Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Damian
In the darkness of my guest room at the Fiorelli estate, I can’t get the vision of Alessio’s face out of my mind. The way his long hair had moved in the breeze.
Ten-forty-six at night, and all I can think of is the cold-induced blush on his nose and cheeks. Freckled even.
The way he had spoken to me in the car was more vulnerable than I had expected anyone here to speak to me. Even with the vagueness of it.
I roll over onto my side. I roll onto my back. I roll onto my other side.
I’m restless.
I’m too warm.
I toss the covers off.
Heat travels down my stomach into my groin.
I’m hard.
I’m hard and Alessio’s face is the one in my mind. Not just his face. His tall body. His smooth voice. The look in his eyes.
I know a man questioning his decisions when I see one.
It’s none of my business. There’s no reason for me to care. Not only that, I shouldn’t even be entertaining the thoughts that I have.
The thought of his pink skin under my large hands. The sound of his voice whispering my name.
Guilt floods over me. Through me. Deep into my bone.
Eleven-thirty-one. I’m still awake. I’m still rock hard.
All this over a man. As though I’m just some horny degenerate and not working for two of the most powerful families in Italy.
I swallow hard and roll onto my stomach. I sandwich my dick between the bed and my body. I can feel it throbbing. Blood pulsing.
Is this just lust? Is that really all it is? I barely know the man. So, it has to be.
Even if my heart squeezes when I think about the sadness in his voice.
I shut my eyes tighter.
It’s midnight. My length is still aching between myself and the bed. I can’t take it.
I find myself rocking my hips against the bed. Over and over again.
Up. Down. Up. Down. Forward. Backward.
Desperate for friction. For release.
I grunt into the pillow next to my head and grip the edge of the bed with my left hand. I go at it for ten, fifteen minutes. Breathing heavy and making the air in the room moist. The bed creaks ever so slightly under my shifting weight as I grind my cock against the bed.
I try to think of something else, someone else; but as I come into my boxer shorts in several hot spurts, it’s Alessio that is in my mind’s eye.
Clear crystal vases are set onto every round table in the room. The expensive nature of them escapes me. I have no interest in what type of flowers Rosalie has chosen for the event. Nor do I particularly care about the rest of the decorations. The blue and purple draping. The twinkling lights.
I do, however, pay attention to each and every possible entrance and exit in the building. Including the ones that might otherwise be forgotten.
The large window in the hallway leading from the dining hall to the bathroom. It has no way of opening or closing but could easily be smashed.
The sky light above the bride and groom’s table.
The double back doors that are currently unguarded.
“Will there be guards at all the doors on the night of?” I ask Eivor.
He’s distracted talking to the caterer about the alcohol situation, wanting to make sure Nikolas and Beau aren’t able to sneak any alcohol. It’s rather amusing that is something he cares about in a situation like this.
He looks over to me with a look of uncertainty. “What? Oh…yes. Of course.”
“Why isn’t there tonight?” I ask, eying the doors suspiciously.
“It’s only the rehearsal. Not many will show,” he insists.
My fingers twitch. “After the event with the bomb, I think it would be good to be on high alert,” I say.
He sighs. “Yes, yes. I agree. That’s why there’s a few more guards here tonight. I don’t want the place looking as though it’s locked down. I’m sure with your help, things will be just fine. Don’t you?” He smiles at me. I see a hard look in his eye.
“If you’re certain, Mr. Fiorelli,” I tell him, switching up my tone. It’s clear that he’s not interested in hearing any criticism.
“That I am,” he says. “Nothing else has happened since that little…warning. You’ve kept an eye on my dear niece, and Carmine has found nothing to be worried about so far with the Carvels. You will be notified if there’s anything to worry about.”
I narrow my eyes. I feel uneasy. “Yes, Mr. Fiorelli.”
Despite his words, I will not be letting my guard down. Not even a little bit.
I turn to find Rosalie. She’s walking around and instructing people on where the decorations are meant to go. She’s wearing some kind of corseted dress that seems to be making it difficult for her to breath as her face is flushed and she keeps sucking in a deep breath with her hand on her stomach.
I look at my watch.
Seven-oh-two.
I was told the entire rehearsal dinner would only last a couple hours, but judging by the fact that that it’s already been an hour, I’d say I’m going to be here a while.
I move to a corner of the room where I can see all of the exits and entrances, windows and otherwise, better. I watch the guests trickle in. Ony a dozen of them. Not even half of who will be at the actual reception.
