24. Chloe
Chapter 24
Chloe
A s the days pass and Alexander still doesn’t return, I become increasingly concerned. His one day has now turned into four, and I don’t have a phone, so there’s no way to contact him.
I’ve asked his men for updates, but none of them can give me the answers I’m desperate for. I think Marco’s getting tired of me. Whenever he spots me coming, I barely have to open my mouth before he snaps, “No news.”
I feel like I’m slowly losing my mind, the same way I did when I didn’t know where my father was, or if he was okay.
It’s been years since I’ve had the time to sit down and watch television. I’m not particularly interested—too restless to stay still—but I’ll admit I’ve caught myself flipping through all the news channels. If something has happened, surely they’d report it. My mind keeps going to the worst possible places … especially at night as I lie in his bed alone. The worst part is not knowing.
I make my way into the kitchen. I’ve spent a lot of time in here the past few days. “Can I help you with something, Carmella?” I ask, taking a seat on one of the barstools. She’s currently kneading dough on the countertop .
“Of course, dolcezza ,” she says, smiling. “You can help me roll out the pasta once I’ve finished kneading if you like.”
“Please, I’m bored out of my mind.”
“I’d be happy to put you to work, but I don’t think Mr Mancini would appreciate that.”
Just hearing his name sends those annoying butterflies fluttering in my stomach again. “What are you making? That’s a lot of dough.”
“Ravioli. I usually make a few hundred at a time.”
“I remember doing that with my mum when I was younger. We’d also make big batches of homemade sugo di pomodoro .”
Carmella flicks her head to the side where two large bags of tomatoes sit on the bench. “That is my next job.”
“Oh, can I help with that too? I wish I’d had enough foresight to keep my mum’s old recipe book. It was full of handwritten recipes her mother gave to her.”
By the time we lost the house and nearly everything we owned, my hatred for her had become palpable. I wanted nothing to do with the personal belongings she left behind in her hasty retreat. The only thing I kept were the jewels I found in my drawer—purely for their monetary value. Well, that’s what I’ve always told myself.
“You’re welcome to copy some of my recipes. My mother gave them to me before I left Italy … they are written in Italian, though.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I’d like that.”
“Are you still in contact with your mother?”
“No,” I reply, turning my face away.
I’m elbow-deep in a large pot of boiling tomatoes when I hear it—the unmistakable thrum of a helicopter overhead.
“Alex,” I breathe, setting the spoon down and wiping my hands on my apron before untying it and slipping it over my head.
“Go, dolcezza ,” Carmella laughs, giving my backside a playful slap as I rush past. “I’m sure he’s just as eager to see you as you are him.”
I sprint toward the back of the house, barely avoiding knocking one of the guards over as I fling open the back door. “Sorry!” I squeak, not pausing for a second as I keep moving.
I zip past the pool, manoeuvring between the outdoor furniture as I go. By the time I reach the grassed area, Alexander has already exited the chopper.
His back is to me, and he doesn’t hear me call out his name over the loud noise of the rotors. The sound swallows my voice as I frantically wave my arms in the air, trying to get his attention.
I’m only a few metres from him by the time he turns in my direction. He smiles when he sees me, but that expression fades to concern as he notices the urgency in my approach.
As soon as I’m within reach, I launch myself into his arms. He crushes my body to him for the briefest time before placing me back down on my feet.
“ Bella ,” he says, cupping my jaw in his big, strong hands. A frown now mars his handsome face. “Has something happened?”
I shake my head, unable to find the words. The sight of him overwhelms me so much that tears well up in my eyes before I can stop them.
He’s okay … he’s home .
His brow furrows deeper as his thumbs gently sweep away the few tears that escape. “Why are you crying?” he asks, his voice soft.
I slide my arms around his waist, pressing my face into his chest, as a wave of embarrassment washes over me. I’m not used to showing my emotions so openly.
“ Amore mio ,” he says, wrapping me in his arms and crushing my body to his. “Talk to me, you’re freaking me out.”
I take a deep breath and give myself a moment to pull myself together. “I just missed you,” I mumble into his shirt.
When I feel his chest vibrate with laughter, I pinch his side. “Ouch! What was that for?”
I tilt my face up to meet his. “Don’t laugh at me.”
“I’m not,” he lies, giving me one of his megawatt smiles, so I pinch his side again.
