Chapter 14
GAbrIELLA
I admit I walked into this sauna wearing nothing but a towel, but I didn’t walk in with the intention of having sex.
I barged in to give Marco a piece of my mind for leaving me behind at the winter festival.
And I did.
And somehow, I’m now wrapped in his arms, our bodies moving together.
God, he feels so good.
Marco is a cool, aloof man, but like this, he’s warm and responsive. This is the only time he lets go and gives in to the pleasures of life.
That's the tragedy of Marco Calabresi.
He’s convinced himself that feeling nothing is safer than feeling everything. He holds back, contains, controls except in these moments when his body betrays him and shows me glimpses of the man hiding beneath all that armor.
"Marco," I whisper against his neck as he moves inside me, his hands gripping my hips, guiding me, supporting me.
His breath catches as I shift my weight, taking him deeper. His eyes are different now, alive with a rawness he never allows himself to show.
His fingers tangle in my hair as he pulls me down for another kiss, hot and passionate. I moan at the taste of him.
I grip his shoulders as I ride him, savoring the feel of him inside me again.
I’m not foolish enough to think this changes anything. He won’t change his mind about me, about being open to seeing where this intense relationship could go.
At this moment, I don’t care.
The heat from the sauna intensifies everything.
Our skin is slick with sweat, his hands gripping my thighs as I move above him.
Marco's eyes lock on mine, unguarded in a way that makes my heart swell with emotion.
“More…” I breathe, bracing my hands against his broad shoulders, picking up my pace as I chase my orgasm.
His response is a low growl. “Fuck me faster.”
He dips his head, lightly biting my nipple.
I arch my back, taking him deeper, and his hand slides up my spine to support me.
My thighs burn from the exertion, but I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. And I don't want to.
I've spent a year trying to forget how perfectly we fit together.
"Look at me," he commands.
I open my eyes, my body tightening around him as the tension builds. His thumb finds where we're joined, rubbing.
“Oh!” I gasp as pleasure coils tighter.
"That's it," he murmurs. "Come. Fucking come, Gabriella.”
My release detonates, exploding through my body, making me shudder, my pussy pulsing around him like it never plans to stop.
“Yes! Fuck yes!” His fingers dig into my hips as he bucks underneath me.
For a moment, we move wildly as we hold on to the first waves of pleasure.
Then our bodies slow until I’m completely boneless and collapse against him.
His arms wrap around me, holding me close as our heartbeats gradually slow.
I rest my forehead against his, our breaths mingling in the humid air.
This moment of peace won't last. It never does with us.
And right on cue, Marco tenses beneath me. His eyes widen with alarm as he firmly lifts me off him.
“Fuck.”
My legs are wobbly, but I finally steady them and move to sit back on the bench across from him.
I don’t say anything, wondering what he’s specifically upset about. There’s so much to choose from.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He stands, hastily wrapping his towel around him and pacing the small space.
I’m getting the sense that his distress isn’t the usual, like I’m too young or I’m Antonio’s daughter, or he doesn’t want a relationship.
His dark eyes bore down on me. “I didn’t use a condom.”
Oh, God. That is bad.
Reality crashes back with brutal force. I’m not quite sure how to respond considering how he feels about family.
“Fuck!” He bellows again, and now I’m getting annoyed. I know this situation is problematic, but I can’t help but take his reaction personally.
“You need to relax—”
“Relax! Fucking hell, Gabriella… you could be pregnant.” He lets out an angry growl. "I can't be a father. I won't be."
It’s the anguish behind those words that has my anger lessening. I reach out my hand to him, but he pulls away.
"Marco, look at me."
When he finally turns, the vulnerability in his eyes breaks my heart. Here’s a man who faces danger for a living but is terrified at the prospect of being a father.
"It's okay," I tell him, meaning it.
“It’s not okay.”
I stand and block him from pacing. "I promise you, everything is fine. There's nothing to worry about." It’s a lie.
I'd stopped taking my birth control pills months ago. I’d missed some due to illness and decided that since I wasn’t dating and was focused on helping my father, I didn’t need them now.
So it’s possible I could get pregnant, but I hate seeing him rattled like this.
His eyes search mine, like he’s desperate to believe me. The panic gradually subsides from his expression.
“You’re on birth control.”
“It’s fine,” I say again.
His shoulders relax, and I know I've made the right choice for now.
The truth would only send him spiraling again, and for what? If nothing comes of this, he never needs to know.
And if something does, well, I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.
He shakes his head. “Stupid. Why couldn’t we have waited until—”
“Don’t you dare blame this on me. I was leaving, remember?”
“I should have let you go.”
After what I’ve just done to spare him from panic, he doesn’t have any problem hurting me.
I tug my towel up higher. “Yeah, you should have.” I’m fuming inside. “You can be a real asshole, Marco, you know that?”
His eyes narrow. “Is this what you wanted? You came in here wanting to fuck—”
“No, I came in here to call you an asshole.” That much is true.
“At the time, it was for leaving me at the festival. Now I’m calling you one because you fucked me but are acting like being with me is the end of the world.
You didn’t seem to have any problem when you impaled your dick into me. ” This is stupid.
Why did I allow this to happen? I knew better.
