CHAPTER FOUR
ROME
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No longer able to eat, I just stood there, staring down into my plate until the food eventually turned cold. Only then did I get up, dump the rest into the trash, and carry the plate to the sink.
My body was on autopilot, going through the motions of living, but I didn’t truly feel alive. After washing the dishes, I headed to the bathroom and stripped off my clothes, tossing them into the hamper. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror.
Tired eyes. Healing bruises. A body held together by stubbornness and anger.
Looking away from my reflection, I placed my glasses in the top drawer of the cabinet. Then, I turned on the shower and let the water run to heat up. Once the temperature was to my liking, I stepped beneath the hot water, groaning as it washed over me, my muscles flexing underneath the spray.
Bracing my hand against the shower wall, I lowered my head, letting the water ease some of the tension in my shoulders. My side and leg ached. Not enough to take meds, though.
It was a dull ache, ever-present, proof that my body hadn’t fully recovered. A weakness I was ready to be rid of. Moving my head from left to right, I rotated my shoulders. A slow exhale escaped me before I tilted my head back, letting the water wash over my face.
Swiping my hand over my face, I stepped back and turned to grab a towel from the back shelf of the shower. After wetting it, I applied body wash and began scrubbing. One week. In one week, I would be heading home.
When I thought of home, my thoughts should’ve strayed to my family: my brothers, my cousins, my aunts. Anyone but Juliet. Yet, thinking of home made me think about her. A smile drifted across my face as I recalled the tiny outfits she wore during our nightly calls.
Almost nightly calls.
There had been a few nights when she hadn’t been available. Nights where I’d sat up, wondering what she was doing and who the fuck she was doing it with. The next day, I barely resisted the urge to demand answers, to order her to tell me who she’d been with.
But I didn’t demand answers. And my little cyber-criminal never offered an explanation. Even if they were lies, I still wished she’d tell me what was so important that she’d missed our scheduled time together.
My pride wouldn’t let me ask. But my mind wouldn’t let it go. She’d promised to be available tonight. I needed her to. I needed something to take my mind off my responsibilities and obligations.
I needed a distraction. I needed... her. What would she wear tonight? Would it be another tight shirt that revealed more than it concealed? Tiny shorts that barely covered her ass.
The image of her in that sheer white shirt flashed through my mind: her pierced nipple visible through the thin material while she leaned closer to the camera, asking filthy questions that made my cock twitch. As if on cue, my cock hardened almost immediately.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath as I tossed the towel onto the floor and allowed the suds to rinse from my body.
My hand slid lower before I could stop myself, wrapping around my cock as another image of her filled my mind. Juliet stretched out across her bed, clad in a lacy black bra and a black thong. I’d told her to turn around so I could see the view from the back. To my surprise, she obeyed.
That ass!
All. That. Damn. Ass.
I gripped my cock tighter, wondering if she realized just how dangerous she was. Maybe she realized it perfectly. That’s why she wore it, because she knew that shit would drive me crazy.
I stroked myself once. Twice. Groaning, I forced myself to stop. I didn’t want to jack off without her watching. It didn’t feel the same if her eyes weren’t on me when I came. It didn’t mean shit if she wasn’t talking me through it.
Fuck! That woman had completely ruined me. Before Juliet, I could go weeks without thinking twice about sex. Hell, months if I was really busy. It just wasn’t that important to me. Yeah, I enjoyed it.
I mean, who didn’t enjoy a mindless no-strings-attached fuck with a woman you never had to see more than once... or twice if it was good. But it wasn’t something I thought about every minute of every day.
Plus, most of the women in my circle were conniving schemers looking to force a Cattaneo to marry them. Or they’d been sent our way by an enemy to try to take us down. Normally, I could spot a woman like that miles away.
And normally, after one fuck, I was done with them. Either I was losing my ability to spot a scheme, or I was willingly allowing myself to be schemed against. All I knew was that I usually didn’t allow women or sex to distract me.
Now, one message from Juliet was enough to have me hard and distracted like some desperate virgin. Juliet had somehow become the exception to every rule I normally lived by. But it wasn’t just about sex, and that was the problem.
Yeah, she was sexy as hell, but she was also smart. I loved the way her mind worked. Our daily cyber duels gave me a glimpse into how she thought, how she problem-solved. She was able to change her methods on the fly.
