Chapter 24
FRANKIE
I have the lapels of my fluffiest feel-good bathrobe pulled up around my jaw, my body slouched into it like a personal blanket fort.
I’ve been wrapped up in this old thing since leaving the tasting room in disgrace.
Sitting on the edge of the massive tub in my private en suite watching hot water pour from the tap, I swirl in some dried lavender and expensive bath salts that claim to invoke “calm and peace.”
The only thing that could possibly bring me calm and peace right now would be seeing Jessica getting her ass handed to her for the trick she pulled.
I don’t know how she managed to get away with switching up the barcodes, but I’m one-hundred-percent confident that she’s behind this fiasco.
Being grounded in that theory isn’t stopping me from feeling guilty and ashamed, though.
I’ve been continually second-guessing myself, worried I may have been the culprit after all.
What if I really did screw up this badly?
Hundreds of thousands of dollars have been lost to this one mistake, and if I really am to blame…
Dante will never let me set foot inside the business again.
Even if he did, the staff will have lost all respect for me anyway.
Which means I’ll be trapped inside this mausoleum of a house, alone, with nothing to do to pass the time.
Slowly dying here, useless and stagnant.
I dump more bath salts into the water. No.
I’m not going to let that happen to me. It’s clear as day that Jessica staged this whole thing to drive a wedge between me and Dante—and fuck up my career while she was at it—and she’s going to come clean, one way or another.
I just need to figure out a way to strong-arm her into admitting that she set me up.
The tub is full. I turn off the water and am just about to slip out of my robe when I hear the lock on my bedroom door snick. The back of my neck tingles even as the hint of masculine vetiver cologne tells me Dante has come in. Without knocking, of course.
He’s just the kind of asshole to saunter in here and lecture me about the mistake I supposedly made. I feel him coming toward me, hear his footsteps pause just inside the bathroom. He’s watching me. Probably leaning against the door frame, pouting, arms crossed.
I keep my back to him, stirring the water, ignoring him on purpose as I inhale the scent of lavender. Resentment floods my body. I want him to leave. The guilt is enough of a punishment on its own. He doesn’t need to bust in here just to make me feel worse.
Finally, I can’t take it. I give a cursory glance behind me. Maybe if I let him get it out of his system now, he’ll leave so I can slide into the tub.
“What do you want?” The words snap from my lips.
One corner of his hard lips tugs up. It’s not quite a sneer, but close enough.
“I have a question for you, Francesca. There’s something I want to know.”
“O-kay.” I gesture impatiently for him to go ahead.
“How…” He takes a step closer. “The hell…” Another step, making my heart skip. “Are you going to make up for this catastrophic loss to my winery?” And then one more.
He’s now standing right in front of me, glaring down as if he actually expects me to respond to that.
“You lost way more than money the day you hired Jessica,” I tell him. “Why don’t you scrutinize her assets and ask her how she’s going to pay?”
“Seriously, Francesca.”
Getting to my feet, I cross my arms to hold my anger back. “I am being serious. I don’t know how, but she’s behind this. I used the correct barcodes. I triple-checked everything.”
He scoffs. “Just because you don’t like someone doesn’t mean you get to blame them when shit goes wrong.”
“Thank you for those words of wisdom, oh great and noble master,” I say, my voice dripping sarcasm.
I wish he was standing closer to the window. I’d push him out so I can take my damn bath.
Before I can blink, Dante is on me. He presses my arms to my sides and drives me back against the wall. My heart pounds, fury heating my skin even as tingles of desire race over me.
His hand finds my throat, pressing there firmly as he jacks my chin up, forcing me to look at him. “I am your master.”
I’m too angry to be afraid. “You and your ego can fuck directly off. I’ve had more than enough of your machismo bullshit.”
I wiggle against him, knowing full well that he’s not about to let me go.
Dante smiles before he dips his head, his lips finding my ear. His warm breath ghosts over the delicate skin, sending shivers through my body. His husky voice is hard and unfeeling.
“And yet…you never tell me no, do you? You never put a stop to it. You want it. Every single time.”
Shame heats my cheeks. My lack of backtalk is response enough to egg him on.
“If I put my hand between your legs right now, I’ll find you soaking wet, won’t I? Even though you hate me.” He smiles, drawing a slow breath, and my nipples perk tight against the soft fabric of my robe. “That’s pretty fucked up, Francesca.”
“Don’t call me that!” I push him just enough to drive his chest back from mine, but it only makes him look at me like a hungry wildcat ready to pounce.
I’m already imagining the feel of his warm, smooth, naked skin on mine.
His fingers pulling at my nipples and palming my breasts as he roughly works his way down my body.
Without another word, he flings me over his shoulder and carries me out of the bathroom, then tosses me onto the bed.
He’s on top of me in an instant, pulling at the belt of my robe and spreading the sides open.
I push at him, twist and turn, but it’s no use.
My desire gets stronger and more demanding even as I tell myself that I don’t want this.
That I won’t allow him to use me this way.
