Chapter 20 #2
Her gaze dropped. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I lost my way. I didn’t realize this was someone’s office.”
I tilted my head. “I don’t believe you.”
Her lashes fluttered as she lifted her gaze, playing the part of the innocent guest. “Oh, but you must believe me, good sir. I had far too much to drink and lost my way.”
Her eyes darted between me and the floor.
I stepped forward. “I think you’re a spy.”
She gasped—too breathy, too measured. “No! I’m not a spy. I stumbled my way into this room.”
Liar.
She backpedaled, her spine nearly brushing against the bookcase.
She scurried to the right before I could trap her, slipping just out of my reach.
Her hands lifted the cascading layers of her gown, revealing the barest glimpse of her shapely legs beneath the silk.
A knowing smirk curled my lips.
My eyes gleamed behind the mask, dark with intent.
She could run.
She could lie.
But she would never escape me.
“Yes, please,” I murmured. “I’ll have some of the silk beneath your skirts.”
Olivia whirled away, reaching beneath her gown in a fluid motion.
When her hand returned—
She held her dagger.
Her teeth bared, eyes flashing. “I’m going to kill you.”
She lunged, the blade slicing through the air.
I pivoted, dodging her strike at the last second.
I snatched her wrist in the same breath, gripping her dagger hand tight.
“Drop it,” I hissed.
“No!” she spat.
My fingers bore down, pressing hard against her wrist.
“Drop it.”
She cried out, the dagger slipping from her grasp, clattering to the floor.
I kicked it away.
Her chest heaved, fury vibrating off her in waves.
“I’ll find another way to kill you.” Her voice was venomous. “I’m a trained fighter.”
A dark chuckle rumbled in my throat.
“Good.”
I pressed forward, backing her against the bookshelf.
With a sharp movement, I seized both her wrists, pinning them above her head against the wood.
“I’d like to see you try.”
I leaned in, my nose brushing against hers—
Mimicking that stranger’s touch from earlier.
For a breath, she yielded—
Then she tensed, struggling against me.
“Stop. Please.”
Her voice shook—not with fear, but with something far more dangerous.
Desire.
I gripped both wrists with one hand, freeing the other to brush my knuckles along her cheek.
“Why should I?” I murmured, voice low, teasing. “I saw you downstairs, letting another man touch you like this.” My fingers traced her jawline. “It was... arousing.”
I felt the tremor in her breath.
“It stirred something in me. A fire I couldn’t ignore. So, I followed you up here.”
Her lashes fluttered, her lips parting.
“That man meant nothing to me,” she whispered. “He’s a friend. That’s all.”
I tilted my head. Was she telling the truth?
“A friend, you say.” I leaned closer, lips brushing against her ear. “If that’s how you behave with friends...”
I exhaled, nuzzling the shell of her ear.
“Then I’d like to be your friend, too.”
A soft, involuntary shudder rippled through her.
Her eyes fluttered closed.
Her head tipped back against the bookshelf.
Her lips parted in a breathless whisper—
“My God…”
A prayer.
A surrender.
And damn—it made my blood burn.
“See? You are interested in me.” My voice was dark silk, threading around her.
“No!” She writhed, twisting against my hold.
Her movement sent a shock of friction between us—
And then—
One perfect breast popped free from the confines of her bodice.
I sucked in a breath, my hand moving before I could think, tracing the dusky circle of her nipple, feeling the heat of her skin beneath my fingertips.
A ragged breath tore from her throat.
“You’re a breathtaking woman,” I murmured, “and I’m afraid I must claim you as my own.”
Her chest heaved, deep, gasping breaths, making her body tremble against mine.
I leaned in, brushing my lips along the delicate curve of her throat, then licked a lazy line down her skin.
“My God…” she whispered again, her voice breaking.
I closed my eyes, savoring the sound, the feel of her against me.
“I want to have my way with you.” I rocked forward, letting her feel the undeniable proof of my arousal—
“But only if you consent.”
Her sharp inhale sent a jolt through me.
Oh, the torment of being away from her.
Now that I had her, I would never let her go.
Her hands curled into fists. Her hips pressed against me, her body mimicking the motion she claimed to deny.
“You can’t,” she gasped.
I smirked, pressing my lips to the corner of her mouth—a silent, taunting echo of what the stranger had done.
“Can’t I?” My voice was a whisper of heat against her lips. “Tell me… why not?”
Her breath shuddered against mine, her mouth softening, opening just a little—
For a second, I thought she might kiss me back.
But then—
She wrenched her face away, twisting in my grip.
“I have a husband.”
Her words were a dagger to my ribs, her voice unsteady, but her resolve unshaken.
