing with Carmela. What I don’t know is how he feels about it. Yet . Maybe he’s still got his doubts. I don’t fucking know. I only know that she’s addictive, and I can’t keep my hands off her.
I lied when I told him I hated her. There was a time when that was true. But now I’m obsessed with her and her pussy, and I’m prepared to take stupid risks for a piece of that. I need to be smarter than this.
Not a fucking chance. It’s like a big wrecking ball comes through my best intentions whenever I’m near her.
I push through the backdoor to find it empty except for Brigida, who is measuring out ingredients on the counter. “Where’s her ladyship?”
Brigida gives me a flat look.
My brows pull together. “Is she alright?”
“I took her coffee up a little while ago when she didn’t come down. She said she has a headache and would leave later.”
“She didn’t tell me.” My brows pinch together as I reach into my pocket to check my cell. Nothing. I tuck it back away. “Did Ettore hurt her again?”
She sighs heavily and puts down her measuring spoon.
“Not that I know of. No more than in the usual ways being married to him does. He didn’t come home last night.
Stayed at Bosco’s club and has not returned.
But she went out for lunch with Helena yesterday, so I expect that was a trial, what with her upcoming wedding to Dante. ”
I rub absently at the center of my chest. I still can’t shake off the strange, sickly feeling roiling in my gut.
Carmela really is clueless about the power she has over me.
If she asked me to slit Ettore’s throat in his sleep, I know I would.
If Ettore’s men didn’t kill me for it, Dante probably would for fucking up his plans.
Only his plans are taking too long, and the image of Ettore bleeding out slowly is fucking compelling.
“Anyone else home?”
She shakes her head slowly. “Christian...”
“What?”
She goes back to measuring ingredients.
“Go ahead. Spit it out.”
“You’re taking risks.” She doesn’t look at me. “Both of you are. I don’t care about you.” She looks up in time to see me raise my brows. “But I do care about her.”
I grin.
She rolls her fucking eyes. “You know there’s something wrong with you, don’t you?”
“So I’ve been told many times.”
“Don’t hurt her, Christian. What is this? A game to you?”
“Brigida, you’re hurting my feelings.” I go for flippant, but it’s not sitting right today.
“You don’t have any feelings, Christian.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
“Alright then, you have strange feelings.”
I can’t argue with that, so I don’t try. “So… nobody else is in the house, yeah?” I press.
There’s a long delay before she shakes her head.
“I’m just going to go up and check on her.”
“She’s fragile. Her heart is an open wound now that your brother is marrying Helena.” She doesn’t bother to mask her disdain. “Especially Helena.”
“Well, shit happens,” I say bluntly.
“Why is he even marrying her?”
Brigida is alright. She turns a blind eye to what I do with Carmela, but I’m under no pretenses. She does that for Carmela’s sake, not mine.
“Ettore wants him to marry Helena,” I say.
“Heavens above! Could he not say no?”
“You’ve been part of this family for a long time and lived under Don Gallo for a year. So you know a suggestion from him is not a suggestion.”
“These are strange times we live in. I remember how different it felt when Mr. Accardi was the Don.”
“I wasn’t around back then. Mrs. Accardi didn’t like me much.”
Her smile is small, but I take it as a win and an indication she is still on my side… Team Carmela. “No,” she agrees. “She did not.”
“Brigida, I’m going to check on her.”
She nods stiffly and goes back to her measuring.
I head through the internal door into the home.
Lucky for me, Ettore is a paranoid asshole, and he doesn’t have surveillance in any of his personal spaces or offices.
I’ve done a fair bit of snooping over the last year.
I’ve been in every room in this house, both the locked and the unlocked ones… everywhere except his office.
I’m whistling as I reach the top of the stairs, turn left, and head directly to their room.
She’s not in bed. The sounds of the shower running come from the en suite bathroom. The door is slightly ajar.
Well, that’s convenient, isn’t it?
I slip my suit jacket off and toss it over the nearby chair. Then I roll up the sleeves on my dress shirt and head into the bathroom.
The shower masks the sound of my arrival. She doesn’t even notice. I’m disappointed the shower door is all fogged up. All I can see is the rough shape of her body.
