Chapter Fifty Ella
Chapter Fifty
Ella
We stay wrapped around each other, the sun soaking into our skin, the heat between us always simmering beneath the surface.
Tiero’s fingers trace idle, absentminded circles along my back, and for a while, neither of us speaks.
Then, quietly, as if he’s been turning it over in his mind, Tiero asks, “What happened with this Donald guy?”
I blink, surprised he wants to know.
“We were quite close,” I begin, choosing my words carefully. “But all that changed when my parents died in that car crash, about a year and a half into our relationship.”
Even now, saying it out loud tightens something inside me.
“He tried to be there for me,” I continue. “He really did. But I wasn’t in a space to accept his help. I shut down, became a bit of a hermit. I didn’t want comfort or to talk about it. I just… wanted the world to stop.”
The memory of that hollow ache presses against my ribs.
“Our relationship suffered. When he finished uni six months later, he went to America to work for a company his family was associated with. I didn’t even fight him on it.” I let out a quiet breath.
Tiero’s arm tightens around me.
“I know you took losing your parents hard,” he says softly. “I’m sorry you had to suffer through that.”
There’s no pity in his voice. Only understanding.
“What about boyfriend number two?” Tiero asks. “Tell me about him.”
I shift slightly in his arms.
“Well, I met Marco about a year after Don and I broke up. He was… a distraction, if I’m honest. I was still carrying a lot of pain after losing my parents, and Marco was adventurous and fun. He made me laugh. He made everything feel lighter.”
For a while, that was enough.
“He worked in his family’s business. Two years after we started dating, they opened a new subsidiary in London and put him in charge. He wanted me to move with him.” I shrug lightly. “But I didn’t want to leave Dublin. And that was that.”
I leave out the part about the cheating. About how I found out and the humiliation that followed. Some things don’t need to be laid bare in the sun.
“And was he able to please you?”
Of course he goes there.
I laugh softly. “Is sex the only thing on your mind, Signor De Marco?”
“Can you blame me?” His gaze drifts deliberately over my body. “Just look at yourself in this bikini.”
I lean in and kiss him, trying to erase the ghosts of old relationships, to anchor myself firmly in the present. In him.
But he pulls back, his expression intent. “Well? Did he? Please you, I mean?”
There’s that edge again.
“Yeah,” I admit. “We had a good sex life.” I keep my tone neutral, deliberately vague. He doesn’t need details.
His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.
So I soften.
“You, Signor De Marco, are topping everything and everyone,” I say, brushing my fingers along his jaw. “You please me like no man ever has.”
Saying it out loud makes it more real than I’m ready for.
How will anyone ever compare to him?
Have I just ruined myself for ordinary men?
No. I shake the thought away. He may have set the bar high, but that doesn’t mean no one else can reach it.
Tiero’s satisfaction is immediate. He claims my mouth again, his kiss deep and unrestrained.
God, I love making out with this man.
His lips are demanding and warm, drawing me under so completely that the rest of the world fades. My pulse quickens, heat spreading through me in a slow, intoxicating wave.
After a while, Tiero breaks the kiss and swings his legs over the side of the daybed.
“I’m going for a swim. You want to come?”
“Yes, I most certainly do,” I reply sheepishly, fanning myself.
He rolls his eyes, though the corner of his mouth betrays him. “Right. Let me try that again.”
He pauses, studying me as if this requires serious strategy. He taps a finger thoughtfully against his lips.
“Aha.” His eyes gleam. “Beautiful Ella, I’m going for a swim. Would you like to travel with me into the depths of the sea?”
I burst out laughing. “Travel into the depths of the sea? That’s the best you can come up with?”
“Ah,” he says, triumphant. “There’s that word again… come.”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes as he tugs me upright.
“Yes, sir. I would love to travel with you into the depths of the sea,” I say sweetly, leaning closer. “Where you can make me come.”
I wink. “Just bring a condom, Signor De Marco.”
He doesn’t bother replying. He simply scoops me up and strides toward the water, carrying me into the cool turquoise embrace of the Mediterranean, where he fulfills my request in his typical, spectacular fashion.