9. Chapter Nine—Carlotta
Chapter Nine—Carlotta
“Stop hissing like a cat,” Rome mutters when Cassiel eventually sets me down on my feet, taking pains to trail his palms up every inch of my body in feign of making sure I can stand on my own two feet.
I wobble slightly, digging my nails into Cassiel’s biceps to keep upright before I find my balance and shove him away.
His dark chuckle has my stomach flipping back to front, gooseflesh dancing up and over my arms.
“Where the hell are we? I’m not appreciating the whole being kidnapped kink.”
Rome raises a brow. “Really? I was sure it would be right up your street.”
My face flames red, crawling down my neck in blotches and making the flesh there itch, but I ignore it.
This man in front of me has seen every inch of my body. He knows exactly what makes me tick, how to get me off in less than a minute, how to make me squirt until I’m so overtly sensitive I have to push him away.
And the man standing next to him, his toned lats flexing across his back, which he has towards me as he removes his mask and steps away to fill three glasses up with a fingerful of whiskey, has probably heard every single whine, moan and scream his boss has coaxed from me.
I’m not sure which I’m more embarrassed by.
Though, if they think I’m going to reveal to them how I really feel, they’ve got another thing coming.
The first thing I learnt from a very young age is that Bellucci’s keep our cards close to our chest; we never tell our truths.
We never tell our lies, either.
“Where. Am. I?” I grit out, so close to stamping my foot like a toddler.
I can’t help it. I feel overwhelmed and scared, with more than a dash of arousal skittering through me at the realization I’m in a very small room with two very attractive men.
One, of which I’ve already fucked and taken my pleasure from.
No matter how much of a scary set of motherfuckers Rome and Cassiel are, I can’t deny they’re attractive.
Rome, with his six-foot two height, dark hair, dark chocolate brown eyes and slim build is the epitome of most American women’s wet dreams.
While Cassiel, coming to stand next to his boss, side by side, towers even taller than Rome, if only by a handful of inches.
His angelic blond hair is longer on the top and shaved on the sides, with a cheeky smile that highlights a single dimple on one side of his mouth.
Not to mention, his muscular body, those thighs that strain against his jeans, pushing the tight denim to their limits.
He's the type of man you dream of throwing you about inside the bedroom, or at least, I do. He could so easily pin me down—consensually of course—and do whatever he wants to me…
“Carlotta.”
“Hm?” I blink out of my reverie, swallowing dryly.
Cassiel smirks, as if knowing exactly what I’m thinking about, pressing the cold glass of whiskey into my palm.
“I said,” Rome repeats, sipping from the delicate crystal edge of his glass without once taking his eyes from me. “We’re in my office, is that safe enough for you to stop talking about kidnapping?”
I pop my shoulders. “Depends on if the door is locked or not. Am I allowed to leave?”
Rome nods.
I should just walk out right now; turn on my heel and disappear. He’s admitted he isn’t holding me hostage, so why am I not making a break for it?
Gulping back the whiskey in one mouthful, I slam the glass down onto the tray table filled to the brim with half drank bottles of expensive looking liquor.
“Did you rig the system, so we’d be paired together?”
I see Cassiel furrow his brow while Rome shakes his head. “Absolutely not. Nameless is a reputable business, one I came up with and designed, with Cassiel’s help, myself. I would never do anything to jeopardize that. Is what you think I did?”
Straightening my back, I keep my head help high as I meet his dark gaze. “Maybe.”
“No, Carlotta. I may be many things, but a cheat is not one of them. Especially when it comes to personal matters. You and I were matched accordingly to our needs and desires. Just as everyone else who is a member of Nameless.”
For some strange reason, I believe him.
That thought doesn’t soothe my nerves or the jagged edge of my fear, but at least I don’t feel so… exposed. Used.
I don’t feel as if some of the unconventional things I enjoy in the bedroom are being held against me, wielded like a double-edged sword.
I’ve always felt secure with Sir within the intimacy of our bodies. I’ve never felt as if he would hurt me or judge me for my desires. That, at least, hasn’t changed.
“What would you call it, then? The reason we were matched together?”
“I’ve been calling it luck of the draw. You can call it whatever you’d like, Carlotta. Your words aren’t going to override the fact we we’re matched together.”
Unable to think of a witty reply, I turn in a circle, surveying the space I’m in. It’s small, with a bookshelf stuffed to the brim with books and sheeves of paper sitting in one corner and a cluttered desk in another, the large desktop open to the security cameras dotted around the club.