My dick still kicks against my zipper, knowing she’s all wet and naked, no more than a pace away.
She’s on birth control and has been for a long time.
An overheard conversation between her and Jessica tipped me off, confirmed after searching her room where I found her hiding place in a shoe box at the back of her dressing room.
I still think Ettore is firing blanks, but I can’t say I blame her for not wanting to risk having a kid with him.
It crossed my mind a few times before I found the stash that I might have gotten her pregnant. And yeah, I can’t lie to myself. I like the thought of that, consequences be damned.
Only, times are changing, and the window on the game I’ve been playing is about to close. I knew it would come, and I want it to, want her out from under Ettore so he can never hurt her again.
But I can’t take her from Ettore without losing her myself.
She begins lathering up her hair. I just want to strip down, step inside the stall, and fuck her raw. It annoys the hell out of me that I can’t. That she is not fucking mine. That I always have to be careful.
Her cell phone is lying face down on the vanity cabinet. Right beside it is the necklace Dante gave to her. My brows pull together. Does she always take it off to shower? Does it look like it has been placed there carefully or tossed in a rage?
It would be better for me if she hated Dante. I’m just temporary. She’s not mine, never has been and never will be. Dante’s finally getting his shit together. He’ll come in like the conquering hero, and she will fall into his arms and forget all about me.
That’s okay. I like being inside her, that’s all. This weird shit I’m feeling is the normal reaction anyone would have when they’re about to lose their favorite toy.
Only I’m not normal, and she’s definitely not a toy.
When I glance up to check on her, she’s rinsing out her hair and combing her conditioner through, so I take advantage of the moment, pick up her cell and swipe the locked screen. I put my face recognition in it a long time ago, so it pops right open.
Nothing much interesting. A message to her sister about school. One from her father asking if she can go over earlier. I move on to her internet search history.
She screams.
I lift my head.
“Get out!”
I switch the cell phone off, put it face up on the counter, and offer one of my winning smiles. “Morning, babe.”
She turns the shower off and swipes the glass in front of her face so she can better glare at me. “Christian! What are you doing here?!”
“Waiting for you, clearly.” Leaning against the vanity, I cross my arms and give her my undivided attention.
Her jaw hangs slack before she snaps it shut. “Get out!”
“Nope. I don’t think I will.” I cross my ankles to match my arms. “Do you want the towel?”
“Yes. Yes, I want the towel, thank you.”
I smirk. “Then you’ll have to step out of the shower to reach it, won’t you?”
“What is wrong with you? Get out of my bedroom!”
“Technically, I’m in your bathroom.”
“Whatever!”
“Sorry, babe. No can do.”
She growls and stomps her foot. It’s fucking cute.
Still, this is an opportunity right here.
I’m sure as fuck not going to pass her the towel and spoil the battle of wills taking place.
I’ve never seen her completely naked. Just parts here and there.
But I’ve had my hands all over her, and she sure feels fucking nice.
Dante wants to see her, doubtless, to explain in person he’s not a complete douchebag marrying Helena and to reaffirm his claim. The end date on our little hate fucks is closing in fast. The prospect of losing access to her pokes at the reckless center of my brain.
Chaos and danger. Give me both and I’m in my happy place. I smile. “I can stand here all day.”
She must take me at the word because she growls again, pushes the shower door open, and reaches for the towel.
A squeak escapes her when I snag the towel before she can wrap it around her. A tug of war ensures. It’s childish and puts a bigger grin on my face.
“Christian!”
“Yeah, babe?”
Her chest is heaving with her rage, and my eyes are glued to her quivering tits.
Damn, they are perfect. All of her is perfect.
All wet and glistening, her long hair clinging to the sides of her face, neck and shoulders.
My eyes skip downward to that perfect little gash, the one my dick’s been buried inside every chance I get.
She releases the towel and makes a dart for the bedroom door.
I snag her around the waist, hoist her up, and plant her ass on the vanity. The fight goes out of her. We’re both breathing heavily. A little gasp escapes her as I push her legs wide and step into the gap. My eyes roam over her.
“Like what you see?” Her voice holds challenge, maybe uncertainty.
My eyes lift to meet hers. “Yeah, I really do.”
CARMELA