Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
DARIA
S unlight streamed into the room and warmed my face. I squeezed my eyes shut, stretched, and moaned like a Cheshire cat. I hated mornings, and sleeping in was a major benefit of having a rich family. It was wonderful to have, but I would have traded it for a normal family on any given day. When I decided I was ready to join the world, I let my eyes slide lazily open.
There was a dark hollow in the corner. It had draped itself in a chair, oozed arrogance, swam in nicotine, and sung sex appeal. I froze mid-moan, mid-stretch. His gaze touched my pinky toes, prickled up my bare legs, breathed on my naked midriff, trailed over my breasts, and slowly and achingly climbed up my heated throat to my lips, to finally rest on my eyes. Heat rushed up my skin. My heart galloped like a runaway pony, and I regretted shedding the duvet sometime during the night.
The digital clock ticked in my peripheral view. One tick, two, three. Fascination overtook me as I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he slowly swallowed. The realization of being alone with a man settled in like a heavy blanket. Four, five… His eyes were usually hazel, but somehow they weren’t now. They were almost pitch black and pulled me in with a twist and a tug. Six, seven, eight… his tongue slipped out, and he licked his lips and pulled his bottom lip in. For some reason, I felt it even through the distance separating us. It touched my skin like warm honey. Nine… a ping of an incoming message fell on the room as loud as the boom of a bomb. The haze evaporated. He sat up straight and shook his head slightly.
“Get dressed.” His voice was gruff, as if he hadn’t used it for some time. “I want you to meet the new maid.”
The heat snuck out of my body as fast as it had filtered in. My entire being went ramrod straight as dread settled in between my rib cage. I remembered little from yesterday. Except another woman in the kitchen. My eyes thinned in suspicion.
“Is it a man?”
“No, Principessa .”
Since when did he call me Principessa ? Didn’t like it one bit. I itched to tell him off but stored it away for another time. I had bigger problems.
“I don’t want to meet her.”
Not today. It was too soon. Agitation bubbled in my body like hot oil in a fryer.
I pulled the duvet, wrapped myself up to my chin, and curled up into a ball. Any energy I had drained out of me like the hit of a sudden flu. I didn’t feel like getting up anymore. He stood up and strode over to me. Unease curdled in my stomach. I shrank away when he towered over me. A second later, he hunched next to the bed, and his fingers gripped my chin.
“You’ll like her,” he whispered. “Trust me on this one, sì ?”
Was it his words, his eyes on my mouth, or his thumb sliding on my lips? I didn’t know, but something pulled, and I got tugged in. Somehow I was nodding, and he was pulling me out of the bed.
“Get dressed.” He pushed me gently towards the bathroom, and the spell he had me under made me do just that without a single hesitation in my bones.
Dread pulled at my heartstrings even as he pulled me along with him. The coldness of the white walls touched the edges of my heart and the loud clattering rushing from the kitchen did nothing to banish the fear crawling up my throat.
“Open your eyes, Principessa .”
We were standing still, and I had squeezed my eyes shut. The clattering had stopped, and a silence that was too loud greeted me. The hand around mine encouraged with a squeeze, and I popped one eye reluctantly open and then both.
We were in the kitchen, and standing in front of me was a woman with waves of silver riding in her hair. She was thinner and taller than Mamma, yet somehow she reminded me of her. Maybe it was the sweet glint in her eyes or the wide smile that touched her face.
“ Oh, che bello moglie hai, Enzo,” she gushed as she rushed over and wrapped me in her arms. “She’s way too pretty for you.” My eyes burned. Who would have thought it? But I actually welcomed being squashed into her bosom like I was a ten-year-old.
She pulled back and cupped my face in her hands. “ Molto bello! What are you doing with this ugly stronzo ?”
I wasn’t sure if it was her exaggeration of my beauty, Lorenzo being called an ugly asshole, or his frown that put a smile on my lips, but I left it there and followed her obediently to the kitchen, to the smell of fresh buns baking in the oven. Any and all doubts I might have had about her flew out the window the moment she set the brioches down with granita and whipped cream.
I dropped onto the stool, dipped a piece of brioche in the granita , and stuffed it into my mouth. I let my Mamma’s upbringing vanish from me as a moan slipped out of my throat. Just like that, I was a fourteen-year-old swinging my legs on Mamma’s rickety wooden stool on the black-and-white tiles of our home in Sicily.
“ Va bene? ” She chuckled.
“The best!” I mumbled between stuffing my mouth. “Might be even better than Mamma’s.”
