Chapter 22
CHIARA
I may have been a little drunk, but my memory was fine. I remember every tantalizing detail from yesterday. No one has ever turned me on the way he does, and it should make me all kinds of sad knowing I can’t truly have that with him. Not beyond whatever we have right now.
Once I find a way to disappear, I’ll be gone from his life for good. I should be thrilled, but a part of me—that little part I don’t want anyone to see—wishes I could stay.
I release a silent sigh, tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep. The clock reads midnight, but it might as well be noon.
I wonder where he is right now. He’s avoided me since the incident yesterday. I haven’t seen him since then. I ate alone, watched TV, sat out by the pool fully clothed, and read a book I took from his library.
It was a political thriller.
Kind of fitting, except no heroine was kidnapped in that story. But she also didn’t get the most amazing orgasms from her kidnapper. Not sure who the lucky bitch between us is.
Last night, I only slept two hours when a dream—or maybe I should call it a nightmare—woke me up. In it, Brian held me in his arms, whispering adoration as I smiled with my back to him.
But then I woke up sweating, realizing my lust has now permeated my own sense of reality.
That man doesn’t exist. He never will. He’s a villain in my story, not a hero to crave.
If I were ever to marry anyone, it’d have to be someone as strong as him. Someone who’s not afraid of my father. But he’d actually have to like me first. Kind of hard to fall in love with someone when you’re so busy hating the person, and when they despise you in return.
What would I know about love anyway? I never even had a boyfriend when I was young. My father scared every last one away.
My hand inadvertently slips to my neck, where half of that friendship necklace I gave Dom used to sit. The day Brian took me, I forgot to put it on. It’s still at home. I hope it’s still there.
Dom, I miss you so much.
It hurts to think about him. Even saying his name is painful. Our friendship was once so real, I thought it would last forever. But then he disappeared, leaving me with a gaping hole. To this day, I wonder, are they alive? Or are they dead?
I think my father had something to do with their disappearance, the same way I know he was involved in my mother’s too.
He somehow has a hand in everything he claims to know nothing about.
When I asked him about Dom, he swore to not know anything, claiming he heard Dom’s dad owed lots of money to the bank for the bakery and probably fled.
I didn’t buy it. Dom would’ve found a way to contact me, even years down the line. Often I wonder if he still thinks about me like I do him.
As soon as we met back in third grade, we gravitated toward one another like stars born from the same galaxy. It didn’t matter that we came from very different tracks or that our families would never get along. All of that never stopped our friendship from only getting stronger.
From the day he sat next to me in the lunchroom—a lonely girl with no real friends and a boy who wore his heart in his eyes—we were inseparable. He was my Dom, and I loved him…as a friend at first.
But the night he disappeared was the night I planned to tell him that my feelings for him were blooming into more. We were only thirteen, but I guess as I matured, my feelings for him did too.
The unknown still eats at me. Even with fifteen years between us, I think about him all the time and the man he is today. I bet he’s a good one. Someone who loves fiercely and protects his family. I’m sure he has kids and treats them as sweetly as he did his brother Matteo.
I miss that little boy so much. We had a special bond, he and I. They were all like my extended family.
It’s better to think about Dom happy somewhere instead of dead. I’ve done all I can to find him, searching online for any breadcrumbs, but I’ve come up empty-handed. If they’re alive, it’s as though they’ve vanished.
I’m sure if Dom knew what Brian has done to me, he’d find a way to kill him. Dom was never athletic when I knew him. He was a skinny, short boy, but with his determination, he could’ve taken anyone on. I truly believe that.
And those eyes…he had the greenest ones you’d ever see. They were breathtaking.
When he looked at me, I felt like the most important person in the world. I wonder if he still looks the same.
He was always kind too. Not just to me, but to everyone he met. Dom was like his parents in that way. They were the sweetest couple.
I stare at the white ceiling, fighting the memories of my past. The good ones with Dom, the bittersweet ones with Mom, it’s all there within my mind, tormenting me.
It’s hard to think about those days when I’m trapped with a man who might kill me.
With him, it’s difficult to know. I think he’s deceitful enough to make me think he won’t hurt me, but at the same time, I don’t think he’d hesitate to pull the trigger if he needed to.
Wanting to fuck me isn’t really a reason to keep me alive. He can do that and then dispose of me.
Closing my eyes, I will myself to sleep, but just when I’m about to get comfortable, the loud screeching of tires has me jolting to a sitting position, knees tucked to my chest.
What the hell?
