CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
S TEFANIE
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T HAT NIGHT, JULIAN came home later than usual. But he’d texted and let me know something had come up at work, so I knew he would be late. I was curled up on the couch, laptop open on my knees, pretending to type but mostly just waiting, counting the seconds, for the sound of his key in the door.
When I heard it, I smiled. He stepped inside, looking like every sinful fantasy I'd ever had, sleeves pushed up his forearms, shirt clinging just a little too well to his chest. His hair was messy. Most women would think that meant he was out cheating.
I knew better. He’d probably had to handle some Cattaneo business. I didn’t ask any questions. I just smiled at him when his gaze landed on me. His mouth lifted into that slow, sexy smile that could undo me in less than a second.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said, sounding tired as he closed and locked the door behind him.
“Hey, handsome,” I said, snapping my laptop shut and sliding it onto the coffee table.
He didn't even hesitate. He crossed the room, tugging loose his tie as he walked, dropping it on the back of a chair when he neared me. Then he sank down onto the couch beside me and pulled me straight into his lap.
The moment I was seated against him, his hands locked around me, and I smiled, happy to be in his arms again. His nose brushed the side of my neck as he breathed me in, slow and deep, as if I were the only thing in the world he needed to recharge.
"I missed you today," he said, voice gravelly against my skin.
"I missed you, too," I whispered, threading my fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck.
He sighed and tightened his arms around me, pressing me harder to his chest. I shifted, settling deeper into his lap, my thighs straddling his waist, my core brushing the hard bulge straining behind his slacks. He was already half-hard, and just feeling him there sent heat spiraling low in my belly.
"I’ve been thinking about holding you like this all day," he murmured against my throat, his mouth skimming across my pulse.
So had I. It was crazy how his body fit so perfectly against mine. And it amazed me how he made the world outside of this house disappear with a touch. He pressed a kiss to my throat. I tilted my head back, offering him more access.
His mouth trailed down the column of my neck, kissing, teasing, licking. My hips moved of their own accord, a slow grind that made him groan against my skin.
“You keep doing that," he warned. “And I’m going to fuck you right here, right now."
The thought alone made me wetter.
"Maybe that’s the point," I whispered, my voice sultry as hell.
He chuckled low in his chest, but there was no humor in it, just raw hunger. He slid one hand up my spine, the other curling around the back of my neck as he lifted his head, his eyes burning into mine.
His gaze pinned me in place, and before I could even catch my next breath, he crushed his mouth to mine. It was the kind of kiss that stole every thought right out of my head. His tongue danced with mine, his hands sliding over my hips, my thighs, dragging me harder against him as if he couldn’t get close enough.
I kissed him back just as desperately, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more. His hands roamed everywhere, over my ass, up my sides, under my shirt. His palms were hot against my bare skin, every brush of his fingers lit me up like a live wire.
He pulled away just long enough to yank my T-shirt over my head, tossing it somewhere across the room. I gasped, the cool air hitting my bare skin, but before the shiver could settle, he was there, mouth hot and hungry against the curve of my breast.
"Fuck, baby," he groaned against my skin. "You feel so good. I thought about you all damn day."
I whimpered, arching into him, nails digging into his shoulders. His hard length pressed against the thin cotton of my boy shorts that barely covered all my ass. I ground down against him shamelessly, loving the friction.
His mouth found mine again, even rougher this time, his teeth nipping my bottom lip before he slid one hand between us.
"These little shorts," he muttered, voice thick with desire as he pushed them aside, finding me wet and ready. "You wore these knowing what they do to me, didn’t you?"
I opened my mouth to answer, but he slid two fingers inside me, and all that came out was a broken, gasping moan.
"That's what I thought," he growled, pumping his fingers slow and deep, curling them just right to make my hips buck against him. "So fucking wet for me."
I gripped his shirt, trying to haul him closer, but he was already moving, undoing his belt with quick fingers, dragging his pants down just enough to free his cock. And fuck, he was hard. Rock solid, thick, and ready
"Julian," I begged, grinding down against his thigh, desperate for him, dizzy with arousal.
"It’s coming, baby," he murmured, lining himself up against me. "I got you."
And then he was pushing inside with one hard, brutal stroke that had me clawing at his back, moaning his name as he stretched me. He hissed against my throat as he bottomed out in my pussy, his hands gripping my hips.
"You feel like fucking heaven," he rasped, rocking into me with hard, shallow thrusts that sent sparks skittering down my spine.
I clung to him, every muscle locking tight, every nerve ending sparking to life.
"Harder," I whispered, and he gave it to me, slamming into me with a desperate rhythm, like he needed this every bit as badly as I did.
The couch creaked under us, the air thick with the sounds of skin on skin, breathless moans, gasping curses.
"You love this dick, don’t you, baby?" he grunted against my ear. "You love it when I come home and take you like this, don’t you?"
"Yes," I sobbed, nails raking down his back. "Hell yes."
He shifted slightly, changing the angle, cock driving deeper into me. I groaned his name, my body clamping down around him like a vice.
