Chapter 16 Francesca
Francesca
The building where Carlo lives on the Upper West Side is owned by the Trio, and everyone living in it is connected somehow.
The driver spoke five words to me at most on the way here.
The doorman tips his cap and opens the door without asking a single question.
The concierge makes a phone call when he sees me as the grandfather clock in the glitzy lobby strikes midnight.
I’m shown into a private elevator. It zips up the shaft toward the penthouse, and my belly flips over.
This is it, time to take control and make a deal with the devil.
The mirrored doors of the elevator open. My heels click-clack across the marble floor. At the point where the foyer transitions into an open living area with a large loft above, a gold seal bearing the fearsome three-headed wolf of the Trio has been inlaid into the marble. “Subtle,” I scoff.
“It isn’t,” a male voice says from above - Carlo. “It’s a reminder to any sheep who visit.”
“A reminder of what?”
“That a wolf dwells here,” he answers, wearing the most brutally sexy grin as he walks down the floating staircase toward me.
“None of us sheep can forget that. Baaaaa.”
He chuckles as he comes to a halt a couple of feet away. His dress shirt is unbuttoned enough for me to see the Trio tattoo on his throat along with a tantalizing sliver of his tanned chest. I’ve never seen him without a tie. Tonight, I may see all of him. My face grows hot at the thought.
“As requested, we are alone, and I’m curious about your proposal.”
“All this space is yours?” I ask, nervously stalling.
“Yes. My brother Luca lives in the apartment below, but he would be the last person to disturb us. Would you like a tour?”
He’s noticed me gawking at the lighted terrace outside through the wall of glass. I would, I realize. I’d like to see his home and have him show it to me. That’s not why you came here.
“How many of the girls the paparazzi photographed you with the past few years has that concierge sent up the elevator?”
“None." My eyes widen incredulously. "They were outsiders,” he emphasizes. “You’ve been keeping tabs on my dating habits, I see.”
I scowl, hating that he’s right. “It was hard to avoid. Poor Sofia invented so many excuses to explain away your manwhore ways.”
His jaw clenches, and I have to remind myself I’m here to seduce him, not fight. “That’s the past, Francesca. I’m more interested in our future. Not counting my housekeeper, my mother and sisters are the only females who’ve ever been here… until you.”
“Does your female housekeeper ever stay over?”
"No, Dinora doesn't stay over," he answers, smirking. I sounded jealous, dammit.
“May we sit?” I nod toward the half-circle sofa.
“Of course.”
Once we’re seated, my heart speeds up when his warm thigh brushes against mine. What am I doing trying to pretend I’m a seductress? He’s a player, and I’ve never even been kissed.
“You are nervous,” he murmurs. Lying is pointless. I nod and his hand rises slowly toward my face. “I would like to know why you came and what’s making you so nervous, Francesca.” His deep voice sends a wave of longing through me as he softly strokes my cheek. It feels good. It feels too good.
“Marrying would be a mistake. I don’t want you, and you’ll change your mind about wanting me once your lust is sated.”
“You think lust guides me to make marriage proposals? Other ladies would beg to differ with you.”
“You're such a pig.”
“Oink-oink. Now, we’ve both impersonated barnyard animals tonight.” I don’t want to grin, but I do. “My desire for your body to one side, we are betrothed now.”
“No, we’re not. I’m not wearing a ring.”
“Alessio and I agreed-”
“You’re not marrying Alessio. It’s not the same as you putting a ring on my finger in front of our families and me accepting it.” His lips twist downward, and I’ve got him. “Traditions are important in the Trio, are they not?”
“The jeweler promises to finish soon. I’ll send one of my men to Palermo tomorrow to check his progress if you wish.”
My mouth falls open. “My ring is being made in Sicily? You bought Sofia’s at Tiffany’s.” He dropped thirty grand on it. She talked about it more than him for three months straight after their betrothal dinner.
“I’d never met Sofia when I chose her ring, but Zacheo has made jewelry for my family for generations.”
He’s having a piece made specifically for me? I’m flabbergasted and somewhat freaked out.
Fortunately, Carlo gives me direction again. “You’re so goddamn sexy in that dress. I thought you cruel to wear it tonight until you mentioned coming over here.” His dark eyes burn with desire. This is my chance.
Moving as gracefully as I can manage, I lift my dress and roll so I may straddle his waist on the sofa. My heart pounds between my ears as I soak up his heat and feel all that muscle under me.
