5. Julia
5
JULIA
N o one had ever made me breakfast before. I had serving staff that prepared my meals every day, but I paid them to do that. Not even Hugo had lowered himself to cooking. And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to eat it. I stared at it for entirely too long before eventually chucking the whole plate in favor of drinking coffee instead.
The gesture was too kind, too personal, and after the way he’d stared at me when he woke me up from my nightmare, I felt too vulnerable to accept such a gift.
What did it mean? Why would he do it?
Did he simply make himself too much food and decide to give me the leftovers? Or was it a show of peace, a white flag over the vast divide between us? Was he trying to tell me he expected the same of me, and I was too well-bred to know the difference?
Should I start making him food? Was that what a wife of his… standing would expect? I hardly knew how to operate a vacuum, let alone an oven and stovetop.
Frustrated with myself, him, and the whole ridiculous thing, I showered and dressed before reviewing my texts from the previous evening. Titus replied with his typical precision. He knew the details of the upcoming arms deal and Gabriella’s conversations with various underbosses.
Titus: She’s still trying to ascertain whether Leo is alive. Davila may be a problem. He seems to know Leo’s location, but he wants more money.
He rattled off more information about my aunt’s itinerary and where she planned to be in the upcoming days. I decided to wager that against what I wanted from Roman. With this type of information, we could track her down. We might even be able to get her alone if we were lucky.
Hannah, on the other hand, hadn’t answered. I tried again, hoping to hear from her soon. Both of them knew the dangerous game they played, so I prayed nothing nefarious had happened to her. I prayed she hadn’t been found out.
My phone buzzed, flashing Della’s name, so I answered.
“It’s good to hear your voice,” she said. “How are you? Where are you?”
“I can’t say,” I replied. “But it’s good to hear from you, too. How are you?”
We caught up for a few minutes, and tears nearly burned my eyes at the thought of having to do this all without her. But she was being carefully watched on Caputi territory, and I had three “bodyguards” outside who wouldn’t let me have visitors without my husband’s permission, as if I needed that. What was supposed to be a healthy alliance had quickly turned into a cage.
“I’m planning a wedding,” I told her. “Something big and flashy.”
She scoffed. “And how are you going to do that without your family there?”
I didn’t answer her because I didn’t know. The Roses would attend, surely. But the Caputis? A proposition started to form in the back of my mind, something devious and maniacal. But it could work…if the chips fell in the right spots, if the Roses were on board, if Roman was on board.
“Sneak out and come home, Jules,” Della said. “I miss you. We all miss you. Chesco is going berserk without you.”
Chesco was my Uncle Frankie’s son, one of my closest cousins. He’d been born with a screw loose, more likely to shoot first and ask questions later than have a civil conversation. It had taken an act of God to convince him to let me go, that this was my idea and there was nothing he could do to stop me. Besides, after Gabriella’s raid, I’d been disowned. She couldn’t allow me back on Caputi territory even if Chesco convinced her to.
“He has a funny way of showing it,” I said. “He hasn’t answered any of my texts.”
“He’s mad at you,” she replied. “They all are. We didn’t want this.”
“Well, Gabriella forced my hand. You know that.”
Della sighed. “I know.”
“Tell him to call me,” I said. “Tell them all I still love them. I love you, too, Della.”
“I love you more, Jules.” We said our goodbyes and promised to find a way to get together soon before hanging up. And then I let the tears fall, allowing myself a few minutes of grief for my old life. It would never be the same again. I would never be able to walk into my home and have dinner with my family and drink with my cousins until I passed out. I’d never be able to go shopping with Della, or play cards with Chesco and tease him about the women he brought home. There were only two options at the end of this road: either they sided with Leo and the Roses, or they sided with Gabriella. There was no middle ground. There was no third option. And if they didn’t end up with me, I had no doubt my brother and my husband would kill them. The Potomac River would run red with Caputi blood by the time this was over, and that pained me most of all. We were family. I had a history with every single one of them, and to know at least half of them wouldn’t make it out alive cut me open.
A deep rumble came from outside, and I perked up, wiping the tears from my eyes. In all the moping, planning, and research I’d done throughout the day, I’d lost track of time. It was now close to five o’clock, and that noise could only mean one thing. I started to get up so I could hustle back to my room, but the sounds of boots on the porch outside made me pause.
“All right, man,” Roman said. “You can head out.”
The sentry just outside left as my husband opened the door and walked inside.
I had to swallow the reaction I had to him like this. Covered in grease stains and oil marks, he certainly looked the part of the filthy mechanic. His white shirt had been soiled with various finger swipes and his jeans were likewise just as grimy. His dark hair was windswept and tousled, likely from the helmet in his hands, and his face had a shiny gloss from sweat and sun. The veins in his arms protruded, hinting at the powerful muscles under his tanned skin, and his fingers were rough and callused and covered in black soot.
It shouldn’t have been attractive. I could nearly smell his long, hard day from across the room. But the heat of a sudden need to clean him off hit me in between the legs, making me want to see how badly he could mark me up with those worker’s hands. I clenched my thighs together, ignored that reaction, and raised an eyebrow.
