Chapter 44 #2
“Obviously, I’m the Valentini-whisperer.” I toyed with the fingers I gripped in my hand. “Anyway, I’m glad that he talks to me. He’s very lonely.”
“Aurora visits him whenever she’s in the city, and with her schedule, that’s saying a lot. She never forgets about him.”
“You do too. I’d know. It wasn’t the Dramamine talking when I told you that he’s often tried to set me up with you since your little sojourn in the hospital.”
“I should get him a gift basket then.” He pouted. “Not that you listened.”
“Of course not. I wasn’t interested in a Capo.” I rolled my eyes. “I wanted a finance bro.”
“That’s changed?”
Why did I blush so much around him, dammit?
“I wouldn’t be here if my preference hadn’t shifted.” I yelped then giggled when he smushed me up against his chest. “So, the house?”
“We took it by force.”
I felt my eyes bug out. “What, like it was a castle under siege? Is your life a PS5 game?”
He chuckled at my bewilderment. “Yes. But it’s more like Destiny or Borderlands—”
“What are they?”
“Looter shooter games.”
“Ah.”
The curve of his lips deepened. “We retook our territory and Fieri’s widow signed it over to us after... Well, you don’t need to know what.”
“Ugh, sure I do.”
“We took her hostage. Just for a little while.”
“Jeez!”
“Safer with us than that fucker of an ex, Kitty. That bastard was a rapist fuck. We didn’t hurt her aside from an unexpected house arrest.”
“How does that work with the Office of the City Register?”
“It’s cute that you think that would be an issue for us.” When I made an explosively exasperated noise, he practically chirped, “A lot of the questionable design choices are her fault, not mine. I include the gold toilet in my bathroom.”
Though I burst out laughing, I scoped out the mansion that made a Versace palace look low-key. “You haven’t changed it?”
He hitched a shoulder. “I changed the basement and my room.”
“Into?”
“The basement became my lab and I expanded my quarters.”
He had ‘quarters.’
Brooklyn Downton Abbey, here we come.
I tugged on his hand. “Can I see your lab?”
Sliding his sunglasses into his jacket pocket, he grimaced. “If you wish.”
I could tell he didn’t want to go down there, but I didn’t put it off. I couldn’t. I had to understand what I’d be butting heads with.
The situation was both better and worse than I imagined.
The lab had three people working in it at this time of the night. That meant, I assumed, some kind of a team rotation was in play—on a 24/7 basis? If I hadn’t known he was rich-rich, proof just smacked me right in the face.
His staff nodded at Stan in greeting before going about their tasks. Competently.
I recognized some of the lab work they were undertaking and found a smidgen of comfort in his team consisting of accredited professionals—one check in the + column.
But what went in the - column was the fact that none of them had managed to stop him from testing the drugs on himself.
Or the fact he’d called in his own goddamn overdose.
Still, the setup was impressive.
I had to give him that.
Bigger than the ones I’d used in school, it ran the full length of the house, maybe longer. And the equipment screamed state-of-the-art. Insane for a privately funded lab.
Silence filled the space between us as he led me back to the main vestibule. It couldn’t be helped though—I was speechless.
This was Batman-level weird.
Before the quiet could grow uncomfortable, a man popped up. He hovered by the central staircase, and Stan, upon seeing him, heaved a sigh. “Chad?”
The other guy flicked me an inquisitive look. “Aurora wanted you to know that she and Luc hashed out a meeting. He’ll be by later with a car.”
“Tonight?”
Chad nodded.
Stan hissed under his breath. “Fine.”
That seemed to be the dismissal this Chad guy needed.
He dipped his chin at me, shot me a second glance loaded with his curiosity, then faded into the background.
I got the feeling he’d have made a really good shadow.
“I’m sorry, bedda mia. Leaving you early was not my intention.”
“It’s okay,” I soothed. Sure, I was disappointed, but duty called. There’d be plenty of occasions where work would get in the way for me too.
“Change of plan.” He snagged my hand and guided me over a red carpet worthy of an award ceremony but away from the staircase.
“Where are we going?” I asked around a laugh.
“You’ll see.” His devilish smile suited him. Almost as much as him devouring cupcakes and getting fudge smeared over his lips.
One day, I was going to lick those clean for sure.
Why am I planning a life with him?!
Squirming at the thought, I gasped when he drew me into a large atrium.
At one point, this would have been a ballroom.
There were painted panels—hundreds of them. Gilt cornices and a ceiling complete with murals. Underfoot, vintage parquet flooring spread out in a symmetrical pattern.
