16. Santino
SANTINO
The rage, betrayal, and hurt double when I see her in person. I’m standing in the doorway, locked inside, surrounded by the floral scent that sticks to her skin. When I kissed her knuckles at the restaurant, the sweet aroma of lilies drenched her flesh.
I’m addicted.
Knowing she’s so close, knowing she smells so fucking good has my cock threatening to become hard, thickening in my pants.
I have to remember I’m angry, that I’m hurt, that I fell in love with someone who never wanted to love me. I’ve been played a fool. I’ve killed for so much less.
Her face when I entered her business, she was happy.
She was smiling, squealing, and her cheeks were pink with passion and happiness.
Now, she’s staring at me with wide, fearful eyes, and she’s lost all the color in her face.
She turns so pale, I wonder if she’s about to be sick.
The light above her shines onto her face and I’m able to see the visible beads of sweat as her skin becomes clammy.
“Santino, I… please. Let me explain and then, you can do whatever you want to me.” She blinks fast, staring up to the light to stop her tears.
Tears won’t work on me. Not today.
I hold up my hand, stopping her from saying anything else. “Gather your belongings. Pack a bag. You’re coming with me. I don’t know how long for, but you won’t be home for a while.” I keep my voice curt and filled with rage, clipping every word.
She looks down, nodding, and wipes her cheeks. “I understand. I have orders?—”
“—Not today. I’ve had my security team refund all the orders already.”
She stands up so fast, her chair tilts backwards, falling to the ground. “What? How dare you! I have a business to run. This is how I earn my living. I don’t have buckets of money like you, Santino.” Her panic twists her lips with hatred. “You’re going to cost me money.”
“And you’ve cost me dignity, but you won’t talk about that will we?” I sneer, taking a step forward. “You must not know me at all. I’ve covered your bills for the next week. Your website is shut down, I’ve given your customers a discount code for their next order.”
“Impossible… How did you get into my systems?”
I snort, knowing how sweet and innocent she really is. “I’m Santino Salvati, Jovie. I can do anything I fucking want. Including making sure that I take care of the woman that stabbed me in the chest. I don’t want to hear any excuses. Please, go grab your bags.”
“Santino—”
“—I said to go grab your bags!” I roar at her, charging forward until her desk is the only thing between us.
She trembles, fear transforming her face. Jovie steps back, wanting space between us, and I regret losing my temper.
I’d never harm her.
Even if she went out of her way to harm me.
Doesn’t she understand that I’d walk through fire for her even if she were the one who lit the match to burn me?
“Can we talk?” she whispers in a broken voice that almost has me run around the desk to hold her.
I stop myself.
“Not yet. Not here,” I state, staring into copper eyes that I want to look into when she’s looking up at me from lying flat on her back. “I’m not ready to talk to you yet.” I only want to be with you. I only want to use this against you so I can have you all to myself.
I’m hurt, yes, but I know what I want more than being enraged.
I want her. I want an explanation. I want her to beg for my forgiveness.
On her knees. On her back. Her mouth full of my cock.
There are so many ways this can end well for the both of us.
“I understand,” she whispers, her voice small and hopeless. “I have to go upstairs. That’s where my apartment is. I’ll be done in a few minutes.”
I walk around the desk and stand beside her, stretching out my arm for her to lead the way. “After you.”
“You don’t trust me to pack a bag? Where am I going to go?”
“I don’t know you well enough to answer that, apparently.”
She flinches as if I’ve raised my hand to hit her. “You know me better than anyone else,” she says as she walks away, leaving me with the gift of her beautiful backside.
I follow her, like I’m a dog on a leash, never wanting to be too far away from the one who owns me.
Jovie unlocks a door to the left and swings it open, the stairs creaking as she climbs up to her apartment door. I frown, hating that she lives here. She deserves so much more than… this.
It’s old. She’s kept it in great shape, but is it even up to code? Is she safe here?
I’ll need to buy this building and renovate it too, so I know she’s safe.
That will be difficult considering she owns this building.
I’ve done my homework on Jovie Morgan, who inherited this shop from her parents after they died.
It’s been in the family since the seventies, and I find it remarkable.
She won’t be happy with me if I find a way to buy it. I know if I ask her, she will not accept my offer, especially right now.
That’s okay. I can wait.
I’m a patient man. When I need to be.
