The Deal

31. Chloe

Chapter 31

Chloe

A lexander’s words hung over me like a dark cloud all night, heavy and impossible to shake. Have I been so consumed by hurt and hate that I failed to see the truth? I think that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. It’s a sobering thought.

I gently wrap my fingers around his hand, carefully lifting his arm that’s draped around my waist, trying my best not to wake him.

Once I’m free from his hold, I slide to the edge of the bed, preparing to slip away. But as I go to sit up, his arm shoots out, capturing me.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks in that gravelly voice I’m still trying hard not to like.

My body is half-elevated as I glance at him over my shoulder. His eyes are still closed, and goddamn it, I despise how much his good looks affect me.

“Relax, I was only going downstairs to see if my mother needed some help with breakfast.”

This has one of his eyes springing open. “You were?”

“Yes. Your words yesterday hit home. I’m trying to extend the olive branch, you could say. ”

“I’m pleased to hear that. Do I get an olive branch as well?”

“Don’t push it, Mancini. I’m still mad at you,” I reply, but when he smiles in return, I feel myself doing the same.

Before I even realise it, he somehow manages to tug me back down onto the mattress, where his body proceeds to move over mine, trapping me beneath him. “I know deep down you still love me, bella .”

He’s right, I do, but the pain from his betrayal still lingers, and I’m not ready to forgive him for that—not just yet.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you,” he says quietly. “But please know my intentions were pure. I had an endgame, I just hadn’t figured out how to pull it off. As it turns out, it worked itself out in the end.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t get me wrong, it always began and ended with me keeping you. You were the easy part of the equation … your parents, though, that was a whole other story.”

“I still don’t quite get what you are trying to say.”

“The first day I came to your house, I was only trying to figure you out and see if there was a way I could insert myself into your life. But when I saw your dad and realised you were the daughter of Theodore and Angelina, my whole plan shifted.”

“How did it shift?” I ask, perplexed.

“Papa was a proud man, and no amount of pleading would make him undo the deal he’d struck. But I had every intention of reuniting your family one day … somehow.”

“You planned to get my family back together?”

“Yes, and if you have any doubts about what I just told you, I swear on my son’s life that every word is true.”

My eyes search his face, looking for any sign of hesitation as I let his words sink in. But I don’t need to. I know he wouldn’t swear on his son’s life lightly. That little boy means the world to him.

“Now that I’ve finally gotten that off my chest,” he adds, “here’s what’s going to happen. I’m giving you forty-eight hours—and not a second more—to digest everything I just told you.”

My eyes narrow. “And what happens once we hit the forty-eight-hour mark?”

“You forgive me and start openly loving me again, warts and all—none of this internal loving bullshit—because I fucking miss you, bella .”

Oh, my heart.

“Okay,” I say, and the way his eyebrows jump at my response, I can tell he wasn’t expecting me to give in so easily, but I’m tired of fighting.

“Okay? That’s it, that’s all I’m getting? No lip?”

I grasp his face and tug his mouth down to mine. If he wants lip, he’ll get it, but not the type he was expecting.

Clarity is a beautiful thing. It’s that moment when everything falls into place, and you see things for what they truly are without even having to open your eyes. It strips away the confusion, eliminates your options, and brings you in line with your true values.

Letting go of the past is the only way to move forward, so that’s exactly what I’ve done. I’m purging my soul and clearing out the clutter that’s been blocking my peace of mind for as long as I can remember. And I feel lighter than I have in years.

Alexander has stayed true to his word, giving me the space I need—within reason. I receive multiple texts throughout the day and night, always with the same word: Ticktock.

My time is drawing near, and though he’s gone most of the day, doing whatever it is he does, when he’s home, he maintains his distance. But the molten heat in his eyes whenever our gazes meet cuts through the space between us, hitting me right in the core.

I find myself constantly checking the clock, counting down the minutes and the hours until he’s mine again.

Sweet Giovanni is still stuck to me like glue, which I don’t mind in the slightest; I adore that little boy. I’m going to miss him like you wouldn’t believe when that bitch gets back from her extended vacation in Italy to collect him. But I try not to think about that too much. I don’t want to put a dampener on the limited time we have left together.

We no longer spend the majority of the day hanging out in my room. Instead, we spend most of our time downstairs in the kitchen, helping my mother prepare the meals while I try to make up for all the time we’ve lost.

Each morning, she visits with my father, and she’s asked me to join her numerous times, but so far, I’ve chosen not to. They need their time together, and I’m still working through my feelings about my dad.

Now that I can see things clearly, I’ve stopped feeling sorry for him and realised he’s just getting what he deserves. His karma, you could say. You reap what you sow, and I, unfortunately, was the catalyst for his downfall.