I shredded another piece and soaked it with granita . The heat on my cheek made me turn to find Lorenzo watching me with a curve on his lips. This was the first time I’d seen him smile. Even his smile was dark and devilish, as if only evil thoughts were behind it. It took my breath away. That was the only reason the next stupid words spilled out of my mouth. “You want some?”
“Oh, he doesn’t like…” She gawked mid-sentence as he dipped his head, wrapped his mouth around my fingers, and took the brioches and half my fingers into his mouth. Rude. He didn’t need to suck my fingers too. Was it my imagination, or did he keep them imprisoned for too long? I didn’t understand the heat that sliced through them.
“What doesn’t he like?” I forced my voice through a throat gone dry.
“ Brioches .”
But he looked like he enjoyed his brioches . A lot. I frowned at his grin. If his smile threw me off…
“So you like Benedetta?” he asked.
I nodded.
“You want to keep her?”
It felt odd to talk of her while she bustled in the kitchen, but I nodded vigorously.
“ Perfetto.” Benedetta gave an exaggerated sigh. “Otherwise, you dragged me over from retirement for nothing.”
I shifted on my stool. Mamma told me never to inconvenience anyone. “You were retired?”
“ Sì. ” She put another brioche in front of me, and I started on it immediately. “But when Enzo comes knocking on your door in the night, you don’t say no. Sì , Enzo?”
I looked at him to catch his eyes on me again. I wasn’t sure what the look was on his face, but I wouldn’t say no to that either.
“I was his Mamma’s best friend, you know. We grew up together. In Palermo.”
His mamma was from Sicily?
“But it all changed when she—”
“ Basta .” The words were uttered so softly that I would have thought I imagined it. A flicker of emotion in his eyes and a tick in his jaw were all that gave him away.
“ Giusto, ” Benedetta huffed as she cleared my empty plate and glass away. “Can’t talk about anything here. Can we speak Sicilian, or is that also going to piss you off?”
Why would talking Sicilian piss him off?
He must have not heard her because he leaned over, brushed his thumb along my lip, and came up with whipped cream. A warm and giddy feeling slid along my spine when he licked it off his thumb. The memory of my fingers in his mouth was too fresh not to warm my cheeks.
“Done?” he asked roughly.
I nodded.
“Let’s go then.”
“Where?”
“My office. Time to talk.”
Why did that have an ominous taint to it?
My naked feet pitter-pattered on the cold marble floor behind his shiny black leather loafers. His white dress shirt and black pants hugged him like the seamstress draped it on his body first and ran a scissor along the edges.
The way he walked pulled at something down south. In control, powerful, yet lazy. Like a predator strolling to its prey.
He held the door open for me to enter, and I glanced over my shoulder, hoping to spot Benedetta following us. She hadn’t. Why would she? We were husband and wife. It was normal for us to be alone. I didn’t need a chaperone anymore. Yet distress followed me into the room and hung on me as dark and close as my shadow.
I moved past him and came to a stop a few feet away, shifting uncomfortably on my feet and tugging at my shorts. Immediately his eyes followed the movement and settled on my thighs.
Medda! We were just in his office, not the bedroom. But ever since my cuckoo break, and in all honesty, what else could I call it other than that, there was something changed about the man standing in front of me.
For one, he’d shrugged off that coat of annoyance he carried with him like dust off his shoulders. But way worse was how he looked at me. Like a man on a mission, and something told me that I was it. Unease thundered in my rib cage, louder than the thud of the soundproof door closing.
The fact that he had a soundproof door to his office didn’t bother me. Papà had had one in his office and Vitale had planned to replace the library door with one. But what he wanted to do with me behind said door was what got my heartbeat spiking like a fever in my chest.
He is just another made man. Like all the others around me.
My eyes jittered around his office. I must have been in a daze yesterday, because I couldn’t remember anything about it. When I caught the chrome metal storage unit lining the wall and steel visitor chairs on the other side of the desk, I realized it was as cold as the rest of his penthouse. The only surprise was his desk, which had an old and patterned leather covering as if it had been used for generations. It didn’t match the rest at all and stuck out like a vintage handbag among the glitzy designer brands. Neither did the burgundy-colored couch in the corner. Wrapped in velvet, it called out to me. Because it was warm and because it was away from a man standing too close to me.
My bare thighs below my shorts bristled the moment the velvet touched my skin. They’d used the velvet against the direction of the hairs. It scratched ever so tauntingly on my naked skin.
