20. Stella
20
STELLA
L eo drops me in the elevator—or rather, he waits for the doors to trap us inside before letting me fall back to my feet. I have half a mind to take my heel off and stab him in one of his gorgeous eyes, but the elevator starts moving, and I’m catapulted against the far wall.
My hands grapple with the unsteady rail, gripping so tightly that my knuckles blanch a bright white. The car we’re in creaks as tremors rattle it from side to side, and my eyes grow so wide that it feels like they might fall out of my head.
The elevator shifts violently, and I let out an involuntary squeak. Seconds later, Leo wraps himself around me, so the only thing I can see is a sliver of light between his chest and the elevator wall.
“Didn’t realize you’d scare so easily.”
“More than seventeen thousand elevator-related injuries are reported each year in the United States,” I murmur into his shirt, craving his comfort even though I’m so fucking angry with him. “This one doesn’t even sound like it works. When’s the last time it was serviced?”
“That college education is really paying off, huh?”
I clench my jaw and shove at him. “You could’ve just killed me down there.”
He tightens his arms around my waist. “Not trying to kill you, stellina . You’ve got to get this idea out of your head that I’m some monster.”
“Demon,” I mutter. “The Demon of Boston.”
The car rocks, seeming to hit the shaft wall, and my fingers instinctively dig into Leo’s chest when we’re partially thrown off-kilter. He braces a shoulder against the corner of the elevator, staring down at me with an unreadable expression on his face. Then he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
“A demon no longer.” His voice is unspeakably soft. “Not to you anyway.”
My heart hammers against the inside of my rib cage. The same way it did the first time we stood this close.
I kissed him first back then. To gain some semblance of control over everything that was happening. It spiraled quickly, too fast for me to even comprehend, as Leo took charge—the way he seems to prefer things.
Uncertainly, I drop my gaze to his lips. They look as soft as I remember, such a stark contrast to how rigid the rest of him feels. Every night since we married, I lie awake and try to re-create the moment our mouths met for the first time, but I always come up empty.
Depending on where you’re at in the world, a total solar eclipse happens once every 375 years. Kissing Leopoldo De Tore was my solar eclipse, and even standing here with him right in front of me, I’m not sure that initial sensation is possible to recapture.
Not when so much has happened since.
Shaking myself out of the memory, I push out of his grasp, flattening myself against the wall away from him. “Don’t say stuff like that to me.”
“Like what?”
“Like this means something to you. Like… I mean something.” I maintain eye contact with him as the last words leave my mouth even though every atom of my being screams in agonizing protest. Panic sews itself into my DNA, leaving me a quivering mess of emotion, but I force myself to stay in place and not be the one who breaks.
Leo doesn’t move either, save for the muscle above his jaw. It jumps once, then twice, and I wonder briefly how hard he has to refrain from snatching me up again.
It wouldn’t be difficult, if the maze downstairs was any indication. Maybe I should’ve spent less time over the years researching how intravenous vaccines can prevent immunodeficiency viruses or reading about the life histories of soil bacteria in different biomes, and more time preparing myself for a fight.
But you like that he came for you . A tiny voice calls out in the recesses of my mind. You want him to put in the effort. You want him to choose you.
Some part of me has always liked that he seemed to care . Especially when everyone else around me didn’t.
But for seven years, he didn’t care. Not at all.
And I was alone.
The elevator chimes, jerking to a rocky halt, and a second later, the doors slide open. I dart to the exit and cross the threshold quickly, avoiding his gaze and hands when they reach for me again. My chest heaves, each breath evidence of my survival in that death trap.
My relief is short-lived, however, when Leo reaches behind him and slams his fist into the elevator buttons, cracking three and causing the lights to go out.
My shoulders tense, and I back away from him, belatedly noticing the anger radiating off his body in hot waves. He said he didn’t want to kill me, but he clearly has something villainous planned.
But that’s okay. I’m not the same naive girl he married. I won’t be locked away in a tower and left to rot. If he wants something from me, he’s going to have to give me what I desire first.