In a way, I unknowingly enabled his bad behaviour. I saw only the brokenhearted man who kept making silly mistakes, not the calculated one who was actually responsible for the entire mess. He made a conscious decision to take that money, and from what I’ve learnt he was doing it for some time.

When my phone dings, I slide it out of my pocket and find myself smiling down at the screen when I see another text has come through from Alexander. I’m expecting the usual two words, but that’s not what I find when I open it.

It’s a photo showing something cream scrunched up in his hand. It looks like lace. I use my fingers and thumb to expand the image, trying to figure out what he’s holding.

Alexander: Recognise these?

I study the picture but get distracted by his hands rather than concentrating on what he’s holding.

They're so … sexy.

His fingers are thick and long. The skin is smooth, with veins subtly tracing their way up to his wrist, hinting at the strength that lies beneath the surface.

I’ve never taken notice of people’s hands in the past, but there's something about his that garners my attention. I find myself observing them often, especially when he eats.

I don’t know what it is, but the power of his grip and the silver that gleams under the soft light contrast against the warmth of his tanned skin. The way his thumb rests just below the curve of the handle, steady and confident, while his fingers curl around it with a subtle, purposeful pressure. Or the elegant way his wrist moves, with the calm precision of a man who’s comfortable in his own skin.

This may sound unhinged, but there is something completely erotic about his hands. It has moisture flooding my underwear more often than not.

Is it a sick depravity? Or is it just that my body knows exactly what those hands feel like against my skin, or the ultimate pleasure his fingers can bring when they are buried deep inside me? It’s a quandary I’m yet to work out, but the obsession is real.

Alexander: Do you want a clue?

Alexander: You were wearing these when we went to Antonio’s kid’s birthday.

Me: OMG! #Cakegate. I never did get around to baking Antonio his apology cake.

Alexander: Forget the fucking cake!!!!

Me: I can’t. I’m going to make him one now. Can you get him to call by later and pick it up?

Alexander: I’m sitting here holding the lace underwear you were wearing that night—that still smells like you, by the way—with a raging fucking hard-on, and all you can think about is cake.

Me: You know how much I love cake … and you smelt my underwear?

Alexander: You better believe I did. And do I get a cake too?

Me: No!

Alexander: If Antonio gets cake, Chloe, I get some damn cake too!

Me: Sounds like someone is chucking a tantrum.

Alexander: I am not chucking a tantrum, but I better get a fucking cake!

Me: Did you just stamp your foot when you wrote that last part? I have a feeling you did.

Alexander: Just make me a fucking cake, woman, and save some of the frosting so I can smear it on your delectable body and lick it off.

Me: Hmm. Sounds fun. You should’ve just led with that. I have a feeling someone is going to get more than cake when he gets home.

Alexander: You better believe I am, amore mio. Tick-fucking-tock!

“Who has put that beautiful smile on my little girl’s face?” my mother asks as I slide my phone back into the back pocket of my denim skirt.

“Nobody,” I lie.

“My guess would be Alexander. I saw the way he was looking at you during breakfast. It seemed like he wanted to eat more than what was on his plate.”

“Oh, my God,” I squeak, covering Giovanni’s ears as heat climbs up my neck.

It has been thirteen years since I last had a relationship with my mother, but I never expected that to come out of her mouth.

She lifts one shoulder and grins. “Just calling it like I see it, dolcezza .”

I remove my hands from Giovanni’s ears, giving my mother a knowing look in the process.

When I turn my attention back to him, I ask, “Would you like to help me make a cake for Antonio?”

“Hell yes!” he yells, punching the air with excitement.

“Giovanni,” my mother scolds, her tone sharp. “That is no way for a bambino to talk. It sounds like Miss Pottymouth has struck again.”

“Everyone keeps talking about that lady, but I don’t know who she is.” His confused expression shifts toward me. “Have I ever met her, Chlo?”

I respond with a firm “No!” at the same time, my mother says, “Yes.”

We both freeze for a moment, then burst out laughing. I can’t help but think the adult me kind of likes this version of my mother.

I’ve realised that beneath all the anger I once felt, there was just a scared little girl who was missing her mummy.

I’ve missed her so much.

“There’s only one cake,” Alexander says as he waltzes into the kitchen with Antonio in tow.

“Well, there’s only one Antonio,” I retort, biting my bottom lip in an attempt to suppress my smile. “How many cakes does one man need?”

I’m totally messing with him. We made two cakes but put the other one in the fridge for us to have for dessert tonight.

“One,” Alexander barks. “A man needs one fucking cake, Chloe, but apparently, that’s a little too much to ask for.”

When Antonio throws back his head and laughs, I have to turn away. “Sounds like someone is a little salty,” he says.