I thought he would sit in the director’s chair behind his desk. Show me through actions who had the upper hand. But he sank onto the middle of the couch, lay back, legs spread wide, and wrapped his arms around the back. Even though I cuddled in the far corner, his fingertips rested right behind the nape of my neck, a mere inch away. His hair was thick and lush. His lips were full and heavy. Unfamiliar thoughts sizzled through the blood in my veins. What would it feel like to run my hands through his tendrils or to leave a dent on his lips with my teeth… Instantly, all the air shifted around me.
For the thousandth time, I wished I was not brought up so protected that the first non-family male I came across had me all hot and bothered and ready to climb up a wall.
I inched my body as subtly as possible away from those thick fingers on velvet.
“Tell me why you’re not happy, Daria?”
I stiffened like a ramrod metal sheet had been stuck up my back. Of all the things to fall from his mouth, I hadn’t expected that.
I blinked. Why? You forced this. You came for my sister. I didn’t have a choice. I never wanted to marry a made man. I want to study. I want to work. I don’t want to stay at home waiting to welcome you, reeking of another woman’s perfume. I don’t want any of this. I want a different life. One of my choice.
But nothing floated out of my vocal cords.
“Why, Daria?”
Talking about issues never came easily to me. I hated this. I didn’t want to talk about this. It made me anxious. Pulled me out of my comfort zone. Hives crawled up my body and took residence. Escape whispered in my rib cage.
I flexed my thighs to get up, but those fingers of his wrapped around the nape of my neck and pulled me back. Even though he was gentle, the heat of his touch startled me.
An eyebrow cocked up. “You’re not running away, Principessa . Now talk.”
His palm burned the back of my neck like the heat of a fireplace. I shifted away, and his palm shifted with me. Frustration curdled my blood. Please move your hands off me.
“Please move your hands off me.”
I didn’t realize I’d actually uttered the words whirling in my mind. His lips thinned and something flickered in his eyes, but he let go of my neck slowly, as if he was reluctant to do so. I couldn’t stop the sigh of relief falling out of me.
“Talk, now.” His tone was gruff.
My voice grated as I forced the words out, “I didn’t want to marry you.”
A harsh laugh slipped out of him. “I didn’t want to get married either, Principessa. ”
Wait. What? Why?
“Why did you then?”
He shook his head. “I asked you.”
I laughed snidely. “Isn’t that how it always works? It’s a one-way road with all of you.”
He pushed his other hand through his hair. I wished he’d take the hand wrapped behind me on the couch instead. But it remained where it was. Thick, heavy, and warm, sending silent tingles to my nape.
His jaw tightened. “ Va bene , you tell me your reason, and I’ll tell you mine.”
I eyed him suspiciously. I didn’t believe him one bit. My gaze drifted to the closed door with a longing so deep in my heart that I wondered if it would fly open out of sheer will.
His gaze was dark. “I have all day, Daria. No one is going to come in and no one is going out. It’s just you and me, Principessa .”
I chewed on my bottom lip. Dammit. He wasn’t my psychologist. I wanted to be anywhere but with him.
“And stop chewing your damn lip,” he growled.
“Stop doing this. Stop doing that. I don’t want a marriage like this,” I yelled, the cork to my thoughts falling out.
He watched me, unperturbed. “What kind of marriage is it, then?”
“You know what kind it is.”
“Enlighten me,” he said tightly.
“I am a damn product to you. A stupid business arrangement.”
“You are my wife. You. Are. Not. A. Business. Arrangement.”
His posture hadn’t changed at all. Yet even though he looked like he was enjoying an espresso on a lazy Sunday, there was a shift in the air that told me otherwise. Like a tinge of a dark cloud creeping in on a sunny day when you were looking the other way.
I ignored it. Now that I had started, I couldn’t stop. “Yeah? Look at us. Seated in your office behind a soundproof door. Feels like business to me,” I snarled.
The hand behind the couch flew to the back of my neck, yanked, and I landed on his lap. “Let me go!”
“You need to decide what you want, Principessa . You don’t want it to feel like a business arrangement. Well then, this doesn’t feel like one now.” He leaned over and wrapped me in his scent. Cedar. That was it! And him. His scruff rubbed on my cheek as his words fell on my ear, smooth and confident. “Talk.”
Goosebumps rode my skin as I struggled to pull away. But there wasn’t any possibility with his arms branding my ass. I rocked back, clutched his palms on my ass, and tried to dislodge his hands.
“ Jesus, stop. What the fuck, Daria?” he gritted through his teeth, and I stilled instantly. Not because of his words or his tight tone but because of the sudden hardness poking underneath my core. Heat rushed to my cheeks when I realized what it was. He laughed harshly. “Exactly why I wanted to have this talk here and not in our bedroom.”
