Chapter 18
18
R AIN
Propped against the bathroom door, I watch him shaving.
His hair is still wet from the shower, and his low-sitting lounge pants hug his hips.
His muscles shift as he flexes his arms and trails his jawline with his fingers.
His face is smooth, his eyes filled with the morning light.
“How was it?” I ask, giving him a quick once over.
“Are you checking me out?” he asks, ignoring my question.
Barefoot, I step toward him and lean against the vanity.
He faces the mirror. I face him.
He gives me a side-eyed glance and a smirk.
“Are you?” he insists.
A soft grin tickles my lips.
“Maybe.”
Tilting his gaze down, he takes in my baby–doll nightie.
The sheer fabric stops below the apex of my thighs, and I have no panties underneath.
A wolfish smile creases his lips.
“Are you going to tell me?” I ask, sliding my rear onto the vanity.
He flicks his eyes up.
“How was the time you spent in Portugal?” I murmur.
Our eyes stay locked while he ponders something.
He sets the electric shaver down and checks his face in the mirror again.
“It was okay. I only spent a few hours with them and talked to my mother about you.”
“What exactly did you talk about?”
“What you do... Your writing and your books. Stuff like that.”
He pauses before he continues.
“I also told her you relentlessly pursue me,” he says, winking at me.
“James…” I say, smiling.
He edges closer to me, his eyes glinting with mischief.
“Isn’t it true?”
His hands land smoothly on my thighs before slowly riding my baby doll dress up.
Tingles spur beneath his touch.
“Speaking of that,” I say, stroking his forearms.
He nudges my legs open and wedges himself between my thighs.
I lift my gaze to meet his eyes, but my attention gets completely shattered when his groin touches my sex.
It takes him a couple of seconds to read my eyes before he moves his hand to my neck and pulls me into him, taking my lips and unraveling my thoughts.
A fresh scent of raw masculinity flows through me, bringing me pleasure.
I wrap my legs around his waist before he lifts me and carries me away.
Moments later, he kicks the bedroom door open and slowly sets me on the bed.
He flicks my baby doll dress up, exposing my slit and breasts before burying his head between my thighs.
I clutch his hair.
“Oh, no, no...” I murmur, grinning as he swirls his tongue over my clit, and my senses explode with pleasure. “Fucking yes...” I mumble in a trance, tensing and relaxing before tensing again.
My eyes get heavy as my hips roll, the pleasure intensifying.
He licks me and sucks on my clit, making me come within moments.
Holding his head with both hands, I shudder.
He barely pulls his mouth away from me when his phone buzzes on the nightstand.
We both ignore it.
A moment later, it rings again.
Eyes unfocused, lips swollen, and cheeks flushed, he pushes off the bed, his erection bouncing against his silky pants.
Running his thumb across his lips, he stretches his hand out and grabs his phone.
Without glancing at the screen, he turns it off.
“Don’t you want to know who called you?”
“Not now.”
He sheds his lounge pants and cuffs his erection.
My eyes stay trained on the bulbous head of his cock as he runs his fist up and down, smoothly stroking his hard flesh.
“Don’t I know that look...” he murmurs, sliding his knees onto the bed on either side of me.
A pillow supports my back as he tilts his hips forward.
The tip of his erection touches, brushes, and teases my mouth. I give him a sultry look.
He slowly shakes his head, a knowing smile curving his lips.
“No hands…” he says.
I tip my chin down in agreement.
“All right...” he drawls, bringing his free hand to my face.
His fingers trail my jawline and my lips before going down my neck and tugging at my baby doll dress. The neckline goes past my chest, my breasts getting swept by air.
He rides the bottom up and bunches my dress around my waist, exposing my pussy.
I spread my legs as he keeps stroking his hard meat.
His hand comes to my face again, his thumb trailing my lips, slipping between them, and thrusting into my mouth.
I swirl my tongue around it.
“Good girl,” he says, pleased, his shaft stirring in his fist.
I watch his hand sliding up and down, stroking his silky skin and coiled veins as I suck on his fingers as if sucking on his erection, swirling my tongue around it, breathing hot air over it.
My hands travel up and down his thighs while I wrestle with anticipation.
His touch breaks away from my lips, slides into my hair, and guides my head forward, bringing my mouth inches away from his erection.
He presses the chiseled flesh against my lips.
I flick the tip of my tongue out, only to taste the air as he pulls back.
“Open it,” he says quietly, his gaze set on my lips as I wait for him to fill my mouth.
I part my lips again.
