Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Bambalina
The clinking of coffee cups and the pouring of bourbon provides a soundtrack for the evening drawing to a close—for me anyway. The men seem to be settling in for the long haul, slackening their ties and lighting cigarettes, their loosened gazes lingering on me a little longer.
I feel a warmth at my back and turn to see Nicolò standing behind me expectantly. I push back my chair and stand, turning to Alessio.
“Thank you for dinner, and for introducing me to your family.”
He waves a hand like it was something he ticked off his to-do list. “It is your family now, Bambalina.”
The figure at my back tenses, sending ripples of longing through my veins. The sensation almost distracts me from the curious pairs of eyes following us out of the room.
We walk silently through the halls, back up the stairs to my room.
Laughter filters out of the dining room and I can’t help but feel like it was at my expense.
When Nicolò presses a large hand to the small of my back, guiding me toward my room, it feels like a branding iron, and the walls I’ve hastily erected come crashing down.
Infused with a need to hold him, bury my head in his chest and neck, run my fingers through his hair and feel his life between my fingertips, my steps quicken, but the appearance of a man outside the door to my room makes me freeze.
“Is this to make sure I don’t escape?” I whisper over my shoulder.
“Or to make sure no one steals you,” Nicolò replies in a hushed tone. I suspect it’s the former. Everyone must know I didn’t walk into this arrangement with enthusiasm.
Gravity pulls at my heart, the vision ahead dashing my plans to hold my lover one last time. The man nods at Nicolò the way all these men seem to communicate—with mutual understanding and a little reluctance.
I open the door and step into my room but turn and curl my fingers around Nicolò’s arm before he can leave. The guard straightens and I flick my gaze up to him.
“I just need a moment in private to speak with my brother.” I bat my lashes in a silent plea. “It’s a sensitive matter.”
The guard’s gaze darts to Nicolò then back to me. “Five minutes.”
I almost drag Nicolò into my room and push the door closed.
Before I can open my mouth to speak, his lips are on mine, devouring me with a restlessness that makes every limb sing with need.
His tongue lashes against mine, dipping, curling, tasting.
His hands are in my hair, around my face, at my shoulder blades, hauling my body into his.
The space between my legs heats rapidly until the familiar ache returns.
“I want you Nicolò,” I breathe into his mouth. “I want you inside me.”
He wrenches his mouth off me and stares madly into my eyes.
When no hair on my body moves, when I don’t retract the words, he slowly shakes his head. “We can’t… I won’t… It isn’t possible.”
Instead of feeling rejected, I feel defiant. I’m standing in this house at the behest of everyone else. I’m asking for this one true wish to be granted, by someone I know wants it as much as I do. He is not going to say no to me.
I reach for him with one hand, the other drawing the hem of my dress up my thighs. The last couple of minutes have soaked me through, and it’s all for him.
I press his fingertips to my damp panties.
“This is yours.”
His eyes widen as his fingers send a message to his brain that I’m speaking my entire truth. He steps into me and a rough, dark exhalation fills my ears. His fingers dip beneath my panties, touching my pussy with a brevity that makes my knees buckle.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispers hoarsely. “So wet and so soft.”
“It’s all yours.” My words are breathy and broken. “Take it. Take me.”
I’m so swollen with lust I forget about the man at the door, so when Nicolò drops to his knees, I don’t stop him.
He doesn’t even remove my panties, just balls them in his fist and licks around the fabric. His other hand fists my ass, drawing blood to a bruise. The combination seals my mouth shut and I cling to his hair.
His tongue worships my pussy, licking up every drop of arousal as it seeps out of me, returning relentlessly to the nub of nerve endings, which he sucks with soft, thirsty lips.
I rest my weight on his shoulders as I start to shudder, then using his hands to open me up, he licks the whole area, sucking my clit between his teeth.
When he hums a thready murmur into my flesh, I fall apart. It takes everything I have to keep my mouth shut, when all I want to do is cry out his name, over and over.
When the climax thins, I realize my fingernails are digging into Nicolò’s shoulders like little razor blades. For once I’m thankful he hasn’t shed his suit.
He gets to his feet and steadies me, then whispers, “God, I needed that.”
I tip my chin, curious because I was the one who just came, not him.
“I needed to taste you one last time,” he clarifies. “To know you still want me.”
His vulnerability should make me melt but it simply solidifies my conviction.
“I don’t just want you, Nicolò. I need you.
” I look deep into his eyes knowing our time is running out and there will be a knock at the door any second.
“I know I can’t ask you to always be here, not when I’m married to another man, but I want to give you something of me that no one else will have.
I want you take what belongs to you, Nicolò. My virginity.”
His gaze hardens. “That is not mine to take. It’s yours. I won’t let you give it away in haste.”
“If you don’t take it, he will,” I say, with sharp-edged determination.
His face changes like I’ve just knocked him off balance.
I know I’ve got him.
“Tomorrow night,” I state, leaving no room for debate. I jerk my head toward the door. “Get rid of him.”
He opens his mouth to speak but I beat him to it. “Now go.”