I turn to leave.
“Gabriella—”
“No,” I snap. “I don’t want to hear what you have to say because it will just be all your stupid excuses.
I’ve always thought you pushed people away because your parents were assholes and you think you’re unlovable.
But the truth is, you are unlovable, Marco, because you treat people like shit.
” I push through the sauna door, the cool air hitting me.
I decide I’ll shower upstairs, so I find my clothes and begin putting them on.
When the sauna door doesn’t open, I’m both relieved and annoyed that Marco isn’t following me out.
It’s uncomfortable and difficult to dress when sweaty, but with jerky movements, I yank on my pants and tug on my sweater.
When the door to the sauna opens, I give him a scathing glance. “Too early. I’m still here. Hide for another moment and I’ll be gone.”
He lets out a sigh. “Gabriella, don’t be like this.”
“Like what, Marco? Hurt that you blame me for your libido? For forgetting to put on a condom? For being a woman? What shouldn’t I be like?”
“Look, I admit I overreacted, but I won’t apologize for how I want to live my life. You know how I feel about relationships and kids.”
“Then get a fucking vasectomy.”
He flinches, although I’m not sure if it’s my choice of words or the idea of getting his dick snipped.
“It’s not my fault you fucked up in there… or at least not all my fault. It takes two to tango, so they say.” I yank my shoes on.
“I’m not blaming you.” His phone rings from where it sits on a table outside the sauna. He glances at it and looks torn.
“Answer it. You and I have nothing more to discuss.” I brush past him to exit the basement.
“Fuck!”
I ignore his outburst and head upstairs. I strip in my room and get into the shower.
I scrub my body, wishing I could wash Marco away. My memories. My feelings. All of it.
As my hands slide over my belly, I’m reminded what started this latest fight.
I’ve always enjoyed adventure and excitement in my life, but I’ve also always thought I’d settle down someday and have a family.
For me, the biggest fear of being pregnant has less to do with an unplanned pregnancy and more to do with the father.
Marco’s head nearly exploded when he realized he didn’t use a condom.
This is not the way I want to have a child, but if it’s how it turns out, then so be it.
I’m smart and have resources.
I can work and raise a child without Marco.
As I exit my shower, I hear my phone ringing. I quickly wrap a towel around me and hurry to the phone sitting on the bedside table.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Monti.”
Oh, great. Just what I need. “Agent Blackwood.”
“I’m following up. I understand your worries. Don Calabresi is a dangerous man.”
All it takes to bring Marco down is the threat of marriage and a baby, I think.
“Your current arrangement makes this an ideal time to gather intel.”
“You certainly seem to know a lot already,” I say, trying to remember whether I’d mentioned I’d be at Marco’s house. I don’t believe I did.
Why would I?
It suggests that Agent Blackwood already has someone on the inside, or at the very least, someone watching the house.
“It’s my job. But I can do it better and faster, with less danger to you and your family, if you’ll help.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, glancing at the door to make sure Marco isn’t there.
The last thing I need is my “guardian” to catch me talking to the Feds.
“What are you looking for, specifically?” Why not sus out what Agent Blackwood knows and what he’s hoping to find?
“You’re a lawyer, Ms. Monti. You know I need evidence that will lead to a conviction. Any crime will do. Racketeering. Murder. Tax evasion. Take your pick.”
“And my father remains safe? Immune from prosecution?”
“Of course.”
“Send me paperwork and I’ll see what I can do.”
He pauses, almost as if he didn’t expect me to agree.
And I don’t agree, not really. I’m just turning the tables.
“That will take—”
“I won't help you until I have it in writing that my father—my family—is safe from prosecution.”
Another long pause. “I’ll be in touch.” He hangs up.
I blow out a breath knowing I’m playing with fire.
I’ll need to let Marco know about this call or I could end up in hotter water than I already am.
I dress in an oversized sweater, leggings, and wool socks, then head downstairs to Marco’s office.
When I find it empty, I go to the kitchen where Maria is having tea.
“Ms. Monti.” She starts to rise, but I wave her down.
“Enjoy your break. Do you know where Marco is?”
“I believe he went out.”
I wonder if he’s running away from me or if his call was something related to work.
“Carlos said he received a call from Mr. Ginetti.”
So work, then. A flicker of worry ignites in my belly.
Dons don’t rush out for work unless there’s something going on, and in our world, that something usually involves danger.
“Thank you, Maria.” I head back upstairs trying not to worry too much about Marco’s safety.
He’s been at this for a long time. He’s a careful man, always weighing the risks, always ready to defend what’s his.
What’s not his is me.
I press my hand to my belly again, having an odd wish that a baby is growing there while also terrified of the idea.
But then I think of Elena who ended up in a similar situation, pregnant with an absent father, although I’m not sure how or why or who he is.
But she’s done well as a single mom.
I don’t pretend it will be easy, but neither is it the end of the world as Marco makes it seem.
In fact, the idea of being a mom sounds like a great new adventure.
An adventure Marco will never know because if I do end up pregnant, I won’t be telling him. Why should I?
He doesn’t want me or a baby. I’ll move away, to Italy, maybe, and live contentedly with my child.
Marco can live his life just as he wants. A bitter, lonely man.