Medda! I didn’t like this plight I’d gotten myself into. I tried to shift subtly away, but there was no ignoring his thickness between my legs. He, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have a problem as he continued, “We’re stuck with each other for the rest of our lives. We need to try to work this out, Principessa . Tell me why you’re unhappy?”
Silence crept into the room and threw a party. Seconds turned into minutes, into several. It didn’t seem to touch him. His eyes pinned me as if he could see to the very depths of my soul. But it bothered me like a nasty rash I just had to scratch.
“I wanted a marriage like Nio,” I finally muttered.
“Who’s Nio?” He frowned.
“Antonio.”
I thought he had been still under me before, but he literally froze beneath me. “You wanted to marry him?” he grated out.
“Ew, no! He’s like my brother.”
“What then?”
“He loves Divya. He’s faithful to her. I want that.”
He sighed, and the heaviness of it infiltrated my chest. “You know there is not much love to be found in the Cosa Nostra .”
“I know.” I could live with that. What did I know of love, anyway? Not like I’d seen Papà show much of it to Mamma. And I wouldn’t touch Mamma’s love with a ten-foot pole. What I couldn’t live without was faithfulness. “Neither is faithfulness,” I bit out harshly.
“Is that what you want?”
“Is that what you want?” I retorted.
The hands on my ass clenched into fists as he stiffened. I laughed harshly. “It’s such hypocrisy. You can cheat on me, but I can’t? You can go out to work, and I can’t? This! This is what I didn’t want. I didn’t want a made man.”
His jaw ticked like a time bomb, a pulse throbbed in his temple. Three, two, one, and I thought he would explode. But all he did was grip my chin in his hand.
“So let’s make a deal,” he said gruffly.
“What? I have a cousin whose husband has promised her never to fuck a friend of hers. Is that the type of deal you want to strike?”
His jaw clenched, and his grip tightened on my chin.
“I won’t cheat on you, and you promise to give this marriage a try.”
I pulled back to eye him. “You’re—”
“ Principessa , you should know I don’t give my word lightly. So do I have yours?”
I didn’t believe him. Every vein in his body would scream to fuck the next woman he met. Not his fault, really. That’s how he was programmed. Just like that’s how Papà was made.
“Are you going to try, Daria?” he whispered.
His eyes flickered with something dark that urged me to give in. I tried to imagine a marriage to him where he didn’t cheat. It didn’t take me far. It was easier to picture him coming out of another woman’s room, fucking a maid, or smelling of alcohol and sex after work.
“I haven’t cheated on you, Daria,” his soft tone urged.
“Yet,” I muttered.
He sighed. “Why don’t you give me the benefit of the doubt?”
I suppose I could try . He wouldn’t last long anyway.
“I could try,” I muttered unconvinced, but he jumped on it like I’d cut my arm and sworn with blood.
“That’s all I am asking.”
He ran his hand along my cheek and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “One step at a time. Prove me you mean it.”
I puffed my lips out. How am I to do that?
“Give me a kiss.”
What? What did a kiss have to do with any of this?
“Before you say I gave my word for a kiss, I didn’t. I gave my word to you, and I want you to give yourself to me.” He tipped my chin up. “All I am asking for is a kiss today.” He held up his hands. “I won’t push you. You can get off me and walk out the door.” He nodded towards the door. “But I would really like it if you would press those beautiful lips of yours against mine and show me you want to try. Show me you mean what you said, just like I showed you by hauling Benedetta here for you. Actions speak louder than words. What do you think, Principessa ?”
I thought I wanted to get off him and run. Run all the way to Corleone and put my head on Mamma’s lap. My eyes dropped to his lips. They were full and thick and lined with the darkness of black hair. The thought ran through my mind of whether his scruff would tickle. My body throbbed somewhere I refused to acknowledge. Just because he was so different from me. My hands twitched to know what it would feel like to have them on a man. His tongue slipped out and trailed across his upper lip. Medda! It was like he touched my lips with his tongue. Now his lips were all wet. I bit my bottom lip and pondered. The pinch in my lip and the tongue on his. A giddiness I’d never known before overtook me, and before I knew it, and could stop myself, I had leaned forward and touched my lips to his. It felt soft and gruff at the same time. He didn’t move. I was not sure if he even breathed. What am I to do now? I should stop. My breath fell on his lips, and I put my tongue on them and gave a soft flick. I liked that. I trailed his lips with mine, and a rough groan left him. It was so unexpected and threw me off so much that I was off his lap and out the door before the next breath. Only I wasn’t sure if it was mine or his.