“That one was for not calling and letting me know you were okay.”
He skims his knuckle down the side of my face. “I’m sorry. It’s been a hectic few days. My father wouldn’t let me leave. I was lucky to get out when I did.”
My eyes narrow accusingly. “Did he lock you in your room and install bars on the window?”
He chuckles again. “Point taken. Did you really miss me?”
I lift one shoulder. “Maybe a little.”
He raises an eyebrow. “A little? I missed you more than you’d believe, bella .”
“You did?” I ask as my heart skips a beat.
Without a single word, his hands gently cradle my face, guiding me closer until his lips find mine. The depth of his searing kiss says everything. He responds with actions, not words.
I’m not sure how long we stood there, kissing like a couple of teenagers in front of his men and the pilot, but it felt like forever.
That old saying, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” must be true because being without him for the last three days—and constantly concerned for his safety—made me realise just how much this man means to me. It’s nuts, considering how this thing between us began.
I’m currently tucked safely under his arm as we make our way back up to the house. Alexander leans down, placing a chaste kiss on the side of my head.
“You smell like garlic,” he comments with a grin.
I wince. “I’ve been helping Carmella in the kitchen.”
“You have?” he asks, surprise in his voice. “You can cook?”
“What kind of question is that? I’m three-quarters Italian; of course, I can cook.”
“I just thought with your mum … you know …”
“Abandoning me?”
“Hmm,” he hums, his tone suddenly tense. He’s probably regretting steering the conversation in this direction.
“I was a teenager when she left. I spent a lot of time in the kitchen with her, prior to her leaving.”
“Did you ever hear from her after that?”
“Nope,” I answer, my throat suddenly feeling tight.
“Did you try and find her?”
“My dad did. He said he exhausted every avenue, but had no luck. For years, I used to search for her in the streets, wherever I went … and sometimes, I still catch myself doing it, even now. I don’t know why; it’s obvious she doesn’t care about me. If she did, she wouldn’t have disappeared like that.” I glance up at Alexander and see hi m frowning as he listens. “She didn’t even bother to say goodbye. One minute, she was there, and the next, she was … gone.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, leaning down to kiss the side of my head again.
“Don’t be; it’s not like you had anything to do with it.”
When we reach the house, we slip in through the back door. He moves with quiet certainty, guiding us through the rooms until we reach the foot of the grand staircase.
He lets his arm drop from my shoulder, taking my hand in his. “Where are we going?” I ask, curiosity lacing my voice.
His gaze sharpens, a brow arching as if the question itself is almost an accusation—like I should already know the answer. “Our room,” he replies, his voice low. “It’s been four whole days since I’ve been inside you, Bella .”
I smile for two reasons. I’m just as desperate for him, and he referred to his bedroom as ours.
We make it halfway up the staircase before he pauses, bends slightly at the waist, and hoists me over his shoulder. He places his hand firmly on my backside as he continues his climb, taking the stairs two at a time.
When we reach his room, he kicks the door closed with the back of his foot. I hear the distinctive click of the lock before he turns and slides me down his body.
Once I’m on my feet, he backs me against the door and cages me in with his arms.
“Did you really miss me, amore mio ?” he asks as his eyes scan over my face searching for the truth.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“A lot.”
That makes him smile. “Did you touch yourself while I was gone?”
“No,” I reply quickly. I was too consumed with worry to even think about pleasuring myself.
“Good, because all of your orgasms belong to me now.”
Why do I find his possessiveness so hot? If anyone else dared to say that to me, I’d probably knee them in the balls. “Is that so?”
“Yes. You are mine, Chloe, in every sense of the word. Voglio stare sempre con te ,” he says, his voice full of intensity.
“You want to be with me always?”
“ Si, ossiedi il mio cuore. ”
I own his heart?
Did he just tell me he’s falling in love with me in his own roundabout way?
I reach up and grasp his face in my hands, bringing his lips down to mine.
I care for this man more than it logically makes sense. Who would’ve thought, when I first walked in and found him pointing a gun at my father’s head, that we’d end up here? Certainly not me. It’s crazy and a hell of a lot unhinged, but it’s true. I can’t remember the last time I felt this … happy.
He devours my mouth with a fiery passion that equals my own. It has liquid heat flooding my core. I’ve never craved anything in my life like I do this man.