My protests sound hollow, even as I think them, so I don’t dare give them voice. Because he’s right: I don’t mean it. I do want him to use me this way. Over and over and over again.
Dante shrugs out of his shirt. I’m desperate to see his broad, bare chest and run my hands over his pecs, the hard ridges of his abs.
Curling my fingers into my palms, I struggle to resist. Now he’s on the bed straddling me, clamping his thighs around my hips.
My robe is wide open, my breasts and belly bare to his view.
He rakes my body with a starving look and I swear I could orgasm just from the appreciation and want in his expression.
Why is he looking at me like I’m the best fucking thing he’s ever seen?
He’s obviously playing me to get what he wants.
Feeding my undeniable lust for him so he can turn me into his personal sex kitten.
Pulling my body up until I’m in a sitting position, Dante pulls the robe from my arms, tossing it away.
Then, with one hand, he unfastens his pants and kicks them off.
My heart flips to see he’s commando and the best part of him is full, thick, and jutting out proudly.
I lick my lips as the ache between my legs kicks up another notch.
My mind spins like I’m drunk, and my inhibitions are completely gone.
He can do anything he wants to me and I’d welcome it with open arms… and legs.
Fuck, this has to stop. I think it with complete clarity. He always wins. Always.
The fight goes out of me and I go limp. He takes my wrists in his hands, but I don’t resist. I don’t move a single finger. I just…lay there. Passive. He frowns, then goes still as well.
“You’re just going to let me win?”
Ah. So this is a game to him. Bastard.
It’s all a game to him. My life. My career. My feelings. Everything.
“You won the moment my father agreed to this stupid marriage contract. I’m tired of fighting you, Dante. And I’m tired of trying to prove myself to you. I don’t care anymore. Do what you want.”
His jaw works back and forth. Turning my head, I look away and wait to see what he’ll do next. A small part of me hopes he’ll leave. But then he stretches out fully on top of me, his hard cock wedged between my thighs. Instinctively, my hips strain to meet his, but I stop myself.
Dante glares down at me, and I glare back.
“Tell me I’m the only one,” he commands.
It might be the last thing I was expecting him to say. “What? I don’t—”
“Tell me I’m the only man you want. Just say it!”
Fine. What’s his deal? “You’re the only man I want.”
He juts his hips down, his cock sliding between my pussy lips. I can only spread my legs enough to allow him the smallest access, but it’s enough. Oh, hell, it’s enough.
“Again,” he says.
“You’re the only. Man. I want.” I tease out the words, locking eyes with him.
“Again.”
He makes me say it over and over, that I want him, that I need him, only him, his hands, his mouth, his cock.
As I repeat the words like a mantra, I sink into the pleasure, losing myself in the all-consuming way that’s become all too familiar with this man.
He kisses his way down my body, pulling a nipple into his hot mouth and pressing it with his lips.
My fingers dig into his hair as he kisses his way down over my belly, leaving shivers behind.
I’m desperate for him to touch between my legs.
His lips and his fingers meet there at the same time and I spread my thighs wide for him.
“Fuck yes. Dante. I need you,” I pant.
“Again.”
Closing my eyes, I roll my head back. I’ll say anything he wants if it means I get to come.
“I need you.”
His fingers part me, his tongue darting straight to the most desperate spot.
I can hardly hold still as he feasts on my clit and traces my sensitive inner lips with his fingers.
I’m swollen and tingling and holding his head tight as I ride his fingers, his tongue, feeling the wetness dripping out of me as he laps it up.
It’s so good I can hardly breathe, moaning so loud I’m sure everyone in the house can hear me.
I’m close…so close…almost there…oh, yes, oh God…
My eyes sting with sudden tears, my body useless to fight as I reach the point of no turning back.
“Say it!”
His voice rips through my ears just as I start to come, and I gasp out, “I love you.”
The shock of what just came out of my mouth is lost as my orgasm overtakes me in a hot rush.
My pussy is pulsing with deep contractions when Dante slams his cock into me and rides me hard, pressing me into the bed so the entire frame shakes against the floor.
My release never quite died away—it builds again with each thrust, flaming hotter… hotter…
Dante groans and ruts two hard, quick thrusts into my greedy body. I come again with a forceful flash of pleasure that makes stars burst behind my eyes.
He rolls off me, one arm flung over my chest. I’m staring up at the ceiling, trying to catch my breath, when the reality of what I just said creeps to the forefront of my mind.
Oh. God. Why the hell did I say that? He most definitely didn’t tell me to.
I turn my head to the side and catch his gaze.
There’s something open and raw on his face, just beneath the surface, an expression I can’t fully comprehend because it doesn’t match the man.
He looks…vulnerable. For a moment, I think he’s about to say something.
Or maybe pull me into his arms and stay with me.
But then he slips off the bed, wordlessly gathering his clothes, leaving me shivering without his warmth. I close my eyes and listen to the quiet sounds of him dressing.
His feet pad softly across the carpet.
I don’t watch him leave.