“Nice of you to finally show up. I’ve only been sitting here all day like a trapped zoo animal.”
“You’re not a prisoner.” He sighed and set his helmet on the table next to the door before reaching into his pockets for his keys and wallet. “I thought you had a wedding to plan.”
“And how do you expect me to do that from your living room?” I tsked through my teeth. “I can hardly go dress shopping from here.”
“If you want to go out, go out.” He gestured to the door. “You’ve got three escorts anywhere in Madison County.”
“And they’ll report back to you anywhere I go.”
“Bullshit,” he said, taking a step closer. “They need to ask my permission before taking you anywhere.”
I scoffed. “And is that how our marriage is going to go? I’ll need your permission to do what I like?”
“Only while it’s not safe for you to leave,” he said. “Only while I’m not sure I can trust you.”
“Trust me?” How insulting. Hadn’t I done everything he asked? Hadn’t I married him, agreed to sleep with him, and spared him from cutting his throat open when he startled me last night? “Trust is only earned by trusting.”
“And do you trust me, wife?” He came closer still, his massive body backing me up to the kitchen island.
“Ugh, never.” The words came out, but I didn’t feel them as keenly as I had yesterday.
“Hmm.” He looked down at me, tracing his gaze over my expensive A-line dress, which was more costly than anything else in this house. His eyes twinkled like he had nothing but thoughts of putting his greasy paws all over it to see how badly he could mess it up. My heart skipped as I wondered if I would stop him. I took a deep breath and held his stare, trying not to shiver, trying not to be intimidated. I’d been right, of course. He smelled like oil and man and wind, nearly as overpowering as it was when he’d had me backed up against that doorjamb. For one mind-numbing moment, I thought he might kiss me. I thought he might actually put his dirty fingers under my skirt and rip my panties to the side and finally make good on our contractual obligations.
Instead, he curled his lips into a sexy grin, almost like he knew I’d been thinking about it, and stepped back.
“I need a shower.” He turned and walked upstairs, leaving me breathless, hot, and bothered in the kitchen. I rubbed my hands over my face, trying to get my mind back in the game.
Get a grip, girl.
I had things to tell him, deals to make. I wanted to give him the information I’d learned, but only if he came to a compromise with my place in his life. I wouldn’t be the princess in the tower ever again. When Hugo died, I swore to do whatever I needed to bring Gabriella down. Roman would have to give me a spot at his table. He didn’t have another choice. Leo didn’t have the sources I did, and until Roman conceded that fact, I had to remain resolute.
I couldn’t let my silly sexual frustration get the best of me.
Yes, that’s all this is.
It had been so long since I’d been intimate with anyone in any real way, and now that I was in a confined space with a man who drove me to my wit’s end, my hormones were taking over.
Enough, I told them. We need to be smart about this.
I walked up the stairs to head to my bedroom, but as I passed Roman’s room, I noticed the door was cracked. The sound of running water muffled his voice, but I could have sworn I heard a soft, “Mia cara,” come from inside.
Curious, I stopped and peered in. From this vantage point, I had a direct line of sight to the primary bathroom on the other side of the room, where that door had been left completely open. Through the mirror above the sink, I saw Roman in the shower. He’d thrown his head back, his long, muscular throat on tantalizing display as water dripped down his defined chest and over his corded abs that ended in a V, as if pointing to the best part of him. One hand braced his upper body against the tile wall, the other disappeared down his body, out of view.
But judging by the quick jerking motion, it was obvious what he was doing.
Heat flooded my body, my cheeks burned, and I clenched my fingers into fists as I stood there and watched with rapt attention. I couldn’t look away. I should have gone to my room. I should have let him have his privacy. But he was so glorious in all his naked splendor that the very feminine parts of me responded.
My lower stomach tightened, my thighs automatically pinching together to ease the ache. Without thinking about it, I tucked my right hand between them, rubbing my fingers over my most sensitive part.
I couldn’t help the moan that tripped out of my mouth, and at the sound, he opened his eyes, his gaze connecting with mine through the mirror. Humiliated that I’d been caught spying on him, I expected him to stop…to confront me…to degrade me for having the audacity to enjoy watching my enemy masturbate.
But instead, he kept going. He held my stare, his lips twisting into a smirk as he jerked himself faster. I gasped and held my breath, pressing my clit harder as he licked his lips. The connection overwhelmed me, bringing me back to reality—one where I hated him and everything he stood for. It didn’t matter if he was beautiful. Even if, logically, I knew I would eventually have to get over this animosity and indulge myself, that day had yet to come.
This is wrong. This is so wrong.
But that didn’t stop me. No, if anything, it spurned me on. If he thought he could mess with me, I wanted to show him I could give as good as I got. I worked my fingers faster, harder, holding his stare, and just as he groaned with his release, mine crashed over me. I moaned and shivered with the weight of my ecstasy, and when I was done, I brought my fingers to my lips to lick them clean, raising an eyebrow to dare him to do anything about it. He smiled as I backed away and headed toward my room. Once I was alone, I took a deep breath and ran my hands through my hair, wondering if I’d completely lost my ever-loving mind.