"That's it," he growled. "Grip this cock. Fucking soak me, baby."
It didn't take much more. A few more brutal thrusts and I was falling apart, my whole body shaking as the orgasm ripped through me, leaving me a whimpering, gasping mess in his arms.
He followed with a broken groan, body jerking against mine as he spilled inside me, holding me against him tightly. We stayed there, clinging to each other, breathless and shaking, the only sound in the room our ragged breathing and the faint creak of the couch underneath us.
“I hope I’ve inspired you to write a quickie scene,” he whispered, breaking the silence.
My chuckle drifted through the air. “Hell yeah, you have.”
After a long minute, Julian lifted his head, brushing my sweaty hair back from my face with a sweet tenderness I’d become addicted to.
"I fucking love you," he whispered, voice low.
And there was that savagery I craved also. I stared at him, sated and dazed. I saw that love in his eyes, and I knew he was ready to hear me say it back. I was saying it in my heart. I just couldn’t say it aloud yet.
Instead, I gripped his shirt collar and pulled him in for another kiss. Though I’d showered before he got home, I showered again with him. And that night, I fell asleep in his arms, face against his chest, breathing in the scent of his body wash.
I could say without a shadow of doubt that I was addicted to Julian Cattaneo. Which was why the first thing I was going to do tomorrow was message Archie’s mother. It was time for me to have an overdue conversation with his family.
It was time for me to set those boundaries I’d been wanting to set for so long. The next morning, after I kissed Julian goodbye and watched him walk to his car, I went back inside and sent a text to my ex-mother-in-law. It was a simple text.
“We need to talk. Come to my house today at 11 a.m. Please be on time.”
No explanation. One wasn’t needed. There was only one thing I could possibly want to talk to her about. The hour that followed was a haze of wiping counters, fluffing pillows, and rearranging things that didn’t need moving.
It wasn’t until I was getting dressed that I realized I always went into a cleaning haze when his mother was coming over. It was an automatic response that started from years of her coming to my house when Archie was alive and being judgmental of the way I kept up my home.
So even now, I subconsciously went into that cleaning mode when she was coming. That realization angered the hell out of me and made me even more ready to end this toxic relationship I had with his family. When the knock came at around 11:15, I was ready.
I checked the cameras to make sure it was really them before deactivating the alarm. I opened the door to find them standing on the porch, Archie's mother, his sister, and his brother, Arnold, all looking tense, suspicious, like they knew something was coming but weren’t sure what. I smiled and stepped aside to let them in.
“Thank you for coming,” I said evenly.
Archie’s mother clutched her purse tighter to her chest as she stepped inside. Bitch, my pedicure and manicure cost more than your purse. His sister rolled her eyes like she already thought this was a waste of time.
I glared at her, knowing that she hated me even though she’d pretended to be my friend for years. The better I did in life, the more she hated me. And that hatred had been passed down to India.
When she looked at my daughter, I always saw that same jealousy in her eyes that I saw when she looked at me. How could you be jealous of a child, your own niece? Arnold just looked bored, his jaw tight with impatience.
When his gaze roamed over me, I felt creeped out. I’d never let this man get close to India, and I never let her be alone with him. I couldn’t believe that years ago, I’d treated him as a younger brother.
I can’t believe how blind I was back when I was dating Archie. Then again, they’d all acted differently at first, including Archie. As soon as those vows were said, their masks slipped off, and I got to see the real Adams family.
I closed the door behind them and locked it with a soft click. Arnold glanced at the lock, frowning, but didn’t say anything. I gestured to the chairs I’d placed around the center table in the living room because I didn’t want them sitting on the same couches Julian and I fucked on.
“Please, sit,” I told them.
Archie’s mother, Susan, stared over at the couch.
“Why aren’t we allowed to sit on your living room furniture?” she asked, nose turned up.
“Because I have these chairs here ready for you. I even have one for me.”
“But...” she started.
“Let’s be seated,” I spoke over her.
“What’s with that bear over there?” Archie’s sister, Abby, asked. “Is that Indi’s? Isn’t she too old for bears?”
I’d forgotten to move the bear back to the bedroom. Damn . Good thing the light wasn’t on. I lied and told them the bear belonged to India. They sat stiffly, fidgeting, casting glances at each other. I stayed standing for a moment, looking at them, calm, unmoved, unapologetic.
“I thought this was important,” Arnold said, shifting in his seat. “Let’s get it over with.”
“I asked you here today because it’s time for a few things to change," I said, my voice calm. "Starting today, there will be new boundaries between us.”
Arnold snorted under his breath. His sister gave a sarcastic laugh. Their mother just looked hurt, her lip trembling like she might cry. I didn’t flinch. Their mother always cried when she wanted someone to feel sorry for her.
I hadn’t even said what the changes would be, and she was already preparing to release her tears. I was so fucking done with these people.
“No more asking me for money,” I continued. “No more guilt trips. No more showing up unannounced at my house when I don’t answer your calls.”
My eyes locked with Arnold’s because he was the one guilty of that. He looked down at his hands, unable to meet my gaze.