Alexander steps towards the counter and picks up the cake box, handing it to his friend. “There’s your cake now fuck off.”

Antonio looks at me and winks before saying, “Rude much!”

“My patience is running thin,” he retorts. “And my balls are as blue as cousin Vinny’s shirt. ”

Antonio side-eyes me with a grin before replying, “Again?”

I’m not sure who cousin Vinny is, but I do elaborate by adding, “He’s been in timeout.”

“Oh, dear sweet Chloe,” Antonio replies, “I swear I could sit here and watch you bust his balls all day long. It makes my day every fucking time.”

“Is that so,” Alexander growls. “Looks like someone will be job hunting tomorrow.”

“Relax,” I chime in. “There is another cake in the fridge.”

“There is?” Alexander asks, walking over to the fridge to double-check that I’m not lying. “Thank you, amore mio .”

When he comes back to us, he slides his arm around my waist and tugs me to him, placing his lips on mine.

“I think that’s my cue to leave. See you tomorrow, boss man.”

“Tomorrow? I just fired you, remember?”

Antonio dismisses that comment with a flick of his wrist and a “Pfft. Thank you for the cake, Chloe.”

“You’re welcome, and I’m really sorry about #Cakegate,” I tell him.

“My mother-in-law is still going on about that, she’s such a crabby old hag.”

“I’ll make sure to tell her that’s what you think of her next time I see her,” Alexander threatens.

That has all the colour draining from Antonio’s face. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Alexander arches a brow. “Wouldn’t I?”

Alexander watches Giovanni finish his second piece of cake. The moment the last bite enters his mouth, he swoops, scooping up the plate.

“Okay, buddy, it’s time for bed now. Go upstairs and brush your teeth.”

Giovanni furrows his brow, glancing out the window. “It’s still light out … it’s too early to go to bed.”

I press my hand to my mouth to hide the grin spreading across my face. This kid’s sharp; there’s no getting anything past him.

“It’s bedtime,” Alexander grumbles. “Maybe the sun just forgot it was time to sleep.”

“The sun doesn’t have eyes, Dad. How can it sleep if it can’t close its eyes?”

Alexander shoots him a look. “Have you ever met the sun?”

“No.”

“Well then, how can you be so sure it doesn’t have eyes?”

This conversation is spiralling into absurdity, so I decide to step in.

Crouching down in front of Giovanni, I gently take his hand. “Remember how I told you we’re going to church tomorrow to support your dad at his father’s funeral?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s going to be a hard day for him,” I continue, my voice softening. “So we need to make sure we get lots of rest tonight so we have the energy to help him get through it.”

Giovanni nods slowly, absorbing the seriousness of it all. “Okay.” He slides off his chair, his expression thoughtful. “Can you read to me once Dad tucks me in?”

“Of course, sweetie pie. I’ll just clear the dishes, and then I’ll come up,” I say, watching Giovanni shuffle out of the room.

As I start clearing the plates, I glance at Alexander and flash him a smug look. But when he meets my gaze, his smile is full of quiet affection and something else. It hits me like a tidal wave, and my heart skips a beat. The room feels small, and the air too thick—it has me weak at the knees.

When I make it to the top of the stairs, I’m suddenly grabbed and pushed up against the wall. Warm lips are pressed against mine before I even register what is happening, but I’d know that mouth anywhere.

My hands glide up his chest, then wrap around his neck as my fingers weave through the short strands of his hair.

He kisses me with hunger as if starved for more, and by the time he draws back, I’m left breathless and craving more.

“Giovanni’s tucked in, and I’ve chosen the shortest book he owns. Read fast, amore mio . I’ll be waiting for you in my room.” His hand moves down to cup my arse cheek, giving it a firm squeeze, making his intentions clear. “I’m aching for you, bella .”

I swallow thickly as my gaze locks with his. His eyes burn with a raw, consuming intensity, a fire that flickers with both longing and control.

He gives my arse one more squeeze before he steps back, turns, and heads towards his room.

Pausing at the doorway, he glances down the hallway where I’m still standing. With a raised eyebrow, he smirks and says, “Ticktock,” before disappearing inside.

Minutes later, I slip into his bedroom and lock the door behind me. I fold my arms behind my back and lean up against the wood when I find Alexander on the bed waiting. He’s propped up on one elbow and completely naked.

He’s a man who’s comfortable in his own skin, with good reason.

My tongue skims along my bottom lip as my eyes move down his chiselled and sculpted torso. He’s a work of art, muscles carved with precision. That rosary bead tattoo that snakes down his torso whispers holiness, but I know better. He’s pure sin, wrapped in temptation and rebellion.

