Chapter Fifty-Two
Gualtiero
Ella is sleeping beside me, peaceful and serene.
I brush a strand of golden hair from her face, taking in the smoothness of her skin. Beneath the light of the stars and moon, she looks almost ethereal.
She is the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on.
I am a fortunate man.
She insisted on sleeping under the stars. Since all the daybeds sit beneath a gazebo roof, she made me drag the mattress and cushions onto the sand.
Now we lie surrounded by the best nature has to offer. I stare up at the sky, content in a way I have not felt in years.
I haven’t done this since I was a boy. Such a simple thing. And yet it settles something inside me. That is her doing.
She is good for me.
The Milky Way stretches clear above us. It reminds me how small I am in the larger scheme of things. Up there, my problems do not matter. So why do they feel so significant here?
The waves roll gently onto the shore. Somewhere in the small forest at the center of our island, a nocturnal animal screeches, briefly disturbing the quiet.
Our island?
When did I begin to think of it as ours?
But it’s not really surprising. All my planning is with her in mind now.
How can she believe this is a mere fling?
She feels our connection as much as I do. Of that, I’m certain.
The salt air fills my lungs, but it is her scent that settles into my bloodstream. Sleep is an impossibility when she’s near. Food no longer satisfies me. I hunger only for her.
Ella’s rhythmic breathing close to my ear brings a peace I never want to let go of. I pull her tighter to me, and she snuggles closer, a smile on her beautiful face.
She’s safe here with me. I wish we could stay forever, isolated from the rest of the world.
But that is a fantasy. I have an empire to run. Decisions to make. A life that does not pause simply because I have found something worth pausing for.
Her fingers curl into me even in sleep.
The memory of how those same hands clutched at my shoulders earlier makes my arousal stir anew.
I brush a kiss over her temple and let my mind drift back to the hours before she surrendered to exhaustion.
We talked endlessly in between rounds of me taking her. I have never had that before. The conversations, the laughter, the ease. With anyone else, it would have felt hollow.
With Ella, it feels inevitable.
I want to know everything about her. Every thought. Every ambition. Every fear she tries to hide behind that brave smile.
And the sex.
It is as if her body was designed to answer mine. To yield and push back. And to demand more. I am not always gentle. I don’t have to be. She meets me with the same hunger, her body responding without hesitation.
She gives herself fully.
Which is why hearing about the men who had her before me unsettled something deeper.
I knew the outlines from Santino. Facts. Dates. Outcomes. But hearing her voice wrap around their names awakened something colder.
They touched what’s mine. Hurt what’s mine.
That will not go unanswered.
Donald Ryan. Marco Gommery.
Fools.
How does a man walk away from a woman like Ella? Especially when she is at her lowest? When her parents have just died and she needed steadiness, not abandonment?
Ryan is married now. To the heiress of the company his parents conveniently positioned him within. Engaged three months after leaving Ella.
Convenient timing.
It is still betrayal in my eyes. He will pay for it. Distance is irrelevant. America is not beyond my reach.
And Gommery?
He will learn what it costs to mishandle something rare.
They will never trace it back to me. They will simply experience a slow erosion. Business. Reputation. Stability.
Consequences.
Ella will know nothing of it. She has no appetite for revenge. She does not need to. That is my role.
She is light.
I am not.
I do not deserve her. But I will not let her go. I’ve been waiting for her all my life.
I recognized her the moment I saw her. Some truths do not require time. They simply are.
My gaze drifts down her naked body. Moonlight washes over her skin, turning it luminous, beckoning me to touch.
Desire stirs my cock. I want her again. To feel her wrap around me. To sink deep and claim what is already mine.
The urge to feel her raw, with nothing in between us, surges through me again. Just skin and heat and the slow surrender of her body beneath mine.
My hand moves over her, unhurried. Along the curve of her shoulder, the swell of her breast, the dip of her waist, the soft line of her hip. She is warm. Responsive even in sleep.
She sighs and shifts closer, instinctively seeking me.
Every instinct in me sharpens. I could wake her. She would not resist. She would open for me.
But I still myself.
Control is strength.
For now, I let her rest.
I need to think some more.
What comes next will require decisions.