Slowly, he pushes his hips forward, slipping his hard, thick shaft into my mouth. He rides it in until it hits the back of my throat, and the warm wetness of my mouth wraps around it.
I press my lips on him, stroking him with my tongue.
He moves his hard meat in and out, thrusting and guiding my head, choosing the best rhythm for us.
“Go all the way,” I say when I get the chance to speak again.
His eyes fill with a smile.
He pushes his hardness back in, letting me feel the tension pulsing underneath his skin. His body tenses, his grip hardening as the rock-hard crown and glistening length repeatedly push into my mouth.
He pulls back only for a moment so that I can tease the sensitive underside of the tip and then buries himself deep in my mouth, a grunt vibrating in his chest, the pace of his rocking hips changing.
His hard pecs strain against his skin, his chest moving rapidly, his eyelids going halfway down, a faint smile clinging to his lips as he starts to shudder.
The pleasure rips through him, zipping through his veins, bringing a quiet growl to his lips.
I keep sucking on him until his hot release trickles from my lips.
A few moments pass before his eyes become focused again.
He tips his gaze down and, without a word, pulls me up and locks my lips, emotion streaming through his kiss.
Seconds later, he breaks away from me and leaves the bed, turning his phone on before going to the bathroom.
Silence grows in his wake as the bathroom door closes.
The water runs in the bathroom as I lie on the bed, my head sunk into the pillow, my eyes glued to the ceiling, and my mind blank.
Mixed feelings flow through me as the afterglow begins to fade. I remember I want to tell him something important, just as his phone rings again.
I tip my head to the side when the bathroom door pulls open, and he walks out, a towel wrapped around his waist.
He picks up his phone, his eyebrows knitted together as he pushes his gaze to the screen.
He slides his thumb across the screen, pivots away from the bed, and walks to the window.
An alarming feeling jolts through me.
Back turned to me, he answers the call.
“Yes?”
He goes silent as a woman's voice scrambles words at the other end of the line.
Something’s wrong, suggests the tension in his shoulders.
“When?” he asks.
The woman explains something hurriedly, fueling the strange feeling barreling through me.
“Okay, okay... Calm down.”
She utters more words while he rakes his fingers through his hair.
“Okay. All right... I’ll fly back soon.”
A hole forms in my chest.
He hangs up as I wait eagerly to hear the news. Without turning around, he makes a call.
The person picks up quickly.
“Hey, Thomas... I need you to fly with me tonight.”
A short pause follows before James speaks again.
“Tiago Rossi is missing again.”
My heart sinks.
* * *
RAIN
A week later
Monte Carlo
The streets are empty beneath the summer sky as the beach and the clubs are most likely the people's favorite spots this time of year.
Wearing a white chiffon dress, heels, and sparkling jewelry, I climb the stairs to the hotel entrance.
It’s the second time I have shown up unannounced this month.
I didn’t plan to surprise him again, but for some reason, I couldn’t tell him on the phone what I couldn’t spell out in person when he spent time with me back home.
The news of Tiago Rossi’s disappearance pushed our personal problems back, making me miss the opportunity to talk to him, but now I’m here, determined to speak with him.
“Good evening, Miss.”
I nod to the doorman, who smiles at me as he pulls the door open.
Swiftly, I walk across the lobby, heading to the elevator.
The silent car takes me up before I stop in front of James’ hotel suite and knock on the door.
The door pulls open, my gaze still tilted down.
The tips of a pair of fashionable stilettos snag my eyes before I drag my gaze up and take in a beautiful woman whose features strikingly resemble his.
A smile tilts her lips as she notices my surprise.
Her dark hair sets off her green eyes, and her tight body nicely fills a flattering emerald dress.
She stretches her hand out.
“You must be Rain,” she says, her grin slightly tense, her eyes loaded with concern.
Our hands lock.
“I’m Theresa. James’ mother. Come on in,” she says, stepping to the side and inviting me in.
I take a few steps, stop in the middle of the room, and glance around.
“Where is he?”
“He’ll be here momentarily. He’s at a business dinner downstairs.”
“Would you like something to eat?” she asks, gesturing to the table set on the terrace.
“I’m good. Thank you. Can we sit here?”
“Sure. Coffee?”
“Water would be fine,” I say, taking a seat on the sofa.
She fills a glass with ice cubes and mineral water and hands it to me before going to the terrace, picking up her coffee, and walking back inside.
She sits in an armchair not far from me and slides a plate with pastries closer to us.
I take one to occupy my hands and mouth.
