Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Grace
I cannot believe that just happened.
All those years of longing and pining…. and damn it. I hate that the sex was as good as I imagined it would be. But… to act like that after it? Just, what the fuck?
The car comes to a halt as a traffic control holds up a stop sign for a delivery truck that is reversing onto a building site.
My mind is running at a million miles per minute, I’m shocked. Shockder than shocked, and shockder isn’t even a word.
We wait for the delivery truck as I go over the last hours’ events. You know what….. this is good.
This is the closure that I needed. The proof that man I stupidly pined over for all these years, doesn’t even exist. He’s not sweet and loyal underneath. He doesn’t care about anyone but his selfish self.
Gabriel Ferrara is a bona fide bastard to the bone.
Just like the world thinks he is.
“Just going to take a call,” Mark tells me, he’s wearing a headpiece, so I didn’t hear it ring.
“That’s fine.”
He taps his ear to answer. “Hello,” he says, he listens for a moment. “Yes okay.” He listens again. “Tomorrow is fine.” He listens again. “Okay, I’ll chase it up. Goodbye.” He hangs up.
Must be Mark’s girlfriend or something, I wonder what it’s like to date someone like him where he’s working all hours.
I go back to my daydream, also known as the murder plot.
You know what…… fuck him.
Who the hell does he think he is, seduces me in my office, fucks me on his desk, comes inside of me? He didn’t even offer a fucking condom; I probably have an STD now.
I run my hand down my face in disgust.
Ugh.
What the hell, that was a complete fucking disaster.
Thank fuck I’m moving, and I never have to see him again.
I picture how cold he was, do you want me to walk you out?
No.
I want your dick to fall off, that’s what I want, asshole.
How dare he have a good dick!
I’m infuriated.
Rich, handsome, endowed….. selfish, mother fucking fuckface.
I glance up, why is it taking so long to get home? Where even are we?
“What’s this way?” I ask.
“I had to take a detour for the accident back there,” Mark replies.
“Oh.” I didn’t even notice an accident, that’s how preoccupied I am. “Okay.” I slump back into the seat and continue my pity party for one.
The car finally pulls up, “Here you go, Grace.”
I frown as I peer out the window. “This isn’t my house, Mark.”
“Mr. Ferrara called and asked that you be dropped back at his house.”
“He did what?”
The door opens from the outside and Gabriel looks down at me, “Get out.”
“Go to hell.” I spit.
He grabs my hand and pulls me out of the car, and I snatch my hand out of his. “Do not fucking touch me.”
The doormen at his fancy building all turn to see the commotion.
“Up. Stairs,” he growls in a whisper. “People are watching.”
“I am not going anywhere with you,” I whisper angrily. “You think you can treat me like that.”
“What did you want? The whole office to know that we just fucked on my desk?” he whispers angrily. “Upstairs now.”
I stare at him, my mind a clusterfuck of confusion.
What?
He grabs my hand and leads me into the building, but I’m too mad to focus on a thing, next minute we are in the elevator, the doors slowly close and we turn to face them.
My angry heartbeat is hammering in my chest, and I rip my hand from his, “Do not fucking touch me, Gabriel. I swear to God, I’m about to lose my living shit with you.”
He smirks, clearly amused. “Anger is an aphrodisiac to me, Grace. I wouldn’t push your luck; my control is hanging by a thread as it is.”
I cross my arms and glare at the back of the doors, I have never been so infuriated.
“You’re an asshole,” I spit.
“I have been told that once or twice.”
“Per hour, no doubt,” I fume, “And just what the hell makes you think you can ejaculate inside of me without asking? How fucking selfish can you be? I probably have an STD now.”
“I always wear condoms; trust me, you do not have an STD,” he snaps. “And I know you’re on the pill, I just…. I couldn’t help myself.”
“How the hell do you know I’m on the pill?” I fume.
“I see them in your purse all the time and on occasion, I even look at where you are in your month.”
“What?” I explode.
“Well, some days you hate me more than others, and I want to know why?”
“Because you’re an asshole, Gabriel. That’s why I hate you more on some days. Today being a prime example.” I can hear my angry heartbeat in my ears. “I don’t even know why I’m here with you?”
“But you are here.”
“I was ambushed.”
He does smile this time, and it’s waving like a red flag in front of a bull.
“I’m not one of your bimbos, Gabriel.”
“I am well aware of that.”
“So why bring me here?” I huff.
I want answers, all of them. Start talking, motherfucker.
He stands silently as if contemplating my question and the elevator doors give a soft ding as we arrive at the floor. They open and my heart drops.
