CHAPTER SIXTEEN #2
Damien’s hand is on my ass and he’s holding on to me tight, making sure I don’t fall over.
When I come down from the high, Damien releases me, running a hand through my hair.
I don’t even want to think about what I look like right now.
I just want to run away and hide from the intense emotions I just experienced.
“You look beautiful when you come, mi vida ,” he says, kissing my cheek.
He pulls his fingers out of me ad it feels empty. But I don’t focus on it because he brings his gingers u ad licks them one by one without breaking eye contact. Holy shit.
The same fingers he just fucked me with.
I’m pretty sure this is the most turned on I’ve ever been in my life. He lifts his thumb and rests it against my lips. I don’t hesitate to lick it, before sucking it in, my eyes still on him. His eyes practically gleam.
“Fuck, what am I going to do with you?”
He pulls his thumb out and I’m wondering what the hell I should say in this situation when a voice suddenly fills the space we’re in, making me jump.
“Mr. Luciano, we sincerely apologize for the inconvenience this has caused,” someone says through the speaker in the elevator. “You’ll be let out in a minute.”
My heart starts jack hammering in my chest and I remember what we just did in an extremely public space.
“Don’t elevators have cameras?” I whisper, looking up wildly.
“Possibly,” Damien says, shrugging. “It’s likely someone was watching us. Watching me make you shatter all over my fingers.”
My stomach heats up at his silky tone.
“That’s…. not okay,” I whisper.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll kill anyone that even looks at you that way,” he states.
And since I know for a fact he’s being serious, the threat is all the more scary. I watch as he pulls out his phone and sends a text to someone. While I try to rearrange my clothes and hair, which is an absolute mess. Damien watches me as I make myself more presentable.
I reapply my lipstick and release a breath once I’m satisfied that I look okay. Which is when the infuriating man decides to wrap a hand around my neck, kissing me deep and completely turning my brain to mush. I slap his chest when he pulls away.
“Seriously?” I mutter, my head swimming.
“I like you better this way.”
“Well, considering we’re about to walk into a restaurant with God knows how many people, I’d rather not look like you just fucked me in here.”
His lips grow heated, “That wasn’t me fucking you, Cassie. That was just an appetizer. I’m not sure how much you remember, but I’ll make sure you never forget again.”
I never forgot, how could I? But I don’t tell him, I look forward to his threat.
“Also the restaurant isn’t filled with anyone,” he says.
My brows furrow, just as the elevator doors finally open. I’d give him an A-plus for the distraction tactics. I completely forgot all the claustrophobia I was feeling as soon as his fingers were inside of me. He’s good at what he does.
“What does that mean?” I ask, linking my hand through his arm when he offers.
“I mean, sweetheart,” he drawls, leading me into the beautiful, tastefully decorated empty restaurant, “I rented the entire place out.”
I roll my eyes. I think one flaw of his is that he likes unnecessary ostentatious displays of wealth. For example offered to fly me out to Cabo for our honeymoon after our wedding. And now this. It’s attractively arrogant if that’s even a thing.
We’re welcomed into the restaurant by only the staff who take the time to apologize again for the incident in the elevator.
I’m too busy taking in the grand piano tucked into one corner of the restaurant, tables draped in white linen gleam with crystal glasses and polished silver.
Everything is soft candlelight and velvet shadows, quiet and warm and impossibly elegant.
It’s perfect.
Damien pulls out my chair for me at the table in the center of the room. My stomach does a little flutter as I sit on the plush chair cushion. A bottle of red wine waits in a silver bucket beside the table, already uncorked. Damien lifts it and pours for the both of us with practiced ease.
“I would have ordered us some whiskey but I figured this is more appropriate,” he teases.
My eyes narrow, “You have got to let that go.”
He chuckles shortly before raising his glass for a toast, “You’ll like the wine.”
I clink our glasses together before taking a sip. It’s smooth and smoky, dry enough to make my lips part slightly in surprise.
“Good?” he asks watching me.
“Very,” I agree.
A waiter appears out of nowhere, offering menus. Another places a tiny plate of amuse-bouche between us. it’s an artful tower of avocado, shrimp and mango on a porcelain spoon. We place our orders and are left alone. Damien leans back slightly in his chair, swirling his wine.
“So, what do we do now?” he asks.
I can’t help a smile at that, “You sound unsure like you’ve never taken a woman on a date before.”
“Most of the women I’ve been with were never important enough to me. Never important enough for this.”
I feel a quick flare of jealous at the thought of him being with other women but I tamp it down.
“Ah, and how many women are we talking about?” I question, meeting his gaze.
He smiles, “You don’t want the answer to that question, mi vida .”
“Don’t tell me what I want, Damien,” I retort.
Amusement gleans in his eyes, “Don’t talk back.”
“Don’t be a controlling asshole,” I snap back.
“You just keep adding on to the list of things I’ll be punishing you for after,” he threatens, heat in his tone.
My stomach flutters. Damn butterflies.
“Who says I’ll let you do anything to me?”
“You were just dripping all over my fingers a couple minutes ago, bella . Let’s not delude ourselves.”
I groan softly, “Let’s change the topic. What do you like to do for fun? I feel like we’re constantly only talking about me.”
“Besides being Don?” he asks.
“Isn’t that your job? Do you genuinely enjoy being Don?”
He pauses to think on that for a second. I watch as he turns the question over.
“It’s a part of me. I was raised to become the Don. The Cosa Nostra is all I know.”
“But do you like it?” I press.
He smiles, “What do you want me to say, mi vida ? That I don’t enjoy the role I have to play? That all the violence, the murder isn’t something I would choose?”
A soft breath escapes me and I can feel my heart thudding in my chest.
“Yes,” I answer honestly.
“It would make it easier for you, wouldn’t it?
Saying that would make it easier for you to accept this thing between us,” he says softy, almost sadly.
“Unfortunately, sweetheart. I can’t do that.
Like I said it’s a part of me. I don’t know anything else.
Being Don, having to do all that I’ve done…
that’s me. You can either choose to accept it, or… ”
“Or what?” I breathe, interrupting. “You took away my choice when you married me, didn’t you?”
“I chose you. I made you mine, Cassie. You don’t have to make me yours. Not if you don’t want to.”
My heart skips a beat at that. I never thought about it like that. And suddenly I don’t feel so helpless anymore. With those words, he’s given me some semblance of power. I stare at him for what feels like hours and he’s content to let me. Content to give me this one thing.
Our food arrives and is placed in front of us. Damien leans forward, breaking eye contact.
“Eat, bella ,” he orders. And the he adds, his expression completely serious, “I like to watch football. Not the American kind, soccer.”
“What?” I ask with a surprised laugh.
“I never miss a match when Arsenal’s playing. We should watch one together sometime.”
I nod slowly, “I’d like that.”
We still have a long way together. But tonight feels like such a milestone. And suddenly it doesn’t matter to me that he doesn’t hate it. That he willingly chooses this life.
Frankly I’m running out of reasons why it should. Maybe I do want him. Maybe a part of me actually craves the darkness. Darkness fills voids too.
Damien might be just what I need to fill the void inside of me.