Chapter 21 #2
A flush creeps down Chantel’s throat, and I let her feel the full weight of my gaze as my fingers ghost over her lower back.
Pressing into the warmth of her skin, I blaze a slow path up the valley of her spine and settle my palm on the base of her neck.
A beat of silence passes as we stare at each other, and I know she senses the voyeurs around us.
But, in the moment, she doesn’t seem to remember why she cared what they thought.
I let them take their fill as I pull her closer to whisper in her ear. “What’s the matter, principessa? Nothing smart to say now?”
“You’re eye-fucking me in front of everyone,” she counters.
“Am I?”
She heaves out an annoyed breath. “You’re so—”
“Charming?”
“Is that what they’re calling deranged these days?”
A shadow of a smile passes over my face. “Tell me in an hour.”
Her eyes narrow suspiciously. “What does that mean?”
“You’ll see.” My fingers trail the length of her bare back, and goosebumps ripple over her.
“Audrey, do you happen to know where the powder room is?” Chantel asks.
“I’ll show you,” Audrey volunteers.
Chantel pulls away, and I track her with my gaze as the two women head toward the main salon. As my eyes do a quick sweep over the crowd, I find I’m not her only observer. One guest in particular leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
From the fly bridge, Marco watches her with a narrowed gaze as he sips from the whiskey in his glass. Between the beatings he took from me and Mariella, his face still looks like he got gutter-stomped. Bruises in various stages of healing mar his face, but even that won’t stop him from a party.
“Hello, gentlemen.” Lucinda Wainwright approaches us, glancing up to see what has my attention.
“I’m surprised he’d even show his face here after the way he acted at his party,” she says. “I hope Chantel wasn’t too rattled.”
When I meet her gaze, it’s obvious to all of us I don’t know what she’s referring to.
“He was acting like a lunatic,” Daniel explains. “He tried to drag her upstairs by force, and when she refused, several other men had to step in before he hurt her.”
“That was after he called her a whore and demanded that she have sex with him,” Lucinda adds. “I was about two seconds away from macing his ass before the men intervened.”
Slow-burning rage bleeds through me as I think back on that night, realizing it must have happened after I stepped outside. I wasn’t there long before Chantel appeared, and I could tell something was off.
I attributed it to what had happened with her near-fall and Marco’s general stupidity. But hearing this account only adds to my regret that I let Angelo stop me from murdering him at Eden.
Knowing what I do now, it’s a mistake I won’t make twice.
Lucinda seems to sense my dark thoughts, but she simply offers me a smile. It’s an indication of how far Marco has fallen when she can’t muster up an ounce of concern for his fate.
“I’ve always liked you, Cristian Vitale.” She pats my shoulder. “You two look good together.”
With that parting remark, she drifts back into the crowd just as Audrey and Chantel return.
“Did we miss anything exciting?” Audrey stares after Lucinda in question.
Daniel defers to me with a sidelong glance.
“Nothing of significance.” I press my hand to Chantel’s lower back. “But I need to steal her away.”
The women say their goodbyes, and I keep Chantel close as we cross the deck. Social hour is over, and it’s time to finalize my intentions for the night.
I find what I’m looking for once we reach the aft lounge.
Chantel nearly skids to a halt when she notices Bastien and Jolie, but it’s too late for her to run. They’ve already spotted us.
“Why did you bring me here?” she whispers under her breath.
I settle my hand on her hip, urging her forward as we reach the point of no return. I’m well aware of what I’m about to do, and what the consequences could mean for my family. But I’ve already made my decision.
Words alone mean nothing to Chantel. She expects that everyone will eventually betray her, and I’m not giving that fear another second to breathe.
“Bastien.” I nod at him as we approach, tightening my grip on Chantel when I feel the tension in her body.
Something passes between her and Jolie, and Jolie’s expression sours as she takes in the two of us.
“Cristian.” Bastien swings his gaze to the woman beside me, disappointment flickering in his eyes.
“I’d like you to meet Chantel.” I draw her closer. “My future wife.”
She stills beside me, holding my gaze for a heartbeat. Then she reassembles her armor and turns to face the man before us.
“Jolie, give us a few moments,” Bastien says.
She hesitates as her eyes fall on me, searching for any signs of lingering hope. But when she finds none, she walks away with her head held high.
“Choosing passion after all?” Bastien eyes me curiously.
I give him a subtle nod.
“A bold choice.” He studies Chantel, and for a moment, I can see that he gets it.
I don’t doubt that he’s wondering how his life might have turned out if he’d never let go of his first choice. For all his efforts of convincing me that compatibility was what mattered, I realize now that story was never for my benefit. He needed to believe it himself.
“I respect your honesty,” he says finally. “If this is what you’ve chosen, I can only say that I hope she’s worth it.”
I feel Chantel’s gaze on me as I nod, and he bids us a clipped goodbye.
“Cristian?” Chantel searches my eyes. “What did you just do?”
“Not here.” I lead her through the crowd and down the narrow side deck until we reach the empty bow.
As soon as we’re alone, she pulls away. “Are you insane?”
“Occasionally.”
“This isn’t the time for sarcasm,” she huffs.
I reclaim the distance between us, wrapping my arm around her waist as I tip her chin up. “You started this game, Mrs. Vitale.”
“As a joke.” She lets out a shaky breath. “That didn’t feel like a joke.”
“Consider it me easing you into the idea.”
“You just told that man I’m going to be your wife in front of an entire audience,” she says. “If that’s easing me in, do I want to know what the alternative was?”
“Probably not.”
My gaze drops to her lips, and the thought of her imprint on my cock makes me hard all over again. I’m tempted to fuck her right here, but I have other plans for tonight.
Threading my fingers through her hair, I wind it around my fist and angle her head back. Her pulse thrums as my lips coast over the delicate column of her throat, breathing in the sweet scent of lemon and vanilla.
“You know I can’t marry you,” she says breathlessly.
“Can you stop talking?” I nip at her. “I’m busy.”
She clutches the lapels of my suit, a soft hum of pleasure spilling from her lips. “Are you going to finish what you started earlier?”
I’m about three seconds away from considering it when my sister interrupts us.
“Anyone care to tell me how long this has been going on?”
Chantel straightens, peering around me as she smooths out her dress and offers Mariella a contrite look.
“It’s complicated—” She begins. “I wasn’t hiding it from you, I swear. I just found out that he’s…Bran.”
Mariella’s face morphs from confusion to shock as she processes that.
“Oh god,” she groans. “You’re the masked man from Sanctum?”
“Been talking about me?” I slide a possessive hand around Chantel’s back.
“This is so weird,” Mariella mutters. “I need a drink.”
“I’ll come with you,” Chantel volunteers.
When she glances up at me, there’s an edge of uncertainty in her eyes as she waits for my reaction.
It’s a natural response for her, bracing for the inevitable fallout that will come when she makes a decision for herself.
At some point, she was under someone’s control, and her body hasn’t forgotten what that felt like.
I’m aware that every one of these moments with her is a test. Just like that night at Black Velvet when she watched Tiffany offer herself up to me, Chantel expects the worst. It makes it easy for her to keep up her defenses, because there’s a high likelihood that most people will fail her. Humans are predictable that way.