“Is that how you knew I was here?” I point a finger to the computer. “Spying on me?”
“You can call it spying if you want. We call it looking after you.”
Rome takes another sip of his whiskey.
Why, in his own strange way, does that sound like he cares? And why does it have my heart doing a little skip in my chest?
Grabbing the decanter, I fill my empty glass with another two fingerfuls of the smooth amber whiskey, taking a delicate sip this time as I peruse the overflowing bookshelf.
“You read?”
“Yes,” Rome replies at the same time as Cassiel says, “Only if it’s the karma sutra.”
One finger reaching to pull back the leather spine of a bound book, I peer over my shoulder at him. “Is that because you need tips in the bedroom?”
Cassiel chokes on his sip, eyes watering with each thump of Rome’s fist on his back. “I don’t need tips, Princess. Walk that tight little ass over here and I’ll show you exactly how little help I need getting you off.”
I scoff and turn away, only so neither of the two men can see my cheeks redden and my nipples stiffen, poking against the thin material of my white work blouse.
“I read too,” I hear myself say, my voice loud in the otherwise silent office. “Not the classics though, or non-fiction.” I stuff a hefty tome on the empire of the Aztecs back into its correct place. “Mainly—”
“We know what you read, Carlotta.”
“Yeah, Princess,” Cassiel chimes in, his smirk audibly lacing his tone. “You’ve got quite the appetite for smutty romance reads, hm?”
I turn to face them fully, my fingers clutching the glass so tight my flesh mottles white. “How do you—”
“We know everything about you, Carlotta.”
“Everything?”
Rome bobs his head, assessing me like a predator stalking its prey out in the wild.
The anger I’d felt when I first laid eyes on Rome and Cassiel downstairs, rears its ugly head again. I take a step forward, heels clicking against the hardwood floor ominously. “How the fuck—”
“You really thought we weren’t going to research Cristiano’s estranged little sister?
” Rome answers. “That we weren’t going to search for our latest member of The Thirteen?
Don’t be so na?ve, Red. You’re cleverer than that.
Just because you ran away from home, doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten the way our world works. Have you?”
“No,” I spit. “But that doesn’t give you the right to—”
“To what? Surely you tried to find whatever information you could about The Thirteen before you came to our meeting. Surely, you’ve gone home and typed in our names, so you don’t feel so left in the dark?”
I don’t answer, instead peering down at my shoes.
A calloused finger chucks under my chin, forcing me to bring my gaze back to his.
“That makes us even, Red.”
Rome’s right, but I’m not going to let him know I agree him with.
Pulling away from his grip, I fold myself into one of the high leatherback chairs sitting opposite his desk.
I stare out of the window, into the dark depths of New York beyond, ignoring the reflection of Rome and Cassiel standing behind me—an angel and a devil—while I swallow another mouthful of whiskey, enjoying the way it burns down my throat, leaving a pleasant ball of warmth in the pit of my stomach.
We’re silent long enough for both Rome and Cassiel to finish their first glasses and pour themselves another.
I hear their footsteps around me, but I don’t dare look, instead glancing out of my peripheral vision to see Cassiel slump into the seat beside me, while Rome rounds the desk, pinches the top of his tailored trousers and neatly sits himself into his chair.
“Are we just going to ignore the massive fucking elephant in the room, then?” Cassiel breaks the silence, kicking his feet up and resting them on the shiny edge of Rome’s desk.
I wait for Rome to tell him off, but he never does, instead popping his broad shoulder and narrowing his eyes, framed with luscious dark lashes, at me. “Is there anything you’d like to say to me, Carlotta?”
“There’s plenty of things I’d like to say to you,” I fire back.
“Go on, then.”
God, I want to lean over and wipe the smug smile from his face with my fist.
“So, what, you’ve got like a tracker on me or something?”
“Something like that.”
A sound resembling a squawk, and a scream erupts past my lips. “Take it the fuck out. Off. Who do you think you are? You—”
“Calm down, it’s not on you.” Cassiel tries to sooth me with a pass of his hand dragging across my forearm.
I shrug him off, staring at him defiantly.
“I just took a quick peek at your phone and your search history. From there it was a deep dive into your e-reader and your laptop, too. Don’t be mad. ”
“Don’t be mad?” I repeat in disbelief. “Don’t be mad? Are you fucking with me right now? You’ve just admitted you hacked my phone, my e-reader, and my laptop. You know who I am. You know where I work. Where I live. You probably know what color underwear I’m fucking wearing too!”