“I love him with all my heart and refuse to betray him.”
I smirked at her exposed throat. “At this party, anything goes. I will give you all the pleasure in the world, and your husband will be none the wiser.”
I kissed the sensitive column of her neck, my lips tracing the frantic beat of her pulse beneath the skin.
She shuddered.
“Please stop this!” she gasped. “My husband—”
I lifted my head, my grip tightening. “Where is this so-called husband of yours?” I challenged, voice low and edged with hunger. “He’s not here. But I am.”
Then—
I bit down on the juncture between her neck and shoulder, sucking hard enough to leave my mark.
Her head fell back, her breath catching—
“Oh, God,” she moaned in English. “What are you doing to me?”
A dark, satisfied chuckle rumbled in my chest.
I lifted my mouth to her ear and murmured, “What any loving husband would do to his wife after being apart for far too long.”
This time, I let my true voice slip through.
The effect was instantaneous.
Olivia’s body stiffened.
Her entire world seemed to halt at that moment.
“Roman?”
I released her.
Then, in one swift motion—
I ripped the mask from my face.
Silence crashed between us.
A storm of emotions flickered across her face—shock, elation… then fury.
Without hesitation—
She drew back her hand and slapped me hard.
My head snapped to the side, pain stinging my cheek.
“Roman! You bastard!”
Her voice was a roar of betrayal, relief, and something wild and untamed.
She trembled, her breathing ragged.
“I thought you were going to have your way with me!”
I caressed my stinging cheek, feeling the warmth of her slap still lingering on my skin.
The tip of my tongue darted across my lips, and a wicked smile curved onto my face.
“You want to play rough?” My voice dropped into something dark, something teasing. “I can play that way.”
Olivia studied me, looking at me with hesitation, with something unspoken.
Then—
Her lips parted, her eyes widening.
And before I could react, she threw herself into my arms, pressing frantic, fevered kisses along my face, jaw, and brow.
“Roman!” she gasped between kisses. “I’m so sorry! I—I was terrified, thinking I’d be thrown into a dungeon, tortured with poisons in some sadistic experiment.”
Her breath came fast and uneven, her fingers fisting into my doublet as if afraid I’d disappear.
“And then, when you kept teasing me, I became confused,” she admitted. “I thought I knew you. Even disguising your voice, you sounded familiar. And your touch…”
She swallowed hard.
“Good God, Roman. Your touch intoxicated me. I felt betrayed by my own body.”
My hands eased to her waist, then gently pushed her back just enough to meet her eyes.
I lifted my knuckles and stroked the soft curve of her cheek, my touch reverent.
“I’m sorry to have played with you, my love.” My voice was rough with many things—longing, guilt, relief. “But I knew it was you, even behind that mask.”
With the gentlest touch, I lifted the feathered ornament from her face, exposing her fully.
We stared at each other.
The world quieted.
The masquerade outside ceased to exist.
I drank her in.
I had dreamed of touching her beautiful face framed by those red curls again. Tiny lines traced the edges of her eyes, marks of a life lived in battle, loss, and survival.
But those lines did not diminish her beauty.
No—
They made her more breathtaking.
My heart clenched. Had I changed, too? Had our circumstances carved lines into my face, made me older, made me someone she barely recognized?
I cupped her jaw, my thumbs brushing over her cheekbones.
Her breath hitched.
“Olivia,” I breathed. “How long has it been?”
Her hands grasped my wrists, holding onto me as if anchoring herself.
“Far too long,” she whispered. “At times, I feared I would never see you again.”
“When we arrived in Italy, I felt you. I knew you were close but didn’t know where to find you.”
Her gaze softened, bright with emotion.
“But you found me.”
And God help me—
I would never let her go again.
“And now I’m going to claim you.”
My voice was rough, low, thick with possession.
“You’re mine. All mine. No one else’s. I will erase every trace of that other man from your skin… from your soul.”
Then—
I crushed my mouth to hers in a savage, consuming kiss.
Our lips met with hunger, a clash of teeth and tongues, of desperation and need.
God, her taste was a drug, a poison, a cure-all at once.
The music from downstairs vibrated through the floor, a relentless pounding rhythm drumming into my spine and throbbing in my veins.
Laughter, moans, and muffled gasps of pleasure from the masquerade below bled into my awareness—
But nothing existed except her.
Us.
Her soft curves pressed against me, the silk of her gown pooling around her like the ruins of a woman no longer untouched, no longer restrained.
Everywhere—upstairs, downstairs, in every darkened corridor of this house—lust hung heavy in the air, suffocating in its depravity.
But here—
Inside this sacred space, we indulged in something deeper.
Not just carnal hunger—but something primal, sacred, eternal.