12. Carmen
Chapter 12
Carmen
“Y ou said…”
“I know what I said.”
And I’d meant it.
Then, it had felt too personal, too dangerous to indulge in. That one kiss we’d shared between the bars of my cell had already been too much. My first and only kiss had been with a man who was my captor. I didn’t want it to count for anything.
But now…
Confronted with the reality of my situation, being forced to compare this ridiculously handsome man before me and the man I was about to be betrothed to…
I can’t bear it.
I can’t bear the thought that Hernando Lacruz will get to have this from me. That my first true kiss might not be gentle or kind or focused on my pleasure.
And I have, technically, kissed Dante before. I know how his lips feel. I know that even though it might not mean anything beyond the satisfaction of our closeness, it will be gentle and kind.
It will come with the promise of more walks through these sunny grounds and a south-facing bedroom window.
For the first time in my life, I think I might deserve at least that. For the sacrifice I’ll have to make…now that I understand the true extent of that sacrifice.
“I need it to be you,” I whisper with a vulnerability that’s ripped straight out of my chest. “I need it to be gentle and not through the bars of a cage. I need?—”
His lips have already found mine. And I melt.
Because those are his hands unwinding from my waist to cradle my face. That’s his thumb brushing across my cheek, that’s his racing heart pressed against my chest.
It’s wonderful and sundrenched and warm. I sigh into it, letting my mouth open, letting myself swallow his affection. Feel every jolt of electricity as his tongue licks across my bottom lip.
My hands wind themselves around his neck, pulling him closer, raising myself onto my toes.
So quickly does this gentle thing become insatiable. The feeling of his tongue brushing against mine sends us both into a sort of frenzy. Fingers dig into flesh as we both scramble to get closer, to feel more.
His hand hooks under my thigh and brings my leg to his waist. Which is good. Very very good. Closer. I groan out my pleasure.
I’m rewarded by being lifted from my toes. My legs instinctively wrap around his waist as a muffled shriek escapes me, captured by his mouth as his tongue wrestles for control over mine.
The movement pushes me against him, and with a thrumming sense of achievement, I can feel the hardening of his cock pressing into my stomach.
Frenzied, I rock into it, enjoying the way something akin to a growl erupts from his throat.
He moves us to the bench, taking a seat as I fall to straddle him. The hardness of his crotch now presses perfectly into my own throbbing core.
My strangled cry is quickly muffled by a hand across my mouth.
We both freeze, suddenly feeling caught as we suddenly hear footsteps getting closer. Our eyes are both wide with panic for a moment until they fade again across the gravel path nearby.
Slowly, Dante lowers his hand.
Relief hits first. Then, the insanity of the situation.
Then, a wild burst of laughter erupts from my chest, and I have to muffle it again with my own hands.
Only Dante is laughing with me, a warm, comforting sound that I can feel rumble through his entire body. It takes a long moment for us to both settle down again.
But when we do, he pulls my hands down and offers me a chaste kiss. I chase his lips for a second. Then we meet halfway for a third.
It’s a lovely, fluttering thing. Experimental on my part, indulgent on his. Less feverish and intense than before, but I would be content with doing it for hours without it going any further than just this.
Just being. Just close. Just kissing.
My heart aches for this to be what it’s like once I’m married. The thought is enough for me to pull back with a sigh.
“I don’t think I can kiss him like this.”
The disgust on his face gives Dante away. For all his teasing about being his prisoner, there are times like this when the looks he gives me feel downright possessive.
“You won’t kiss him.”
“Dante.”
“I’ll make sure of it.”
“It’s beyond your control,” I rest my forehead heavily against his. “You let me have this. It’s enough.”
“Is it?”
I pull away and his hands trail down my arms, not quite clinging but unwilling to let me go. It’s hard to put the distance between us, but I do so anyway.
“I don’t know how much time I have here, but?—”
“Months.”
The answer comes out of his mouth so quickly I’m temporarily blindsided. “ Months? ”
“Leon is biding his time. I got the call yesterday, for obvious reasons, I can’t tell you much more.”
Something breaks inside me. A suspicion long held suddenly confirmed, plain as day. I laugh bitterly. “It’s not Leon.”
Dante looks like he’s about to pry but thinks better of it.
He sighs, leaning back on the bench. “That’s why I thought you might appreciate your new room. You also have my permission to come out here or explore the castle if you’d like. May as well if we’re going to be here a while.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “On my own?”
“You’re never really alone in this place.” He looks over his shoulder, through the canopy of vines, toward the sound of a nearby gardener shifting around. “And it’s not like you can go anywhere else.”
“You trust me not to run?”
“I trust that you’re not that stupid,” he counters easily.
I walk forward to capture his lips once more. “I’m not so sure about that.”
Dante freezes this time, and I can see by the way his knuckles grip the side of the bench that I’m not going to like whatever he’s about to say next.
“I think, perhaps, we should stop.”
And yep, that stings a bit. “Right.”
I try to shuffle back, but he snatches at my wrist. “It’s not you.”
“It’s okay. I asked for too much.”
“Carmen,” he tugs at my arm, forcing me to look into his eyes. The fire that burns behind them takes my breath away. “If you kiss me again, I won’t be able to stop.”
“Oh.”
Fuck.
“I’m going to give you some space for a while,” Dante continues, jaw clenching and unclenching. “This won’t end well otherwise, and I need to just…sort out a few things.”