I know each of them by name because I’ve looked them up. To ensure that I’m familiar with each name and face. No one who isn’t supposed to be here, will be here.
I see Rosalie greet the new guests with handshakes and kisses on the cheek.
She walks like she’s floating on a cloud.
Being the perfect hostess. Leading guests to their tables.
Making sure they have their menus of what’s to be served tonight.
She smiles, laughs, and makes small talk…
but her smile falters at the corners. Her eyes are tired.
The way she moves is ever so slightly stiff.
She grows even more stiff and her smile grows larger, and faker, when Eivor and Patricia make their rounds to talk to her.
Fear and anxiety. Just like in the bathroom at the engagement gala.
It seems Alessio isn’t the only one struggling with their marriage.
Where is he?
Several long glances around the room and I am unable to find him. His long hair and tall stature are no one where to be seen. Not a single purple dress shirt in sight.
Carmine, however, is talking to Soren and Nikolas near the small stage where a band is setting up. I head over to them in several large strides.
“Mr. Dresvanni,” I say, adding quickly, “I apologize for interrupting.”
“Whatever it is, it must be important,” Carmine says and turns to look at me. “What is it?”
“I’m unable to find your brother. The groom,” I tell him. I keep my voice calm, but I see the anxiety in my eyes mirrored by his.
Unexpectedly, Carmine chuckles and puts a hand on my shoulder. “There’s no need to be worried. If there’s anywhere my brother might be, it’s outside smoking. Why don’t you check the back patio?” he suggests. His eyes crinkle with amusement.
“I don’t find this entertaining. There’s a serious threat on our backs,” I remind him. “One that could have killed Nikolas if you don’t remember.” I motion toward the teenager.
His face falls. “I’m well aware of this,” he tells me. “I also know my brother. If he was in trouble, I’d be the first to send the calvary after him.”
Nikolas looks uncomfortable, like he doesn’t want to be there, and doesn’t say a word.
Soren steps closer to Carmine and places a hand on his back. “Go check the patio. If he’s not there, then we’ll act in a bit more of a hurry, hm?”
I nod stiffly and turn to head to the back of the dining hall. The force with which I push the door open causes it, and the wall it’s connected to, to rattle. I look out into the wintery air and see a cloud of smoke rising just to my left. I step out, not caring that it’s cold.
The door slowly closes behind me as I turn and see Alessio standing to the side against the brick of the building. Smoking.
“There you are,” I say lowly. He looks over at me with an unamused expression.
“Is someone missing me?” he asks quietly.
I stop beside him and look up at him with my brow slightly furrowed. “I couldn’t find you.”
He raises a brow. “I needed a smoke. It’s not like I was kidnapped.”
I scoff. “With the recent threat, I think anything is possible,” I remind him.
Alessio blinks and looks out in front of him toward the road about a half mile ahead of the snowy landscape. Tall pine trees line the sides, and it would be easy to lose someone down the backroads of this area.
“As you can see, I’m fine,” he says and takes another drag before tossing the cigarette to the ground and smashing it with the heel of his wingtip shoe.
He smells not only like smoke, but there’s something different about him. In his eyes. His pupils are dilated. His words are slower.
He doesn’t smell like alcohol, so I know it’s not that.
I step closer to him and grab him by the face. “What did you take?” I ask him abruptly.
Alessio tries to pull his face away from me, but he struggles. “W-what? Nothing.” He growls and shoves at my chest, but he seems weaker than he might be otherwise.
“I’m serious, Alessio. What did you take?” I stare up into his face with narrowed eyes. He doesn’t look too high, but you can never be sure.
“Just enough to dull the edges,” he insists. “Don’t worry about me.”
“You’re popping pills when there’s people threatening to kill your fiancé. I’m worried.” I let go of his face and he rubs at his jaw.
“Don’t ever touch me like that again,” he glares at me. Then a smirk pulls at his face. “Unless you plan on finishing it.” He eyes me from head to toe.
The back of my neck heats up, and I try to ignore it.
“Don’t take drugs unless you want me to question you,” I retort. “You can do whatever you want when you’re at home, but in public? What if something were to happen right now and you needed to defend yourself? You really think you’re in fightin’ shape?” I ask him.
Alessio’s jaw clenches and he looks away from me. “I can handle myself.”
“Oh, I’m sure. When you’re sober. I don’t trust you right now.” I watch his twitchy hands and the way he shifts side to side.