He gestures with his finger for me to come closer as he rolls onto his back and grasps hold of that long, thick, erect penis of his, slowly stroking it from root to tip. It’s a sight that has my mouth watering.

“Ticktock, Chloe.”

“Technically, I still have twelve of my forty-eight-hour time limit left.”

“Semantics, cuore mio , now get that sweet arse over here and wrap those pretty lips of yours around my dick.”

My eyes slightly widen at the audacity of his command. I’m the one mad at him, so I’m not sure why he thinks he’s the one who should be getting the reward.

My body pushes off the door, taking a step in his direction. My dirty inner hoe obviously didn’t get the memo.

“Keep coming.”

I slowly take another step.

He raises an eyebrow, the challenge clear in his gaze, silently daring me to continue with my hesitation. “And you’re wearing too many clothes.”

I lift my chin in defiance—because it’s a natural instinct—but still reach for the hem of my shirt, lifting it over my head and dropping it to the floor to reveal the cute pink lace bra I’m wearing.

His eyes remain locked with mine as I pop the button on my skirt and drag down the zip. When I let go of the fabric, it slides down my legs, pooling around my ankle.

“Cotton,” he whispers as he takes in my white underwear that has tiny pink hearts scattered all over it.

I lift one shoulder. “They’re comfortable.”

“I love them, but they have got to go, amore mio bellissimo . ”

I internally swoon at the way he says, ‘ My beautiful love’.

My hands reach around behind me as I unclasp my bra and slowly slide each strap down my arm until it joins the rest of my clothes on the floor.

The intensity of his stare as he continues to stroke himself in a steady, meticulous rhythm has me throbbing between the legs.

I hook my thumbs into the sides of my underwear and wiggle my hips as I take my time dragging them down my legs. Not just this moment, but the past thirty-six hours, have only heightened the anticipation of what’s to come, making it feel even more palpable. I’ve missed this man and the way he brings my body to life.

Once I’m completely free of my clothes, I continue moving toward the bed. When I get to the base, Alexander bends his legs slightly at the knee and spreads them so I can climb in between them.

I take my time crawling along the mattress until I reach my goal, but instead of placing my lips around his engorged cock, I lean down and suck one of his heavy balls into my mouth.

“Fuck, Chloe,” he groans as I move to the other one, gently rolling it between my lips. My flattened tongue then tracks a path from the base of his penis all the way to the crown as I swirl it around the head.

When I slide him into my mouth and relax my throat so I can take him in deep, he bucks his hips as he pushes his head back into the pillow and mumbles a slew of profanities in Italian.

I work him over with my lips, tongue, and teeth, holding nothing back. To the point where I gag, and tears stream down my face, but I can tell he’s enjoying this, so I have no plans of stopping until he’s coming down the back of my throat.

I can guarantee that I’m not the first woman to go down on him, but hopefully, I’ll be the last.

His movements quicken, and I feel him pulsing against my tongue. He suddenly fists my hair in his hand, gently dragging my head back until I’ve released him from my mouth.

“I wasn’t finished,” I say with a pout.

“Come up here and sit on my cock, bella. Voglio riempire il tuo corpo con tutti i miei bambini .”

He wants to fill my body with all his babies?

I’m not sure how to process his admission. So much has happened in the short time we’ve been together, and while I can’t help but want a future with this man, I’m nowhere near ready for such a huge commitment.

Thankfully, I’m still on birth control, so at least for now, it’s not something I need to worry about.

I remain frozen, glancing at him with wide, shocked eyes. He frowns as he moves his hands under my arms, swiftly dragging me up and along his body until our faces are mere inches apart.

“You are going to have my babies one day, Chloe,” he demands, bringing his flattened palm down hard on my arse. “Now be a good girl, spread those long legs of yours and ride my cock.”

“I’ll have your babies, if and when I decide to, Mancini.”

He gives me one of his devastating, full, toothy smiles as if to humour me as I push myself onto my knees and straddle his lap.

He reaches for his dick again while his free hand moves between my legs to prepare me for him. There’s no need; I’m already hot for this man .

He replaces his fingers with his dick, moving back and forth through my arousal. “Sink down onto me, bella .”

Raw, unadulterated pleasure coils itself throughout my body as I take the crown of his dick inside me. I am more than ready for the release this is going to bring.

His hands move up to seize my hips when I pause, dragging me all the way down until he’s fully sated inside me. I’m so stretched, so full, and I take a moment to relish in the pleasure that’s all him.

Our eyes are locked, and we moan in unison when I place my hands on his chest and begin to move.

“Do you know what this means?” he asks. I give him a perplexed look. “It means this standoff between us is over. I have no more secrets that will hurt you, amore mio . You are mine again … for keeps this time.”