Fuck.
The elevator has opened straight into his apartment, or should I call it an…. Italian Colosseum.
He steps out of the elevator, but I stay still as I look around.
I’m too shocked to move.
“Out.” He grabs my hand and pulls me out of the elevator, and I stumble forward.
I swallow the lump in my throat as I look around.
Jeez.
I always knew that Gabriel Ferrara had expensive taste, but this is next level. The walls are a soft hue of gold. The ceilings are sky high and huge dark wooden archways interconnect the rooms. The arches remind me of something you would see in an historic church or something. Grand and oversized.
The furnishings are all beautiful dark wooden antiques, and huge navy and maroon Aubusson rugs are on the dark timber floors. Beautiful artwork in huge gold gilded frames is hanging on the walls.
It’s like a step back in time to a King’s palace or something.
“Welcome to my home.” His eyes twinkle with pride.
Suddenly I remember the mission, that’s right, I hate you.
“It’s nice,” I lie through gritted teeth. It’s not nice, it’s fucking fabulous, but I’m not giving him the satisfaction of gushing over it.
His dark eyes hold mine.
“Don’t look at me like that.” I drop my shoulders to try and look tough and in control.
“Like what?” Before I can answer the question, he cuts me off. “Like I want to taste every inch of your skin?”
I feel myself melt into a puddle, don’t start talking dirty, I won’t stand a chance.
“Yes.”
“But I do, Gracie. I cannot hide it. I won’t even try to. I haven’t even touched the surface with the things I want to do to you.”
Arousal begins to steal my brain, “You shouldn’t be such an asshole then,” I whisper, that didn’t sound convincing, even to me.
“Do you know me at all?” He smiles as he lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my fingertips. The hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention.
Oh….
I watch him softly kiss my hand. “That’s the problem, I do,” I whisper distracted.
He’s just so…….
“I’m not your plaything, Gabriel,” I say as I pull my hand from his grip.
“But I am your toy to play with.” He smirks. “Only too happy to donate my body to science.”
“You think I’m a science experiment?” I squeak.
He tips his head back and laughs out loud, and I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from smiling too.
“Would you like a drink?” he asks.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether I’m getting an apology for your assholeness or not.”
His eyes dance with delight, and I get the feeling that it is me who is the toy.
“Gracie.” He takes me into his arms and drops his lips to my neck, “I am sorry for acting like myself at the office.” He bites me and goosebumps scatter up my arms, “I should have acted like someone else.” He teases me as he bites me again.
“Because the very least you deserve is for me to act like I want the entire office to know my business.”
He bites me again and my body melts against his as I grab his hair.
Okay, what the hell is this?
He’s taunting me while not apologizing, and my body is lapping it up.
Asshole.
I take a step back from him, “I’d like that drink now, please.”
“Of course.” He licks his lips as his eyes hold mine and the darkness behind them sends a shiver down my spine.
I get the feeling that I’m going to get it.
Hard.
He walks into another room off the living room and down a corridor, and I tentatively follow.
Holy…… what the?
It’s a bar. A fully fledged huge bar, the walls are dark green, and the bar is a rosewood timber.
He begins to pour the drinks as my eyes look around the space.
There’s a pool table, a card table, even a roulette table. It’s like a damn casino in here. To the right, there’s a sunken room with a black circular leather couch around a pole.
Huh?
“What’s the pole for?” I ask.
“Strippers,” he says casually as he takes a sip of the drink he’s just poured.
I stare at him as my brain misfires, what do you even say to that?
“You have strippers come to your house?” I gasp.
“Of course, I do. I certainly don’t want to go to their house,” he replies casually as he passes me a heavy crystal glass.
What the….
I’m shocked, shocked to my core. He has a fucking stripper pole in his bar room.
I take a sip and wince, so strong. Ugh it’s horrible. “Is this stripper juice?”
He raises his glass in the air with a cheeky wink, “Something like that.”
“Figures,” I reply dryly. I imagine all the hot women he must have here and insecurity creeps in. What could he ever see in me?
Damn it, maybe I do need this liquid bravery. I take a huge gulp, and it burns all the way down.
Ugh…. Oh, hell.
Perhaps tonight’s stripper may be throwing up after drinking this, but whatever. He asked for it.
“Sit.” He points to a stool at the bar and without thinking I do as he says and drop to the seat. He sits down beside me; his eyes linger on my lips as he takes a slow sip of his drink.
He’s imagining something, God knows what, but it’s perverted, I know.