Extended Epilogue #2
I cup her face, my thumb brushing her cheekbone. "You understand that I'm not looking for a wife. I don't do fairy tales or happy endings."
"Who said anything about marriage?" Her eyes flash with challenge. "Perhaps I just want to know if the great Marco Calabresi lives up to his reputation."
"Careful, Gabriella. You might get more than you bargained for."
She leans forward, her lips brushing my ear. "Or you might." Her teeth graze my earlobe, sending heat coursing through me. “Live a little, Don Calabresi.”
Her words ignite something primal in me. I back her against the mahogany desk. “Is that what you do, live a little?”
“Oh, no. I live a lot. Usually, it’s hot air ballooning in New Mexico or skiing in the Alps or looking for faeries in Scotland.”
“So you don’t fuck random men for adventure.” I lift her onto the polished surface, my hands sliding up her thighs as her dress rides higher.
Books and papers scatter to the floor.
I should care.
These are rare first editions, but all I can focus on is the way Gabriella's breath catches when my fingers graze the lace edge of her underwear.
“No. Although you’ll be disappointed if you’re expecting a virgin. Truth be told, I’ve never tried to seduce a man before.”
“I don’t imagine you have to.” My dick is fucking hard. I may end up embarrassing myself and coming in my pants. I suck on her lower lip. “Why do I have the honor?”
“You intrigue me. You have for years.” Her fingers work to undo my belt. "Wondered what it would take to crack that famous control of yours."
I silence her with a bruising kiss. My hand tangles in her hair, tugging just enough to expose her throat. I trail hot kisses down her neck while she arches against me.
"Quiet," I command when she moans too loudly. "Unless you want everyone to hear what I'm doing to Antonio Monti's daughter."
The danger of discovery only seems to excite her more. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer as her hands push my jacket from my shoulders.
Outside this room, a holiday party is in full force, but my entire world has narrowed to this room, this woman, this moment of madness.
I unzip her dress and eagerly suck her tits like I’m a man starving and she’s my first meal.
It’s fucking annoying how this woman has undone me.
My fingers find her pussy and she’s wet. I groan as I anticipate my dick deep inside her. I finger her, loving how her body rocks to my ministrations. I pull my finger out and bring it to my mouth, sucking up her essence.
“So fucking good.” I grab a condom because unlike Roman, I don’t want to have kids. So I carry condoms with me at all times. I rip it open and roll it on.
Then I tear away the delicate barrier of lace between us. “Tell me you want this,” I demand.
Her eyes flash with heat and challenge. “Are you hesitating, Don Calabresi?”
I plunge into her, hard. She gasps, the sound muffled against my shoulder. The desk creaks beneath us as I drive into her, all pretense of restraint abandoned. I’ve lost all control. All there is is white-hot need as I thrust in again and again and again.
Gabriella matches my intensity, meeting each thrust with equal force.
Her head falls back, exposing the elegant line of her throat, her lips parted in silent ecstasy.
"Look at me," I command, needing to see her eyes when she comes undone.
She does, her gaze locking with mine as pleasure overtakes her.
The sight of her, powerful, beautiful, completely surrendered, pushes me over the edge after her.
When it’s done, I tell myself this is the one and only time.
Two months later, I’m still telling myself this time I fuck her will be the last time. Yet I keep going back for more like an addict needing another hit.
Gabriella sleeps in my bed, her dark hair spilled across my pillows. The early light catches on her bare shoulder, and I resist the urge to trace the curve of it with my fingers.
Two months since that first night in my library, and I've failed to end this dangerous indulgence.
"You're staring again," she murmurs without opening her eyes, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
"Planning my escape," I lie, though we both know better.
She stretches languidly, the sheet slipping lower. "Liar. You could have left an hour ago."
She's right. I've been awake since dawn, watching her breathe, memorizing the contours of her face as if I won't see it again. But I will. Despite every rational argument, despite the complications this affair creates, I'll seek her out again tonight.
"Your father called yesterday," I tell her, changing the subject. "Wants to discuss territorial adjustments."
Gabriella rolls onto her side, propping herself on one elbow. "And will you mention that you've been adjusting his daughter's territory quite thoroughly?"
I scowl at her crude joke, but she only laughs, fearless as always. That's what draws me to her, her absolute refusal to be intimidated by who and what I am.
But I need to stay focused. I don’t know that she’s realized it, but her father is starting to slip and that could cause all sorts of problems for Antonio and his family, especially since his son Luca shows no signs of wanting to return to New York from Italy.
I’m already planning to talk to Roman about how we can protect Antonio’s territory or perhaps absorb it if Luca doesn’t return.
"This isn't sustainable," I say, not for the first time.
She rises from the bed, gloriously naked, and crosses to where I stand by the window. "Nothing worth having ever is, Marco."
When she wraps her arms around me from behind, pressing her warmth against my back, I feel something inside me crack.
This bright, bold, effervescent woman has wormed her way past my defenses.
But I can’t allow that.
I need to stop this insanity.
If her father found out about us, I’d be forced to marry her or risk having La Corona inflict a punishment that could include death.
"You're thinking too much again," she whispers against my shoulder blade.
I turn in her arms, cupping her face between my hands. "This was supposed to be simple. Physical."
Her smile is knowing, triumphant. "But it's not, is it?"
It's not. What started as lust has become something I won’t name.
Something that makes me seek her company even when sex isn't the objective.
Something that has me listening to her opinions on business matters, valuing her perspective, craving her laughter.
"You terrify me.”
Gabriella's eyes widen slightly, then soften. "Good," she says simply, rising on her toes to kiss me. "It's about time something did."
Two weeks after that, I’m nearly resolved that I’m going to lose this battle. That the feeling in my chest could be love.
Gabriella storms into my office. “I hope you go to hell, Marco Calabresi.” It’s not the first time she’s yelled at me, but it’s the first time that her eyes have flashed with hatred.
"I'm done with this. With you." She gestures between us, her movements jerky, uncharacteristic of her usual grace. "Whatever this is, it's over."
I lean back against my desk, arms crossed, face carefully neutral despite the unexpected blow. "May I ask what prompted this sudden change of heart?"
“You are a terrible person.”
Something that feels like pain squeezes my heart, but I’m nothing if not cool and aloof. I hide how her words impact me.
"I see." I don't, actually. Just yesterday, she was in my arms, whispering things that made even me blush.
"You know what you did. You just used me to—”
"When I first fucked you, I told you there was no future for us."
"Yes, you did. But I thought you fucked me because you wanted me, not because you planned to use me."
A part of me wants to demand answers, to grab her arm and force her to explain. The other part, the colder, more rational side, tells me this is for the best.
"If that's what you want," I say finally, my voice steady.
“I was so wrong about you. It’s not that you don’t want people to know you. It’s that you don’t want people to realize you have no soul.”
It’s fucking annoying how much those words hurt. “I never made any promises.”
She laughs bitterly. “They wouldn’t mean anything if you did.” Then she's gone, the door closing behind her with a slam.
I pour myself a drink, welcoming the burn of whiskey down my throat.
This is good, I tell myself.
Cleaner this way.
I was never cut out for whatever she was starting to expect from me.
I'm Don Marco Calabresi. I don't do relationships or commitments. I don't do vulnerability.
What we had was temporary insanity, nothing more. A momentary weakness that needed to end before it complicated everything.
I repeat these thoughts like a mantra as I stare out the window, watching Gabriella's car disappear down my driveway. This is for the best. For both of us.
So why does it feel like I've lost something irreplaceable?
And what the fuck did I do to make her leave?
To be continued.