The flaky dessert melts in my mouth, the aroma of pastry cream and sweet raspberries making my palate tingle.
“They’re delicious, aren’t they?” she asks before sipping coffee.
I nod.
Her expression changes, her smile fading as she sets her drink on the coffee table.
I chew and swallow slowly before pushing the question out.
“Is there any news?” I ask.
She brings a dull gaze to me.
“I’m afraid not.”
“What happened?”
She tries to maintain her composure while taking a long breath.
“He left a week ago. He said he’d visit his father,” she adds, the words soft on her lips. “I found it odd since they hadn’t been in a good relationship for a very long time.”
She pauses, her eyes coming to my face.
“I don’t know how much James told you about me.”
“He told me things...” I quietly say.
“Well, it’s been difficult. I couldn’t find a way to make things right for my son. For Tiago, I mean...” she says, a rueful smile creasing her lips.
She goes quiet, having a hard time holding my eyes.
“I know what you must think,” she says. “I wasn’t a good mother to James, and now I’m doing a bad job when it comes to his brother as well.”
For a moment, I reflect on how her choices affected my life and shaped my first years with James.
I’m sure she didn’t plan it that way, but that’s how life works.
Her life choices had a domino effect that rippled through our lives.
But who am I to judge?
I did the same thing when I tore my family apart, affecting their lives and setting everybody on new paths. Myself included.
Much harm had been done out of ignorance and, ironically, my desire to do the right thing.
She probably tried to do her best, as James reiterated so many times, but her doing her best screwed up other people’s lives.
Why does it matter what I think about her?
“You did everything you could, but sometimes things just don’t work out.”
Her eyes spend a few moments on my face as she muses over something.
“Besides, I’m not the best person to judge,” I say. “I’m sure there were factors you had no control over.”
“I guess,” she says, smiling faintly. “Anyway... So that’s what happened. Tiago flew to Rome to meet my ex-husband and the Italian part of his family. They spent a couple of days together before he left. According to my ex-husband, Tiago bought a ticket for Lisbon. My ex-husband drove him to the airport. According to the police, he’d never made it to the plane or boarded another flight. And that was that. No one has seen him or heard from him ever since.”
The silence grows as I try to find something reassuring to say.
She speaks again.
“Does James know that you’re here?”
“He doesn’t,” I say, feeling bad for showing up uninvited, dragging my own problems into this.
In my defense, I didn’t know what I’d find here.
“So, what is the plan now?” I ask.
She shifts her eyes to me.
“James’ people try to track him down. Police have been involved as well. No one knows whether he left Italy or not. If he did, he must’ve used a fake passport again. That’s what Thomas says.”
Her expression changes as she pivots in her seat and picks up her phone.
“I’ll be flying back in a couple of hours,” she says, checking her phone screen. “There’s nothing I can do right now.”
Her voice is tense, relaying the kind of stress she is experiencing right now.
“He’s probably fine,” I say, listening to my gut feeling.
A dash of hope colors her gaze.
“You think so?”.
“Yes, I do,” I murmur, trying to figure out what has prompted me to say that.
I only met Tiago once.
It was that awkward moment when I pressed myself against his almost naked body, thinking I was hugging James.
And then I spent a few more moments with him before he left Monaco.
He has a mind of his own. He is also careless and ruthless, the way James used to be.
He doesn’t care much about anything other than himself.
In my experience, these people pull through all the time.
Even if he got snatched by bad people, he’d still leave a trail of clues to lead the police to him.
He wouldn’t go down without a fight.
“He seems like a strong man,” I say when all I want to say is ‘stubborn.’
Stubborn, ruthless, and creative.
That’s a winning combination when you need to stay alive.
I’m sure he has something to do with his disappearance, but I can’t tell that to his mother.
“And smart,” I add.
“Oh. You’re very kind,” she says, slipping her phone into her purse. “He is all that. But he is very young.”
I remember being about his age when I started living on my own in New York—doing what I was doing. The funny thing was I never thought about myself as being young and clueless.
I went on about my life, showing more courage than older people, perhaps, simply because I didn’t know much.
That’s why I pursued stuff that not many people had pursued.
I’m sure James’ brother is like that too.
She pushes out of her chair.
“I have to leave now,” she says. “I wish we could’ve met in different circumstances,” she adds as I rise. “Perhaps one day we’ll get the chance to sit around the table at my home in Lisbon and talk about this over a cup of coffee and a slice of cake,” she says, smoothing the lapels of her blouse. “Please tell James I had to leave.”
“I will.”
With that, she exits the suite.