“Fuck, Chloe,” he murmurs against my mouth. “I need you naked.”
He doesn’t need to ask me twice.
Pulling out of the kiss, he retreats a step and shrugs out of his suit jacket, letting it fall to the floor. I lean down to grasp the hem of my cute sundress and whip it over my head in one fluid motion.
His eyes track down my body. I went for simple cotton underwear today because I had no idea he would be returning home. I would’ve made more of an effort if I knew.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me, amore mio ?”
I could listen to him say ‘my love’ all day long. I’ve never been one to be easily influenced by someone’s words, but there’s something so swoony about the way he says it.
My eyes remain locked with his as I reach behind me and unclasp my bra. The severity of his stare as he watches on burns with the heat of a thousand suns.
The second my bra drops to the floor, he’s on me again. He starts by lifting my arms high above my head, pinning them against the door with one of his large hands. The other dives straight down the front of my underwear.
“Always so wet for me, bella ,” he growls as he circles my clit a few times.
I tilt my head back and whimper as he slides two thick fingers inside me, burying them knuckle deep. I widen my stance and gravitate my body downwards—as much as his hold on my wrists will allow—trying to take as much of him as I can into my body.
“That’s it, dirty girl, fuck my fingers. Yes, just like that,” he breathes as I begin to roll my hips in a circular motion. “Fuck that’s hot.”
It feels so good … so damn good. I’ve missed his touch and the way he owns my body.
He withdraws his fingers and adds a third digit to the mix, slowly pushing them inside me, stretching and filling me in the most delicious way.
I throw my head back and release a long, drawn-out moan as my orgasm takes over, making my body shudder with every intense wave. They keep coming, one after another, until my legs buckle, threatening to give way beneath me .
Alexander doesn’t stop until he’s drained every ounce of pleasure from my body.
When he’s done, he removes his fingers, bringing them towards his face. I give him a lazy smile as he sucks them into his mouth.
“I’ve missed your taste,” he admits as he grasps my hips and turns me until I’m facing the door.
When I hear the clink of his belt, I know what’s coming. He’s still fully dressed, but I find the fact that he’s so eager to be inside me that he doesn’t have time to remove his clothes incredibly sexy.
He uses his knee to part my legs wider as he places his flattened palm against my lower back, lightly bearing down to arch my spine so my backside protrudes outwards.
“I’ve missed your pussy almost as much as I missed you, bella ,” he whispers into the crook of my neck as he slides the crown of his dick inside me.
One of his hands splays out against my abdomen while the other fists in my ponytail, turning my head to the side, giving him access to my lips.
He groans into my mouth as he thrusts himself to the hilt and pauses, giving me time to adjust to the intrusion.
A moment is all I get before he’s drawing back and thrusting right back in. He’ll get no complaints from me.
Prior to him, I’d go months, sometimes longer, without hooking up with someone, and it never bothered me. I was too damn tired the majority of the time to even worry about it, but four days without this man’s touch felt like an eternity.
He drives into me over and over again. Each surge is greater than the last, to the point my feet occasionally leave the ground. My fingernails dig into the wood, trying to find some traction, as his hands move to my hips, keeping me in place. The tips of his fingers dig painfully into my flesh, and I know they’re going to leave marks, but it only heightens my arousal.
“Come for me, Chloe,” he grunts. “I can’t hold on much longer.”
“Don’t stop,” I whimper. “I’m almost there.”
One of his hands moves to the junction of my thighs as he begins to stimulate my clit, helping me get there. The combination is almost too much. My body is overwhelmed by a kaleidoscope of sensations. Pleasure, pain, lust … and, dare I say, love. That realisation hits me like a freight train.
Is it even possible to feel that way about someone you’ve known for only a few weeks?
A love story can unfold when you least expect it—at the most unexpected time, with the most unexpected person. It’s as if the heart just knows, even before the mind catches up.
I tilt my head back, resting it against his shoulder, trying to silence the overthinking. Instead, I let the euphoria of him flood every pore of my being.
“I’m coming, Alex,” I cry out.
“I’m right there with you, cuore mio .”
He lets out an almighty roar that seems to echo off the walls as he seats himself deep inside me, and his body begins to jerk. I’m confident the neighbours even heard that, but I don’t care.