The three exterior walls around us are entirely made of glass. The building we’re in is tall, displaying gorgeous panoramic views of the estate where the Black Rose Auction is being held. Outside, dark clouds hang low in the sky, setting pretty grays against the rising moon. Up here, it’s almost possible to imagine I’m someplace else.
Across the room, a four-poster canopy bed is pushed into a corner. Candles line the white dresser and the nightstand, casting a soft glow against the satin sheets and fluffy pillows. Red rose petals line the white comforter and lead a trail from the bed to the elevator.
My stomach drops as I take it all in.
“Leo…” I don’t dare turn around and look at him.
“Yes, wife?”
A teapot screeches between my ears. “What is this? What are you doing?”
“I told you.”
His footsteps vibrate on the floor as he comes closer. He swarms me like an army of wasps, shoving me forward until I’m trapped against the glass wall, where a small balcony outside overlooks the in-ground pool across from the conservatory.
Leo takes both my hands in his gloved ones, splaying them out so my fingers make webs against the window. The glass is cool on my palms, compared to the heat coursing through the rest of me.
It’s always been like this with him, as much as I hate to admit it.
“I didn’t come here to watch you sell yourself to someone else,” he mutters, lacing his fingers over mine. “If you hadn’t done that, maybe I would’ve played nice.”
Snorting, I ignore the way his words make my abs tense. “You don’t like nice. Especially not with me.”
“You pretend I’ve been cruel because it’s easier to hate me that way.” He nuzzles my neck. “But what have I done that was so terrible? When I gave you an escape from your shitty father? Maybe when I didn’t have you executed for that goddamn razor blade you were smuggling? Or perhaps when I respected your wishes for boundaries?—”
A sound that is half laugh, half disbelief comes from my throat.
“I never forced you to do anything. I made it clear that it was all up to you.”
And you rejected me. I don’t say that out loud, though, seeing as I can’t let him know it affected me so deeply. I won’t let him know that.
“Ooh, the bare minimum. You realize that doesn’t really matter in the long run when you’re standing here, forcing me to do whatever you want now?”
He remains quiet for several moments, his body barely relaxing against mine.
Then, as suddenly as he stopped speaking, I feel his lips against my ear, his nose in my hair. He shifts, pressing his pelvis just so , and mine has nowhere to go except flush with the wall. I swallow, my pulse throbbing in my neck and between my thighs.
“Tell me you want me to stop then.” He squeezes the tops of my hands. “Say you wish for me to bring you back to the party and give you over to the sack of shit who bought you tonight.”
He rips himself away, but only long enough to spin me around. I don’t have time to blink before I’m facing him and he’s pinning me against the wall again, his forearms bracketing me in.
Minty, slightly whiskey-laden breath fans my face as he leans down. “Tell me you haven’t thought about this moment every day since I turned you away seven years ago.”
“I haven’t.” My head lifts in defiance. “You don’t cross my mind—ever.”
“ Sei solo una bugiarda del cazzo .” After a pause, he reaches up with one hand, capturing my chin in two fingers. “Such a dirty fucking liar. You know, you’re practically in a wedding dress right now. Granted, this one is much nicer on the eyes than the gown you married me in, so why don’t we re-create the night we could’ve had?”
Molten desire liquifies inside my chest at the request, despite my reservations. It’s impossible to ignore the feral desperation in his voice or the way his eyes glaze over the longer he looks at me.
“We can’t do this,” I breathe, holding on to the vestiges of my resistance. “Someone else paid for my time. After you fucked with me getting the orchid, it’s only fair that I return the favor. So let me fulfill my auction duties.”
“And if I don’t?” His brows arch. “If I keep you locked in this tower until you’ve lost the will to spite me? What then?”
My nostrils flare. “They’ll fine me for not appearing before the winner.”
“Let them. I have enough money to cover it.”