She didn’t hesitate often, and she rarely got stumped by anything I threw at her. Plus, I loved the way she flirted while trying to hack me. It was our twisted version of foreplay, and it worked for us.
Juliet challenged me, frustrated me, and, if I was honest, slightly scared me with the way she made me feel. Most importantly, she made the loneliness go away. Even from thousands of miles away, she somehow made my life seem less empty.
She gave me something to look forward to during lunch and at the end of the day. I now had someone to come home to, even though she wasn’t there physically. The hours we spent talking had become the best part of my day.
When she laughed, teased me, flirted with me, challenged me... all the heaviness I carried seemed to fade into the background for a while. I felt like I needed her. Other than my brothers, I’d never needed anyone before.
Not like this. Not the way I needed Juliet. Needed this feeling she gave me. I dabbled in pharmaceuticals. Therefore, I understood what addiction was. I understood the signs. This thing with Juliet was starting to feel like an addiction I couldn’t shake.
An addiction I didn’t want to shake. I needed the dopamine her presence injected into my life. Needed the rush of happiness she made me feel. Juliet made me smile. I didn’t want to lose that.
I found myself wanting to be the reason she smiled, wanting to make her feel just as needy as I did. I wanted to become her drug of choice, her addiction. I didn’t know what the fuck I’d do if all of this ended up being some elaborate scheme.
The dark feeling that crept over me at that thought made the blood in my veins turn cold. I didn’t want to know what I’d do if she betrayed me. I didn’t want to think about it. Fuck, the water in the shower had turned cold, and I hadn’t even noticed.
I quickly shut it off and pulled the glass door open, stepping out onto the mat.
I grabbed a towel and dried off quickly, tossing it into the hamper before grabbing another to dry my hair.
When I finished, I strode to the bedroom.
By the time I finally crawled into bed, exhaustion dragged me under almost immediately.
I slept soundly. If I dreamed at all, I didn’t remember it. The sound of my alarm pulled me from sleep hours later. Groaning, I reached for my phone and silenced it before checking the time.
9:45 PM.
A slow grin spread across my face as I sat up in bed. It was almost time for me to chat with my Juliet. I threw the covers off and got out of bed. My leg protested slightly. Ignoring the dull ache, I crossed the room and flipped on the lamp beside the dresser.
Soft light filled the bedroom. My gaze immediately lifted to the mirror. I was still naked, fresh out of sleep, my hair slightly tousled. But she said she liked it like that. When we’d first started these chats, I’d worn my hair longer.
A man bun had been my go-to style, which Raz often joked about. Juliet made a comment about wondering what I’d look like with it shorter. A week later, she found out. For a second, I just stood there staring at my reflection.
I ran my hand along the bruise on my side, wondering what she thought when she saw me like this. What she really thought. After the attack at Tower D, she’d been shocked to see me all banged up.
Like the addict I was, I’d had my laptop brought to the hospital so I could chat with her there. Even wounded and hospitalized, I hadn’t been able to stay away from my drug of choice. She’d seemed genuinely worried about me.
Had even promised not to resume her hacking attempts until I was better. If that wasn’t love, I didn’t know what was. Once the doctor had cleared me to resume working out, I’d started back hitting the weights.
I was fit. Even so, I found myself dropping to the floor. I planted my palms against the hardwood and started doing push-ups.
One. Two. Three.
My side started to ache around fifteen, but I ignored it and kept going.
Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two.
Sweat gathered across my skin while my muscles strained beneath the effort. My side felt like it was on fire.
Twenty-five.
That was enough for tonight. Breathing harder now, I pushed myself back onto my feet and stared at my reflection again. My chest rose and fell steadily while a thin sheen of sweat covered my skin.
My abs looked more defined beneath the soft light, the muscles tighter now. I didn’t want to think too hard about why that mattered. Didn’t want to think about why I cared so much about what I looked like before talking to a woman I’d never even met in person. But I cared. Obviously.
Shaking my head at myself, I strode into the bathroom and grabbed two towels from the cabinet. I wet one beneath warm water before wringing it out thoroughly. Then I carried both towels back into the bedroom and placed them on the nightstand beside the bed.
One dry. One damp.