“What are you-”
His words end with a grunt as I settle across his groin, both pleased and terrified to find him growing hard beneath me.
The unwanted memory of Rocco pinning me down starts up in my brain, but Carlo’s hands automatically find my waist and his intoxicating fragrance surrounds me, pushing the trauma away.
I drape my arms over his shoulders, and the memory recedes.
“I don’t want your ring. I want you to forget about marrying me. I want you to forget me altogether.”
“I assure you, you’re impossible to forget, especially when you're in my lap. Fuck…" His thick black eyelashes, fuller than any girl’s, flutter when I shift my hips.
“I came here this late to make you an offer - me, in your bed for one night, Carlo. Tomorrow, you let me go back to Las Vegas and forget all about marrying me in two weeks.”
"A bond has been made.”
“We can unmake it.”
“You expect me to accept one night?”
“One night with me willing, or a lifetime of me fighting you every night."
"What do you mean?" he asks, suddenly leery.
"If you force me to marry you, I will never submit to you in the bedroom. So, unless you plan to rape me-"
His features twist with disgust. "I will never rape anyone, especially not my wife."
I exhale, slowly. Based on how he protected me before, I thought as much, but it's nice to have it confirmed.
"Alright then. One night to satisfy your lust, and you’ll lose interest in marrying me.
" He starts to shake his head, so I cradle his face with my hands, turned on by the stubble digging into my palms. "This offer is only good tonight and if you agree. Otherwise, I’ll leave now, and we'll both be stuck in an unhappily ever after.”
Instinct has me shift my hips again but more slowly this time, rubbing across his hardness with intent. I smile, encouraged by the way he’s starting to pant. Finding my rhythm, I keep moving my hips. Somehow, he’s grown even harder. My panties are getting wet, too.
“If you think dry humping on a sofa is going to make me forget our wedding plans-”
“No,” I say, happy that my following laughter sounds so sultry. “I said one night with me in your bed. Whatever you desire. There’s only one condition - we’re not getting married.”
“It’s two weeks away. I’m a patient man.”
“Are you?” Another slow grind and I can see the tension in his jaw. He wants this.
But since he doesn’t answer my question, I start to climb off of him.
He stifles a groan, and the hands at my waist quickly clamp down.
He doesn’t want to refuse my offer. I have him.
Continuing to rub myself along his cock, I rake my nails down the front of his chest. One of the hands at my waist slides around to my ass.
He studies the swells of my breasts above my dress.
He’s burning up with lust. But then, so am I.
“All yours tonight if you agree,” I repeat, arching my back. Please agree, I think, not even certain if I want him to agree for the reason I originally intended.
He stares intently at my lips, and I lower my mouth to his for the first time. Firm and demanding, he responds, igniting a bonfire inside me with his passion. The rough movement of our lips meeting leaves me incredibly tingly everywhere.
When I pull back, he lightly touches my bottom lip, fanning the flames again. "That was your first kiss, wasn't it?" I nod, and he makes this rumbling, pleased noise deep in his chest, the sound both soothing and sparking something deeper in my core.
I wait for him to take control, and he doesn’t let me down. He cups the back of my head and tilts it slightly, so our noses don’t bump.
Then he devours me.
What was a pleasant tingling sensation in my lips becomes a live wire starting there and dancing its way down my spine until it spreads through my limbs.
Who knew being kissed by the devil would be so heavenly?
Heat pools in my belly, loosening that knot of nerves and twisting it into something far more tempting.
My core clinches with a need I don’t completely understand. Just from a kiss.
When we have to part for air, I press my advantage again. “Do you agree to my terms?”
He gives me a wry smile. “Fuck it, I do."
That was too easy. I have to be clever about this. "You must swear it… on your Trio tattoo. You must make me an oath that we won't marry."
"An oath? You do know how seriously we take that, right? I can't break my word once I do."
I grin, saying, "I know."
He frowns, clearly displeased, but I can tell trying to deny himself is a losing battle. "Very well. If this is truly your wish..."
"It is."
With a nod, he presses his fingers to the three-headed wolf and vows, "On my honor, I swear I will not marry you in two weeks if I can have you in my bed tonight, Francesca.”
Victory goes to my head as he stands abruptly, pulling me up with him. “What are you doing?!” I shriek.
“Taking you upstairs.” Despite how worked up I am, I still gulp with a fresh bout of nerves. “Do you want a drink first?” he asks, noticing.
“Yes, I think I do.”
“Good. I’ll look forward to punishing you for that later.”