The chandeliers, plural, matched his car size-wise, and there were so many French doors that led to balconies, it screamed security nightmare.
The building itself was younger, so I got the feeling the room had been transported from the ‘old country.’ Wherever that might be.
Talk about posturing.
“Are we dancing?” I teased as he tugged me into the middle of the dance floor, squeaking when he twirled me into a pirouette that had me collapsing against his chest.
He slid his hands over my arms, up to my shoulders, and I shivered then moaned as they made a return journey before his fingers tangled with mine.
It was difficult to remember how fast things were spinning—as fast as that pirouette he’d tumbled me into—when this felt so full of promise.
It wasn’t about ignoring red flags at this point. They simply didn’t exist to me. Couldn’t. Not when everything about him supercharged my senses and made me feel revered.
With a smoothness that belied his job description, he urged us into a waltz.
Flinging my head back, I laughed, the sound pealing around us like a song of our own making that began to fade as he stole my laughter and replaced it with an awareness that had my skin prickling in reaction.
When I caught sight of our reflection in the ceiling panels that housed mirrors, I whispered into the silence, “We look hot together.”
The peace zoomed in on the connection that arced between us. A connection that tangled hope with need and sent shivers down my spine.
He half-purred, “We are hot together.”
Those clever fingers of his released mine so they could trickle over my shoulders.
Wherever he touched, heat stirred. The pads of his fingertips seemed to spark with a power I’d never felt before.
One that didn’t stun me, just filled me with a need I’d read about in books but had never experienced for myself.
My breath caught with every stroke, and my heart stuttered as electricity built between us, enough that I figured we could generate our own light—enough to illuminate this behemoth.
“Ah, bedda mia, what you do to me.”
My core clenched at his rumble.
His hands ghosted over my biceps, and I leaned into his touch, needing the connection, the collision.
He didn’t laugh, just sucked in a sharp breath of his own.
When I found myself being guided to one of the French doors, I blinked in surprise. He’d plunked me into a daze, one where only he and I existed, where the world faded into nothing.
I had to assume he had a plan or I’d definitely pout over him breaking whatever magic he’d woven back there.
He unlocked the door by pressing his thumb to an electronic lock.
When I stepped onto the stone balcony, a brisk but balmy breeze had my skirt fluttering, and the scent of honeysuckle perfumed the evening air.
“That’s so beautiful,” I announced as I took in the sight of his gardens.
Below us, a dense copse of woods overshadowed a huge koi pond. A small fountain, well, small for the size of the freakin’ lake up ahead, spouted water into the air at least twenty feet high.
When he stepped behind me, his arms sliding around my waist before settling at the center of my abdomen, I asked, “You really live here?”
“I really do.” He pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “You smell good.”
“It’s soap.”
“No, it’s you.” He inhaled, then sighed like my scent alone made him happy.
“Thank you for showing this to me,” I whispered, not wanting to break the moment. The closeness between us.
It felt like he never wanted to let me go.
And I never wanted him to let go of me either.
My eyes closed when he swayed with me to our silent orchestra.
“Do you know why I did?”
“What? Showed me the lake? Because you think I have a fish fetish?”
Chortling, he drawled, “Do you?”
“Aren’t you lucky that I don’t?”
“Phew.”
I chuckled. “So, go on then. Spill.”
“That night, when we were on the terrace at Martinez’s place… I wanted to sit you on the balustrade and show you that you belonged to me.”
I pressed my forehead to his jaw. “And how were you going to do that?”
His hand, so large in comparison to my own, spread out against the softness of my stomach. The tips of his middle and pointer fingers curved over my pubis, sending striations of heat toward my center.
“No one can see you here.”
“No cameras?”
He grunted. “Maybe cameras.”
“We’ll have to watch the footage together.”
That had him stiffening behind me.
In more ways than one.
A growl escaped him. “Porca troia, Kitty, what you fucking do to me!”
My lips curved, but I remained pliant as he whirled me around and lifted me onto the balustrade with a smoothness that spoke of his control and strength over me.
Every independent bone in my body ceded to his dominance because I felt safe. I felt cherished. I felt seen.
His hands dropped to my ankles, nudging me so he could step between my calves.
I thanked the heavens that I’d chosen the loosely skirted dress because it rippled along my thighs as he moved deeper into me.
When barely an inch separated us, the backdrop of a twilit sky cast shadows over his face that only darkened his expression further.
God, being at the center of his focus had become an addiction.