When he crashes his lips to mine, my mouth is partially open, ready to deliver a fiery retort. Instead, I catch him on my teeth, and he jerks my head forward to fuse our faces together properly. He shoves his tongue in, sweeping deep enough to lave over my molars, and I can’t stop the tiny groan that rumbles in my chest at his utter abandon.
His hand leaves my chin to cup the back of my head. The padding of his glove is a nice shift from the unforgiving wall behind me, yet at odds with the brutality of his kiss. It sucks the protest out of me, like a vacuum leaving no crumbs behind.
Plastering himself to the length of my body, he wedges a meaty thigh between my legs. His knee angles up, and I lose my breath for a brief moment when he makes contact with my clit. My palms find his chest, my fingers gripping his lapels as he moves against me, his rough nature making me dizzy.
One hand falls to my hip. Slowly, Leo bunches the lace fabric in his fist, keeping his eyes on mine, as if challenging me to put an end to this.
Right now, every card is in his repertoire. Just like when I was forced to marry him in the first place. Any feelings or sensations were overshadowed by that fact, and it’s never fully felt like I’ve gotten a say in our interactions.
My desire was overshadowed by duty , but it was still there.
It’s official, whether you kiss me or not. Might as well pretend you had some say in the matter.
His words from that night echo like church bells in the back of my mind, and I blink up at him several times, trying to see through the haze of anger, lust, and resentment. Staring back at me is the beautiful, brutal man I’ve spent the last seven years thinking about—and something feels different.
The rejection from before feels eons away, as if it happened to someone in another universe. The Leo pressing against me now wouldn’t dare repeat that mistake, and that undoes something profound within me.
I grew up priding myself on my intelligence and not caring when people weren’t interested in me because I wasn’t as exciting as my sisters. In a world where free thought and quiet tenacity were interpreted poorly, I thought disinterest was a good thing.
It kept me safe for a while.
I never realized how much it would hurt to find someone who seemed curious, even intrigued, and then to have that ripped away by indifference.
So, again, just like I did seven years ago when we stood in a similar state of limbo, I wrangle my arms out from his hold and reach for the hem of my dress. It’s barely enough to constitute an actual outfit anyway, and I would be embarrassed about everyone who saw me in it tonight if not for the way their heated stares spurred me on.
I watch the tendons in his neck shift beneath his skin as I start dragging the skirt up. His knee is still wedged against my pussy, providing effortless friction where my pulse skyrockets with each exposed inch of skin.
My throat constricts when the fabric rises past my hips, then my belly button. Leo’s eyes seem to darken as more and more of my body is displayed.
“Where did you even get this outfit?” he breathes, enraptured. “The one you wore last night was devastating, but this is… You look…”
“My roommate packed it. In case of…emergency, I guess.”
“Remind me to ask what she planned for you to be doing at this auction when we meet.”
Heat flares across my cheeks when the edge of the fabric reveals the undersides of my breasts. They feel heavy as his gaze dips just long enough for a single inhale, and then they’re bare. I’m bare as I rip the dress off the rest of the way, impatience and adrenaline barreling through me like a rocket.
I drop the dress to the floor, standing before him in just my nude thong and heels.
Discomfort twists in my gut, but it’s not the bad kind.
It’s the kind that pushes you to do bad things. Things you’ll undoubtedly regret in the morning.
But right now, I don’t care.
“This is what you want?” I ask, dropping my voice to an octave I’ve never heard come out of me before. I move my hips, writhing slowly against his knee, and my body jolts with the hypnotic sensation the movement creates. “Our wedding night done right?”
I don’t fully expect him to answer, but after a moment, he nods.
“You’ll help me get the flower if I do this for you?”
His stormy eyes narrow slightly. “Talk about cruelty.”
“That’s my condition. Me for the flower. Take it or leave it.”
It takes several more seconds. Eventually, he relents with a dip of his chin.
This is all I have in my arsenal. I might not be experienced, but I’m not sure it’ll matter one way or the other to this man. I slide my hands up his chest and lock them around his neck before yanking him down to me.
It’s a better plan than nothing at all.