“From now on, you will have no contact with India without my permission.”
“That’s not new,” Abby scoffed. “You already don’t let us see her without you present.”
“I mean no contact! No phone calls, no texts, nothing.”
Cue the tears from Susan. She sniffled, reaching into her purse to get a handkerchief, and placed it against her nose.
“So now,” Susan started, voice trembling. “Not only can I not see my grandchild without you being there, but I can’t call her either. If my son were here, he’d be so shocked to see what you’re doing to us.”
“If your son were here, he’d be somewhere with his mistress, raising India, and you all wouldn’t be a part of my life at all,” I clarified, gaze moving to the bear to make sure the light still wasn’t on. It wasn’t.
“Stefanie!” Susan gasped.
“What?” I asked, cocking my head to the side. “Did I tell a lie?”
“Why do you always bring up the past when you see us?” Abby said.
“I think she does it to hurt me,” Susan whispered, voice wobbly.
I held up a hand, silencing Susan before she could say more.
“I’m not here to argue with you all. I’m here to inform you that this is how it’s going to be from now on. No contact with India at all. If you want to talk to her, contact me first. No visiting her, even after she turns eighteen.” I ignored Susan’s tears as Abby rubbed her mother’s shoulders, fake consoling her.
“Not only do I want you to stop contacting India, but I also want you to only contact me if it’s about India. Don’t call me when your business is failing. I’m not your money tree or your cash cow. I will no longer help you out when you run into a bind and owe creditors money or when you fail at business after business.”
Arnold shoved back in his chair, glaring daggers at me. “That’s what this meeting is really about, isn’t it? Money? You think you can cut us off just like that? After everything you did? You owe us.”
I stayed still. Calm. Though I was burning up inside.
“I don’t owe you anything, Arnold,” I said. “I can cut you off. And I will. I just did.”
His sister sneered. “You’re a selfish bitch, Stefanie and I honestly don’t know how I ever called you a friend.”
“We were never friends, not really. And please refrain from name-calling. I haven’t called you all a family of greedy abusers with an inferiority complex and the inability to realize that you’re exactly what the bible you read speaks out against.”
“Stefanie!” Abby yelled, and her mother wailed, crocodile tears spilling down her cheeks. “I can’t believe you’re talking to us like this. And I can’t believe you really want to keep India from her real family.”
“I’m her real family. I’m the one who raised her. Not once did you offer your help, not monetarily or emotionally. None of you has ever spent more than thirty minutes with her.”
“Because you don’t let us,” Abby argued.
“When I used to let you come see her, you all came together, like this, you stayed and played with her for maybe five minutes, then you tried walking around my house, looking for things you could ask for. Or you commented on how a single mother could afford such a nice home and the things I had in it.”
“That’s because you profited off my son’s death,” Susan wailed.
“I didn’t profit off his death. I didn’t even know he had that life insurance policy until after his death. And I damn sure hadn’t expected him to put me as the beneficiary, considering that he was in the process of leaving me.”
“He didn’t get a chance to change it,” Abby yelled. “He was going to change it and put me as the beneficiary.”
“Too bad he never got around to it, huh?” I shrugged.
“You bitch!” Abby hissed.
“If refusing to give you the money my husband left to me makes me a bitch, then I’ll be that. I used that money to make sure my daughter had a roof over her head and that she never had to want for anything. I used it to pay for her college, and when she’s ready, I’m going to buy her a car and help her get her first house. I never squandered that money. I made sure India grew up happy, safe, and secure. I invested it so she’d never need anyone in the future. I even used it to help you all over the years. But you took advantage of me and India. And that ends now.”
“You know what will happen if you do this, don’t you?” Arnold asked, lounging in my chair, a smug smile on his cruel face.
“If you tell her anything about her parentage," I said slowly. "If you try to poison her against me, I will tell her the whole truth about Archie. About how he really treated me. About how he hurt me. I’ll tell her the truth about her mother and how they tricked me and used me. And then I’ll tell her how he stole from me and tried to run off with her mother, leaving me with his creditors hounding me. Then I’ll tell her how none of you wanted her when she was born. How you even said she wouldn’t fit in with your family because she was mixed. Then I’ll tell her that I find it creepy the way Arnold stares at her, which is why I’ve always told her to stay away from him.”
Arnold’s mouth dropped open, stunned and silent, probably for the first time in his miserable life.
"And there’s more I could tell her. Things Archie talked about when he was drunk. Things about his father. Things about his uncles.”
Susan’s eyes widened as her kids looked to her for guidance.
“If you tell her anything," I continued, voice low and dark. “I’ll make sure she knows every single ugly thing you want hidden."
Archie's mother made a strangled sound. His sister paled, her lower lip trembling. Arnold stood up so fast his chair clattered back against the floor. He rounded the table, moving toward me.
The minute Arnold surged out of his seat, I slid my hands into my pockets, where I had a blade waiting just in case I had to show them better than I could tell them. I’d invited them into my home, knowing that things may get a bit ugly.
And I was ready for that.