Jumping out of bed, I head for the window. A woman’s high-pitched laughter filters through as I part the curtains. Brian has her up against the hood of his car, her long black hair spilling to one side, and the micro-mini hot-pink dress leaves very little to the imagination.
My heart instantly squeezes, and a cold shudder runs down my spine. My stomach turns at the sight of him with someone else.
He isn’t yours.
But I can’t suppress the jealousy running foul within my heart.
She reaches a hand, her nails riding down his chest, and my pulse slams hard in my ears.
At first he seems uninterested, looking at his cell, completely ignoring her. But then, with a quick jerk of his head, his eyes find mine.
A menacing smile forms on his face. Without his eyes leaving mine, he slips his cell into his pocket and plants his palm on the top of her head, forcing her down onto her knees.
Just like he did me.
My vision blurs, my hands tremble. It’s like a punch to the gut, nerves erupting there, sending a cold wave down my back. I don’t want to watch, yet I’m doing it anyway.
She eagerly kneels down on the concrete as she unbuckles his belt, unzipping him. He pulls out his cock, his eyes still chained to mine as he fists the crown, easing it inside her mouth.
I gasp, shutting the curtains, but I can hear his masculine chuckle as the woman moans around his dick.
He wanted me to see. I bet he planned this to hurt me.
Asshole.
I pull the drapes apart a tiny bit, finding his eyes still at my window as though he knows I’m still watching.
I know it shouldn’t, but my core pulses with desire, seeing him with someone else.
It makes me sick. He makes me sick.
I grind my thighs, watching her go faster, my pussy spasming from the emptiness.
This is just a normal reaction, I attempt to convince myself.
Then why the hell do I want to throw her across the goddamn street?! Why do I want him to do what he did to me in the library, but this time with his cock?
Getting on my knees for him wasn’t just a drunken spell. I wanted it. Wanted him. The liquor only gave me the courage to admit what I wouldn’t.
My hand slinks down under my shorts, discovering myself wet and hungry. The orgasm that’s been building within me since I saw him with that woman roars to life.
Still looking, I rub my fingers around my achy clit, wanting him inside me. Wanting that powerful masculinity pushing down onto me.
His eyes are on the drapes, still only opened enough for me to see what’s happening. He can’t stop looking at the window, even as he grips the back of the woman’s head.
Why the hell does that turn me on even more? I pretend it’s me on my knees, making him grunt.
Does he want it to be me? Is that why he can’t stop staring?
I separate the curtains just enough for him to know I’m still there.
“Fuck,” he groans so loudly, I could have heard him from a mile away.
I work myself faster. Harder. The orgasm soars higher, the need for release so strong I almost can’t make my finger work.
My hand clasps around the curtain, my fist tight as I fire out his name in between gritted teeth, unable to control how I feel, how much I want him. I shouldn’t want the man who's holding me hostage. But I do. I want him, and I can’t deny it, no matter how hard I’ve been trying.
My orgasm rises until there’s nowhere to go but down. I fall, forcing myself into a release that has my body convulsing and my hand pulling on the curtain so hard I open it even more.
And when he sees me, when he sees where my hand is, the corners of his lips curl into a knowing smile. He saw what I was doing, and right now, I don’t give a fuck.
DOMINIC
“Get up,” I order the woman, not allowing her to finish me off, as soon as the curtain closes back up and my intuition tells me Chiara is really gone this time.
It feels like an unspoken betrayal to come in this woman’s mouth. I don’t even know her. Not so much as her name. I don’t care to know it.
She was a random girl from one of my dance clubs.
The reason I was even there was to meet with another investor to help expand the opening of more nightclubs.
But I could’ve had my brothers handle it if I wanted to.
The real reason I went was to try and get the smell and feel of Chiara’s body out of my mind.
I needed to forget her.
But it didn’t help. Knowing Chiara was watching this woman suck me off made me want her even more. Seeing her touch herself was the only reason I let it go on for as long as I did. It should’ve been her on her knees. That was what I wanted. What I was thinking about the whole damn time.
“I’ll have my driver take you home,” I tell the woman.
“I was hoping to come inside.” She twirls a loose strand of hair, her pink lips sliding up at the corner.
“No.” I stare firmly, my voice brisk like the temperature. “The car should be here any second. Have a good night. Thank you for coming to my club.”
“Asshole,” she whispers just as my driver pulls up.
I sit back inside my blue Lamborghini Aventador, driving it back into the garage. No one is allowed to touch it but me.
Unlocking the door from the garage leading into the house, I trudge inside, hoping to see Chiara all pissed.
But I’m greeted with silence, and I hate it.