33. Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Two
Olivia
B eing told I am to meet with the Dolmino associates after spending an entire day with Alessandrio in bed was like having someone not just rain on my parade but piss on it. He pissed on my parade. I would have rather spent the next two days with him, feeling his silken fur beneath my fingertips and discovering new muscles, just relishing in his form and its indomitable strength. Instead, he has kept his distance, scattering papers and photos across the countertop and ‘ preparing’ me to play at Mafia boss. A. Mafia. Boss. Me? I would laugh if I wasn’t so terrified by how suddenly very serious this all feels.
“This could go either way, and I need you prepared,” he told me and that had alarm bells ringing in my head. He set the rules, and I had to follow them. Which found me alone in my bed in the nights leading up to the meeting with the Dolmino associates. That loneliness let old fears settle in, fears that he would bring that woman over and take from her what I longed to give. It had me jumping and straining my hearing at every noise. Then fear slowly became self loathing. Did I do something wrong? Did I talk too much during the deed? Those thoughts made me relive everything over and over in my head, which made me want him more. We were perfect . He whispered as much into the shell of my ear. And as we pored over his files, I would occasionally steal a glance at him, only to see his eyes were already on me, piercing and intense.
I roll onto my back, a headache blooming behind my eyes with all the tension in my body. Today is the day. Anxiety replaces panic. Today, I’ll ‘officially’ make a play for the head of the Dolmino family. Telling the society was one thing, actually doing it and making the move is an entirely different thing. A thing I didn’t even think would need to happen. They wanted my brother, yet I guess the stakes weren’t high enough for Riccardo to put his head on the line. So now it’s my head on the line, I guess.
The clock says it’s late morning and I know the gym will be empty now. I need to run, not as far as I usually do, but enough to take this edge off and settle my nerves. The closet is unorganized, everything yet to be put away, but I find my running clothes. Everything is the perfect fit, which still baffles me, and I pause in tying my shoelaces as a new thought strikes me—would he ask me to leave everything when I am done here? I have no attachments to anything in this small space, because none of it truly is mine. For a slight moment, I mourn my jeans, sweatshirt, and boots that he took from me, which have long since been destroyed. With a sigh, I continue to lace my shoes and leave my room.
Passing Alessandrio’s room, I hold my breath, trying to listen but also trying not to listen. If I heard a woman, what would I do? Probably nothing. Maybe cry? Ugh. Only the indistinct sound of that heavy metal music he likes to listen to reaches out into the hall. That doesn’t mean shit, says that insidious voice in my head and I force my feet to move faster. Running is my medicine, the salve to my disturbed soul. Today it feels powerfully soothing as I set my stride and let myself imagine I’m running through open land. And still my mind slides back to him. Alessandrio would be an excellent runner as he is. I have nothing to compare him to before, but his legs now have me in awe. Long and corded with muscle, powerful and built for the life of a predator—built for the chase.
I find a garment bag on my bedroom door when I return, taunting me with finality. Snatching it up, I slam my door closed like a petulant child before taking a long time in the shower. In the garment bag, I find an outfit surprisingly modest by comparison to all the others that have been delivered. It really hits home then, the outfit making everything seem like a harsh reality. Alessandrio spent days preparing me to take my father’s seat. A father I never knew. Would he be rolling over in his grave knowing what has become of the Dolmino family?
With knots in my stomach, I go through the motions, applying a lighter makeup look and running a flat iron over my waves till my hair is a sleek mass reaching to my waist. With the black fitted dress pants, the white-collared silk dress shirt and the pointed Louboutin heels, I stand before the mirror, turning every which way to assess my image.
“Damn.”
I look sophisticated—like a lady. That eases some of the intense anxiety. My looks will be my armour today, the distraction I need for no one to prod too deep. Taking some deep breaths, I will myself to calm down, knowing which way this will go if I can’t get it all under control. With all this pressure, I’m on a one-way ride to a panic attack. Just breathe.
It’s not only the thought of these meetings that has me in a state of panic. There is an added anticipation of seeing Alessandrio. I had him for two days, and for two days he turned me inside out. The idea that was all there is makes me feel things I can’t even describe to myself. He has tormented me, teased me and shattered everything I thought I wanted with a wicked twist of a smile on his terribly handsome face. Am I crazy? I allow myself to contemplate that thought. He’s a monster. And yet from the moment he took me, even beneath the fear, I felt like I was falling beneath another kind of curse. He’s a man, a wicked man, and maybe my desire for him makes me wicked too. Maybe it’s all a part of the curse, that magnetic attraction to the Greco brothers. The way Lucia looks at her husband, hell, the way other women look at them.
With a frustrated sound, I force myself to leave the room. Movement is better than marinating in my own fears and desires. Better to face it head on, so I force my feet and let the clack of my heels on the tiles be the beat of my war drums. The living room is empty, and conflicting emotions become my companions—disappointment and relief. I drop my coat on a stool at the counter and make my way toward the glass wall. The room looks large and bright, thanks to the beautiful blue sky outside. The sun reflects off the sea of glass windows beyond and I have to let my eyes readjust for a moment. Picking up the binoculars, I raise them and begin a distracting scan of the world outside. It feels wrong yet somehow comforting watching the magnified people on the rooftop bar eat their late lunches and socialize without a care in the world.