She opens her apartment door and I step inside, pleasantly surprised with how spacious it is. It’s mostly one giant room, a studio apartment which is fine since she’s alone. My eyes land on the bed and the same bedspread that was in the videos lie there.
The same videos that made me come harder than I ever have in my entire life. The videos I’ve watched on repeat.
Over. And over. And over again.
I’ve memorized every single sound she made in those videos and it’s my goal to hear them in reality.
“Make yourself at home,” she says, her voice not polite, but not rude either. She’s still afraid, and if I were her, I would be too.
But I’ll never harm her. She doesn’t need to know that yet or I’ll lose my leverage.
“What were you so happy about?”
She tosses her suitcase on the floor, unzips it with hard, jerky movements that have me hold in a laugh. Jovie is cute when she’s mad.
“What?” She asks, blowing a piece of hair out of her face.
“When I walked in, you were happy. What were you happy about?” I ask, sitting on the edge of the bed to reduce how threatening I must look standing over her.
She lifts her shoulder, shrugging. “It doesn’t matter.” Jovie slides open her chest of drawers, the wood grinding from old age.
The more I study her room, the more I notice how worn her furniture is. Everything is secondhand but I can see the love she has poured into every single piece to make it her own.
And it’s beautiful.
I’ll buy her all-new things, but I have a feeling my girl loves to thrift, and I’ll happily support all of her habits.
“It matters. I want to know.”
She tosses a few shirts in the suitcase and narrows her eyes at me. “It matters? How? You’re kidnapping me to take me to your… what? Manor? Am I even allowed a phone call?”
“Of course. You aren’t a prisoner.” Well… not really.
“Mmm, seems like it,” she sasses with disbelief.
We fall into an uncomfortable silence filled with tension so tight, it just might snap.
“Are these your parents?” I look at the photo next to her bed of two people embracing each other. The image is discolored from age, the left side is burned as if she pulled it from a fire.
She doesn’t answer me. Instead, she snags the picture from her nightstand and tucks it safely into her suitcase, protecting the frame with clothes.
I hide my smile by rolling my lips together. She doesn’t want to be forthcoming with information about herself and I understand why. Whatever relationship we have, it’s been stained with lies and deceit.
From the both of us.
She zips her bag shut. “I’m ready.”
I stand, taking three steps to invade her space. We lock eyes and she leans away from me while I lean in.
I’m so close, I can smell the coffee on her breath and the lingering scent of lilies in her hair. “Let me get that.” I glide my hand over hers to take the bag from her grip.
A buzz of electricity passes between the touch, and she gasps, taking a giant step away from me.
“After you,” I say.
She still doesn’t speak to me.
Jovie turns off all the nights in her apartment and heads down the steps, getting everything in order for the shop to be okay without her for a few days.
Maybe weeks if I’m lucky.
“Can I tell my friend where I’m going? She’s next door,” Jovie finally speaks.
“The one from the restaurant?”
She nods.
“No. You can tell her when you’re at my house. If you tell her now, she will try to stop me, and we don’t want that, Jovie.”
Her eyes round again from the underlying threat that I would hurt her friend. I wouldn’t because Jovie would be hurt. Killing a friend is unforgivable and having her forgiveness means more to me than murdering someone who isn’t a big enough problem.
Opening the front door for her, she breezes by me and I’m a pathetic man for inhaling the air she just walked through.
“Jovie, this is my driver, Sam.”
“Ms. Morgan. It’s a pleasure,” Sam greets, opening the back door for her.
She doesn’t say anything. Jovie looks over her shoulder to give Sam a small, forced smile as she locks the doors to her business.
“I’ll take that, Sir.” Sam places the suitcase in the trunk and Jovie slips into the backseat.
I follow behind and Sam shuts us in before running around to the driver’s side. The partition is up to give us privacy if we wanted to talk. I have a feeling that won’t be a problem considering we aren’t speaking.
I scoot so close enough that our thighs touch, and she moves to the other seat across from the mini bar.
Her tantrum is cute considering she’s the one who caused this problem.
She crosses her arms and looks out the window. Jovie doesn’t look at me once during the drive home. I hide my smile by rubbing a hand over my mouth.
While she has her eyes on anything but me, I can’t take my gaze off her. She’s so fucking beautiful. I want a painting made of her despising me so I can look at it whenever I want. The giant canvas can take over the entire wall. Maybe then, business won’t be so intolerable with certain people.