Chapter 24 Chiara
Chiara
Kane smirks as I saunter in, but I ignore him. Instead, I make a beeline for the plate of chocolate brownies resting on the counter. They’re fresh from the oven and still warm and gooey inside.
The first bite is practically a religious experience, and I’m not ashamed to admit a small moan escapes as the rich, sugary flavor explodes on my tongue.
Both assholes watch me like lions surveying an antelope grazing by a watering hole. After I cram the last bite into my mouth, chew, and swallow, I wipe my hands and focus on them.
“Yes?”
Angelo’s wearing a crisp white shirt and charcoal suit pants.
Small diamond cufflinks sparkle at his wrists.
From the messy state of his hair, he’s been raking it with his fingers all day, and there are dark circles beneath his eyes, one of them bruised.
The man needs to book a vacation. He’s clearly working too hard.
A loving wife would suggest that.
Except…I don’t give a fuck if he drops dead from a stress-related heart attack.
Kane’s dressed in black combats and a tight tee that molds every one of his ten squillion muscles.
He’s taken a position against the wall next to the fireplace.
Stormy gray eyes follow me as I open a cupboard to retrieve a glass before filling it with some chilled water from the dispenser.
I’m tempted to open a bottle of wine, but I’m still buzzing from the spa champagne.
Neither of them says a word. I have no clue what’s going on, but Angelo seems to have forgotten he caught me making out with Luka last night. Or maybe he’s chosen to brush that moment of madness under the proverbial rug.
I’d do the same, only my body still hums with low-key arousal.
“Well if you both want to act like miserable fucking statues, then please excuse me while I go for a nap. It’s exhausting doing nothing all day.”
I snatch a second brownie from the plate and head for the exit before Angelo’s growl stops me in my tracks.
“We need to talk, Chiara.”
“About what?” I smile innocently. “Is this the chat where you accuse me of being a cheating whore and demand a divorce? If so, I’m on board. Bring me the papers, and I’ll sign them right now.”
Kane snorts, but Angelo’s eyes flare with annoyance.
“You’re lucky my brother is still breathing.” His fists clench.
“And you’re lucky I haven’t castrated you in your sleep, so everyone’s a winner.
” This conversation isn’t doing much for me.
The headache that’s been brewing since Vivian showed up like the Grim Reaper has worsened in the last five minutes, and if I don’t take a pill, it will end up becoming a full-blown migraine.
I rub my temples while praying for a stress-related heart attack to strike Angelo in the next five seconds. Only he looks in rude health despite the dark bags under his eyes, so I’m shit out of luck.
“You think you can kill me, cara?” Angelo moves so damn fast I’m caught off guard. He has me pinned against the counter in a heartbeat, but since I still have my glass of water, I lose no time tipping it over his head.
It’s a waste, honestly, but I’m not in the mood for his bullshit.
Water drips down his face, doing nothing to cool his mood.
I can hear Kane laughing from across the room, but Angelo and I remain locked in a stare-off. His hard body presses into mine.
Every. Fucking. Inch.
“If you want to come to my bedroom in the middle of the night,” he purrs. “I’m happy to entertain you.”
It’s suddenly hard to breathe. The water I poured all over Angelo has soaked me too. My shirt sticks to my chest, highlighting my red bra. Angelo looks down. His eyes darken. This is when I should shove him back or knee him in the crotch, but neither of us moves.
The chemistry sizzling between us threatens to explode, burning us both in a raging inferno. It’s a major problem. I shouldn’t find my abusive husband attractive. It must be a trauma response.
“The only reason I’d visit your bedroom at night is to stab you in the dick.”
He smirks. “I guess it’s a large enough target.”
The very hard dick pressing into my belly tells me he’s not lying.
“Really? Feels kind of small to me.”
The bastard grabs my hand and forces it between us, letting me feel exactly how thick and hard he is.
“Does abusing women turn you on?” I ask in a conversational tone. I’m fucking turned on, but I refuse to admit it.
“Fuck,” he snarls, stepping away from me and scrubbing his jaw. I watch, still shaking with adrenaline and lust, as he stalks over to the table and grabs a towel to wipe his face. Kane observes, his face blank, but I don’t miss the way his gaze lingers on my chest.
“Are we done now?” My head throbs and there are spots floating in front of my eyes. I need to lie down in a dark room for an hour.
“Yes. For now.” Like that doesn’t sound at all ominous.
Not wanting to endure any more of his bullshit, I step toward the door.
“Chiara.” My shoulders droop with exhaustion as the pain squeezes my head in a vise. Part of me wants to go to bat again, mostly to wind him up, but I’m all out of fucks to give.
“What?” There’s no fire in my voice now. Just resignation.