There’s a man and woman at a table near the railing, and I hone in on their faces. A coy smile is playing across the woman’s. Maybe it’s a first date? I am unprepared for the soft tug of jealousy as the handsome man with his perfect blond hair reaches across the table to caress the woman’s hand. That seems like an impossible reality for me at this point.
“It’s a different girl each week.” I gasp in fright and the binoculars clack against the glass as I rip them away from my eyes.
Alessandrio is leaning against the glass, his blue eyes stark against the backdrop of fur. I let my eyes feast on him, the way he seems to be leisurely doing to me, my skin prickling with every inch they cover. I have a weakness. The sight of his white dress shirt, with its sleeves rolled up around his powerful forearms, the outline of tattoos stark against the caramel fur. Swallowing is difficult as I trace the buttons down to his narrow waist, past the black belt to his powerful legs, covered by charcoal pants. Heat blooms in my core. He is truly something else entirely and I swallow hard, lifting my eyes back up.
“How do you know?” I ask weakly as our gazes finally collide.
Averting my eyes, I raise the binoculars and begin my search again. I want him to keep staring, to lap up my presence and maybe, just maybe, give me something. Some small glimmer of weakness that will show me that those two days weren’t all there is. That, like me, he is feeling just as vulnerable after fucking me senseless.
“I’ve had a lot of time alone to observe the only public place I have seen in over a year,” he says quietly, his voice rough and delicious.
Unable to take the stretching silence, I give into my pent up frustration, needing answers for my fears.
“Did I do something wrong?” I keep the binoculars raised, hiding behind them as I watch the couple.
“You were perfect.” My breath catches at his admission.
“Then why have you stayed away?”
“Do you have no self preservation?” I look at him then. His face is harsh, brows and eyes narrowed.
“Apparently no, not since I met you,” I snap back, glaring.
He smiles, one of those twisting wicked smiles that has my pulse racing and my hands itching to touch him.
“Trust me, princess, it has been a new kind of torture keeping my distance these past few days. Even the thought of fucking my hand was deplorable after your sweet honeyed pussy.” He makes no moves to reach out, no steps forward to close the distance, and I can’t help the breathy sound that escapes past my lips. “But what we are about to do requires us both to be clear headed. Distance was a necessary evil, and you will thank me for it later.”
The sound of the elevator pulls me from the puddle I just became on the floor. I turn my head, aware of the presence behind me, and watch Emilio and Lorenzo step out of the elevator. They are both similarly dressed in shirts and pants, the latter wearing a heavy coat. I feel like we have been caught red-handed as both men pause in their strides upon seeing us by the window.
“Ready?” Emilio enquires, his eyes on me.
I nod and feel the heavy presence over my shoulder move away, wishing he would stay close to me. Emilio nods his own head and continues into the space, Lorenzo with a soft smile is on his heels. I turn to watch them. Alessandrio is lifting something around his broad shoulder, adjusting buckles as Emilio opens a black case on the counter. There is a glint as Emilio raises an object from the case, and as he holds it up, my gut twists. Guns.
“Why do you need those?” My voice is quiet with confusion, tendrils of fear curling up my spine.
Both brothers turn to look at me, but the monster that makes my heart stall takes the gun from his brother’s hand and slides it into the holsters beneath his arm.
“Protection,” Alessandrio replies sharply as Emilio hands him a matching gun.
It’s like being hit with a truck, the realization. These past few days have felt twisted with emotions and confusion. I have been so worried about why he was absent that I had no time to truly pull apart this reality. Taking the Dolmino seat felt like a distant horizon. Sure, it filled me with nerves, but it all paled against Alessandrio and our moments together. He was right. Distance proved to be a necessary evil—if we had kept indulging in physical pursuits, I would have been thoroughly distracted, lulled by a false sense of his security. Now watching him strap on protection really drives home that I should be on guard.
“Do I need a gun?” I can’t hide the note of panic, fear spreading from my spine, curling around my ribs to compress my chest.
Emilio murmurs low to Alessandrio, but I can’t hear beneath the roaring in my head. Panic settling like icy fingers across my brow. Alessandrio moves across the room toward me, his steps sure, his face set in a mask void of emotion. He pauses before me, his enormous frame shielding me from the view of the other two men.
“I am your weapon,” He murmurs lowly, for only my ears to hear.
I am lost in his eyes, their mesmerizing blue sweeping me up and coating me in warmth. A warm velvet finger slides across my jaw, leaving a trail of heat in its path. I lean into his touch, letting it soothe and comfort.
“When we are done, I will show you just how good you look right now.” His promise settles on my skin, and the panic recedes.
There will be a tomorrow. I will survive this, I will live through this, I will find out just how good he thinks I look. There will be a tomorrow.
“Okay,” I breathe.