His gaze roams my face a final time, something prideful swelling behind his eyes. Then he yanks me to him and kisses me hard. I didn’t even know his hand was at my nape.
By the time I’ve caught my breath, he’s gone.
I’m woken to the loud and insensitive sound of someone clattering around outside my room.
Sitting up, I rub my eyes and glance at the clock on my bedside table.
It’s seven a.m., a little earlier than I’d hoped to wake up given that yesterday was filled with intensity and I no longer have to get up for school.
I step out of bed and wrap a robe around myself, then open the door to my suite. The housekeeper who showed me to my room is stomping around with a cleaning rag in her hand, opening and closing closet doors with a roughness designed to disrupt.
I rub my eyes again. “Can I help you?”
She’s making such a racket she doesn’t hear me, so I raise my voice. “I’m sorry, can I help you?”
She stops banging things and looks around. For the first time since I arrived, my eyes meet hers. There’s no kindness in them, only ruthless efficiency.
Her gaze roams mechanically over my robed body, returning to my face bored, then she replies in a brusque tone. “Breakfast is being served downstairs.”
“Oh.” I’m not actually hungry right now but I don’t want to appear rude. “I was hoping I might be able to have something in my room later.”
“Pfft,” she says with a trace of a sneer. “This is not a hotel. You will eat breakfast when Chef serves it, or you order in.”
I step back in surprise. “Right. Well, I’ll wait until lunch then.”
She continues her ineffectual cleaning while I watch uncomfortably.
“You know, I don’t need my room to be cleaned every day,” I say, hoping to warm her up a little. I don’t think it bodes well to be on the bad side of the staff as soon as I move in.
“It doesn’t matter what you think you need,” she says, focusing on a particularly stubborn mark on the dresser. “The don’s orders.”
“Well then, I will speak with him. He did say I could have whatever I wanted. And I want to alleviate you of this responsibility.” And get some privacy back.
I thought she would have looked pleased about my plan but she looks incensed.
“Good luck with that.”
I jerk back slightly. Wow, maybe Alessio isn’t such a nice boss after all. I might be able to compensate for that when I’m settled. If I can take over the running of the house, I can treat these people with a little more kindness.
“The don asked me to deliver a message to you,” she says, tightly.
I clasp my hands together, surprised to note my palms are sweating. “What is it?”
“No more conservative dresses at dinner.”
I swallow hard. I brought several with me—they’re smart and well-cut, but they are not designed to make the mouth water, which is precisely the point. I don’t want an old man drooling over my neckline or the upper arch of my knee.
“W-what am I supposed to wear?”
She doesn’t look at me when she speaks again. “Something tight, small, sexy. He wants to show you off. Having an attractive girl like you on his arm will enhance his reputation as a leader—as someone who is virile and charismatic.”
Virile? I almost choke on raw air.
“You must wear your hair down,” she continues. “None of these chignons or knots. And heels. They must be at least four inches high.”
“But he can’t be more tha—” I’m about to say “more than five and a half feet tall himself” but she shoots me a glare that highly advises I shut my mouth.
“You are a trophy wife, Miss Castellano,” she says, her tone dripping with disdain. “Nothing more. It will serve you well to remember that.”
Part of me feels relieved. Does that mean he won’t expect to consummate our marriage?
My expression must have turned overly optimistic because she seems to take some pleasure in confirming the opposite. “You’ll do all the things expected of a don’s wife…” Her gaze thins on me. “But don’t expect a husband in return.”
Her parting look is blistering and my shoulders only soften once the door to my room is closed and her footsteps are quite some distance down the landing.
I flick the lock, for all the good it will do.
If Alessio or a member of his family or staff want to get into my room, they’ll find a way within seconds.
My thoughts turn to my closet and I hope Allegra packed me a good selection of outfits, not merely conservative ones designed to make me look older than my eighteen years.
When I open the doors, the first garment I see is long, gold and draped in memories.
I reach out and run my fingers over the fabric, letting the sensation carry me back to the night of Tess and Benito’s engagement, when Nicolò and I first kissed.
I’ve vowed never to wear the dress again, but seeing it now, and knowing what the night is going to bring, I wonder if a repeat appearance might be a good idea after all.
I gently pull out the hanger and hold the garment up against the closet door.
A white smear on the hip draws my gaze. I don’t remember staining the dress or damaging it in any way.
On closer inspection it isn’t a mark on the dress I’m staring at.
It’s an enormous gash in the fabric. I sift the dress between my fingers, taking a closer look at the damage.
This isn’t just a tear or a snag. It looks as though someone has taken a pair of scissors to the dress and snipped a large, jagged section out of the hip.
A lump appears in my throat and I hold the fabric to my face catching the edge of a tear.
This is my most special dress, and it’s ruined.
I squeeze my eyes closed and try to memorize what I looked like wearing it, because I won’t be able to wear it again.
But all I can really remember is how I felt.
I was a burning vault of lust, aching to feel my stepbrother’s hands on my body and his mouth on mine.
I was tired from waiting until the early hours, but buzzing at the possibility he might still come home.
He did.
That night, he made me more than a stepsister.
And tonight, he’s going to make me a woman.