I swallow down the disappointment and force myself to smile back at him. “Well, if you’re going to be all gentlemanly about this, you can at least escort me back to my room.”
The tension eases from his shoulders as he sees my offered arm. “You’re only asking because you can’t remember the way back.”
“Dickhead.”
* * *
True to his word, I don’t see Dante for the rest of the week, which is, honestly, fine. Truly an absolutely fine thing for him to do.
Because I understood what he meant. I knew already that kissing would only lead to more trouble down the line. Logically, there’s nothing that can happen between us. At least nothing more than what has already happened.
To take it any further would be ruinous for both of us, even more so than the crippling self-pity and smidgen of loathing I’m currently feeling for myself. My rational brain knows it wasn’t a rejection, but it still stings like one.
At least I know what it’s supposed to feel like now. At least I got to choose that much for myself.
And at least I got out of that damn cell.
Perhaps the nicest thing to come out of all this is that I got what I wanted. Even though my freedom comes with a castle wall wrapped around it, seducing (if I can even call it that) Dante had worked at least that much.
A new routine begins to form. One where I have breakfast in bed, then spend my morning exploring all the many rooms in the castle before heading outside in the afternoon.
No one usually bothers me, though there are plenty around to throw me curious looks.
I make sure to throw Pierre a wink every time I pass by. He usually just flushes and scuttles away, much to my endless amusement.
A week or so passes before anyone is bold enough to strike up a conversation, and it happens in perhaps the most bizarre way it could.
“ Senorita? ”
I twirl around from the counter where I was stirring sugar into my espresso to find none other than Evelina Grasso staring back at me. Her outfit is just as immaculate as it was the day I arrived, her stance proud and assertive.
I feel the oddest impulse to drop into a curtsey.
“ Signora Grasso,” I manage without curtseying.
Her dark eyes scan me with a terrifying appraisal. “My son tells me you will be staying with us for a while.”
“I promise I won’t be any trouble.” I suppress the urge to pour my espresso down the sink and clean up after myself. “I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
Evelina tilts her head curiously. “What an odd thing to say. Are you not a prisoner? Surely it is I that is inconveniencing you.”
I glance around at the beautiful sun room with a heavy sigh. “Well, it’s the prettiest cage I’ve ever been held in, if it’s any consolation.”
The Grasso di Ferro matriarch steps around me to grab herself her own cup.
“Come. I will join you for coffee.”
“Right, yes.” Bewildered, I follow her to a set of comfortable armchairs in the corner.
She sits somewhat magnanimously as she gestures for me to do the same. “I admit, my son has told me very little of you. You are from Brooklyn?”
“Can?un, originally. But I grew up in Brooklyn, yes. However, I was in New Jersey for a couple of years for college. Princeton. I majored in bioengineering.” I’m rambling, I know I am. But there’s something about this woman that puts me right on edge.
“This is fascinating for me.” She sits back in the chair. “Will you tell me why an intelligent woman such as yourself gets to be involved with the mafia?”
I wince slightly at that. “You might say it’s a…er…family business.”
“A cartel, no?”
“ The Cartel,” I correct automatically before realizing I probably shouldn’t be talking to her about this.
It’s too late now, Evelina’s eyes flash with recognition. “Of Can?un. I see. That would make you…Amos Rubio’s principessa. ”
An ache begins to blossom at the sound of my father’s name, forcing me to look away. The war is important to my father, vital, even. If he can afford to keep me here for months without rescue, then…
“Have you lived here your whole life?” I reply instead.
Evelina watches me a moment as if debating whether or not to press the point about my heritage. Luckily, she seems to sense my hesitation enough to drop it.
“I married into the Grassos,” she says, a small, reminiscent smile on her lips. “Although, it was always destined for me to be here. I cannot recall a time I did not live here behind these walls.”
This piques my interest. “Was your marriage arranged too?”
“In a sense” Evelina appraises me again. “My love, he declared we would marry when we were just children. No one else would dare look at me after that.”
The tenderness in her voice makes me smile, too. “That must have been nice to know he loved you for so long.”
“I have loved him every day since. There will be no other, and I will be buried next to him when my time comes. It will be quite pleasant, I think, to return to his side once more.”
I swallow. “He sounds like a wonderful man.”
“I was very lucky, for the time that we had was so precious,” she agrees. “I wish only now that my son might encounter this as well.”
The espresso cup burns my hand slightly as I grip it. “I thought Dante would be the type to marry for connections.”
“It would be wise, yes,” she concedes. “But not the most important, I think. The Grasso di Ferro has survived a long, long time. But it is not as important as my son. He has been lost to me for so many years. I only wish now for his happiness.”
“Is he not happy?” I find myself asking.
“I think not. Though I suspect you might know this better than I.”
I shake away the flush that threatens my cheeks. “We’re both just a little homesick.”
“Yes, well,” Evelina swallows the rest of her coffee. “I do hope you are not too inconvenienced by your prolonged stay, principessa. ”
With that, she makes her leave as if conversing with her son’s enemy was the most normal thing in the world.
“ Signora Grasso?”
“Yes?”
I bite my lip slightly. “I’m sorry I called you a…for cursing you out when I arrived.”
A slow smile spreads across the matriarch’s face.
“Call me Evelina.”