“Stay away from Luka.” Annoyance flares once again, obliterating some of my tiredness.
“And if I don’t?”
“Then there will be consequences.”
My bedroom is in darkness when I wake. The pain in my head has gone, replaced by nausea caused by a thoroughly empty stomach. When I check the clock, I realize I’ve slept through dinner and it’s now gone nine o’clock.
Fucking Angelo.
When I said he was lucky I’d not castrated him in his sleep, I wasn’t joking.
Deciding I need to eat something or I won’t be able to sleep another wink, I crawl out of bed and pull a robe on. The house is silent when I reach the bottom of the staircase. Even though it’s not that late, there’s no one around.
It’s dawning on me that my husband spends most of his time elsewhere. He must have a place in the city. Hell, for all I know, he has a mistress stashed away somewhere. A sexy pole dancer or, more likely, a high-society girl, much like the women we saw at the gala.
There’s no way my husband is celibate, even if he expects me to be.
I’m surprised by how much the thought of him fucking another woman irks me, even though I almost fucked Luka last night. And definitely would have if Angelo hadn’t interrupted us.
“Hey, sexy girl.” I yelp in surprise at Luka’s husky voice. He’s leaning against the door that leads into the living room, wearing nothing but a pair of faded jeans.
To my annoyance, my cheeks flush as the memory of our heated encounter hits me hard and fast.
He steps toward me, but I hurry away, heading for the kitchen before I do something dumb and climb that man like a tree. He’s much too attractive for a woman with zero self-control and an overactive libido.
“Are you avoiding me, Chiara?” His amusement warms me from the inside out as he follows me into the kitchen.
“Yes,” I admit. “Angelo said he’d murder you if I didn’t stay away.”
He laughs long and hard. “Of course he did.”
I never expected him to cower in a corner, but his complete dismissal of Angelo’s threat surprises me.
“Aren’t you worried?” I pour some cereal into a bowl and add chocolate milk. It’s unhealthy, but I don’t care. He watches as I pull out a chair and sit with my bowl of e-numbers and begin slurping the goodness down like I haven’t eaten for a month.
“I’m more worried about you,” he says eventually.
I peer up at him through my bangs. “How so? He won’t hurt me.” I could be wrong, but I doubt it.
“Do you have any idea how unhealthy that brand is?” He points an accusatory finger at my bowl. “Pretty sure that shit would outlast a nuclear holocaust.”
“Good to know. At least I won’t starve after the bombs fall.” I grin at him, but it’s only surface level.
Luka tuts before strolling over and dropping onto an adjacent chair. He yanks my seat forward so I’m sitting between his much-longer thighs. It’s a dangerous place to be.
“Your body is your temple, so treat it with respect.” Since I practically lived on dried noodles during my months on the run, I figure it’s a bit late for that.
“I ate an avocado at lunch.”
Luka chuckles. “And did you wash it down with a glass of wine?”
My cheeks heat. “Maybe,” I hedge. Followed by several glasses of champagne at the spa, which is probably why I have a lingering headache. He tuts.
“You’re not looking after yourself.”
I roll my eyes and slurp down the last few mouthfuls of cereal. Luka’s right. I should pay more attention to my health, but it’s hard to care right now. Not when I have so little freedom.
“Dominic makes sure I have healthy meals at least once a day.” The man’s a star. He made a mushroom risotto the other day that could legit have won awards it was so good.
“Yeah. He’s a good man.” Luka pushes my bowl away and draws me closer. He smells of citrus and mint, and his hair is still damp. “Wanna watch a movie?”
“I should get some more sleep,” I say with a yawn.
Luka pouts. “I thought you enjoyed my company.”
Something in his voice signals he’s a little hurt by me not wanting to hang out with him, so without thinking, I reach out and brush a loose lock of hair away from his eyes and smile.
“You know I do. These last few weeks would have been hell without you.” My voice breaks off while I cringe at how entitled that statement is when there are people barely surviving in war zones right now.
“I mean, as hellish as living in a luxury mansion with a well-stocked refrigerator and a swimming pool can be,” I add.
“For the record, I very much enjoy your company too,” Luka says. “But if you need to catch some sleep, I can entertain myself.” There’s a screech as he shoves his chair back. In truth, I’m not that tired after my nap, and something tells me sleep won’t come easily.
“Maybe we can watch another episode of Southern Charmed before I go to bed?”
He laughs triumphantly. “I knew you were hooked!” Grabbing my hand, he tugs me to my feet.
“I’m not hooked,” I lie. “One episode! No more!”
“The lady doth protest too much.” Luka’s fake English accent makes me giggle so hard I end up with hiccups. Before I can extricate myself and go pour a fresh glass of water, Luka threads his fingers through my hair and kisses me.