Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
Katya
Considering how despondent I felt when I went to bed, I wake in a surprisingly good mood. I attribute it to the golden glow of the morning sun that bathes my room in light.
Well, that and the realization that, for a brief moment last night, Gabriele and I made progress. We experienced a moment of closeness and that's something to build on. I am nothing if not determined when it comes to securing my own happiness.
I get up and head for the shower. My bathroom is small but the shower cubicle, tucked in the corner, is spacious. I wouldn't want to entertain a guest in it, but there's enough space for me to be comfortable as I wash.
The thought of Gabriele trying to squeeze his tall, muscular body in there with me makes me smile. We'd have to get very close indeed.
I quickly strip off my pajamas and turn on the water, letting it run for a minute before I get in. I tip my face toward the stream of lukewarm water. It's a little cooler than I'd prefer, but here where even the summer mornings are hot and sticky, I doubt I could bear my usual temperature.
The weather might be the thing I'll miss most about St. Petersburg.
What will it be like to have winter without snow?
For my own sanity I'll have to persuade Gabriele to take me to the Alps.
Perhaps I'll learn to ski. I dismiss the thought immediately.
My father took me to Okhta Park when I was little and yelled at me constantly for losing my balance on the slope.
In any case, Gabriele seems reluctant to cross Rome with me. I doubt he'll want to venture into the mountains. I still haven't worked out why he reacts as he does. But I will.
When I'm finished in the shower, I do my hair and apply some makeup.
Gabriele hasn't laid out any expectations about my appearance, but I understand how important it is for the boss's wife to look immaculate at all times.
My mother certainly doesn't set foot outside the bedroom unless her lashes are curled and her lips form a flawless pout.
I don't take beauty to the extremes she does with all the chemicals she pumps into her face, but I do ensure I look my best.
With my makeup and hair done, I strip off my robe and head into the closet. It's a third of the size of Gabriele's, which is ridiculous considering how many clothes I'll eventually need space for.
The black dress I wore when I first got here has been cleaned, pressed, and hung on the rail. It's not an ideal color with the sun shining so brightly, but at least it's short-sleeved.
I don't know what I was thinking when I packed my case. Probably that I needed to escape St. Petersburg undetected rather than about what clothes I should bring.
My wardrobe is embarrassingly thin for a woman in my position. I've been recycling outfits since I arrived and that can't go on indefinitely.
A plan for the day forms in my mind. I'll call Anna and see if she's free. We came nowhere close to exhausting the possibilities on the Via Condotti the other day and I'm sure there are other great boutiques to explore. We can have lunch together.
If it won't cause too big a hiccup for my security team, I want to go to one of those touristy cafes and sit at the edge of a piazza while I drink overpriced wine and eat pasta the locals would never deign to touch.
Santo might even be persuaded to take me to the Trevi Fountain. I want to throw a coin in the water. It's meant to signify you'll return to Rome one day. I'm not sure how that works if you're planning to live here.
Perhaps Santo will know if I get another wish instead. A lifetime of good health and happiness would do.
I glance at the clock on the nightstand and see that it's after ten. It's a bit late to bother Maria for breakfast, although I know she'll insist it's no trouble. She's too obliging for her own good.
Though I'm glad to at least have a clock so I can check the time, I'm starting to wonder if I'll ever get the phone I was promised.
I'll need to ask Lukas what the delay is.
Surely they've vetted my contacts by now.
Half of my numbers are for vapid socialites.
I doubt most of them are a danger to anyone but themselves.
I put on my shoes and go to the door, flinging it open with the enthusiasm I intend to carry through the rest of the day. I come to a crashing halt.
Santo is standing there. His presence is not a coincidence. I didn't catch him walking by. He's positioned against the wall, his feet spread apart and hands clasped in front of him. He's been stationed there.
"Santo!" I press my hand to my chest where my heart is attempting to batter its way through my ribcage. "You frightened me. What the hell are you doing out here?"
"The boss asked me to look after you, Signora."
I blink twice then narrow my eyes. "In my bedroom?"
The look of alarm that crosses his face is both amusing and something of an insult.
"No, Signora Katya," he says earnestly. "Of course not. Outside."
I tilt my head to the side. He's giving me the what but not the why. It doesn't take a genius to work out what's going on.
"He's asked you to shadow me?"
Santo nods.
"Why?"
"The house is on lockdown, Signora."
A cold shiver of dread slides through my veins. "What has happened?"
"You'll need to speak to Signore Volante about that."
Of course, because it would be too much to simply tell me what's going on in my own home. If there's a problem, Gabriele should have come to me himself. I breathe through my frustration.
"So we can't go shopping today?"
Santo shakes his head.
"Then can I invite Anna…"
"Sorry, Signora. Nobody in or out."
"Okay." I think about it for a moment. Situations arise where security needs to be tightened. I understand that. I just have to make the best of it. "We'll spend the day in the garden, then. I want to decide where to put a…."
"Sorry, Signora Katya. We're not allowed in the garden either."
I raise my eyebrows. "We?"
I highly doubt anyone is trying to restrict his movements.
He lifts a shoulder in an apologetic shrug. "You, Signora. You are not allowed in the garden."
"Uh-huh." I press my lips together. "So, what exactly am I supposed to do all day?"
"Well, you could….." He trails off mid-sentence, because he's got nothing.
"Great."
"I'm sorry, Signora."
"Stop saying you're sorry." It isn't his fault. He's just following orders. "Take me to my husband. There are a few things I want to get straight with him."
Santo spreads his hands wide and I know another damned apology is coming. "I can't, Signora. He's in a meeting."
"And?"
"He's not to be interrupted."
Storming downstairs with Santo hot on my heels, I barge into the study without knocking. The room is empty. I turn to Santo.
"Where is he?"
"The conference room."
I frown. I don't remember seeing a conference room when Lukas gave me a tour of the house.
"Conference room?"
Santo nods. "In the guardhouse." He gestures toward the French doors leading out onto the lawn and beyond it that little horrible gray building that's a real blot on the landscape. I can't help noticing there's a man in a dark suit standing outside the doors.
I march to the glass doors.
"Signora Volante, I cannot let you go out there."
Just how will he stop me? I fling open the door, startling the older man who's stationed there. He reaches for his gun before he sees it's me.
"Put that away," Santo hisses.
While they're momentarily distracted, I take the opportunity to push past the guard. I march briskly toward the guardhouse. Santo jogs after me.
Slinging an arm around my waist, he scoops me off the ground and drops me over his shoulder in a single fluid motion. He turns and strides back toward the house.
"Put me down," I screech.
"Signora, please," he says.
Yelling loudly, I wriggle to free myself. Then he lights a touchpaper to my anger by shushing me. Furious, I open my mouth and scream. That stops him in his tracks. He lowers me to my feet and I straighten my skirt.
"Katya!" Gabriele's voice cuts through the air like a blade. I turn to look as he heads for us, his anger palpable even from a distance.
He stops in front of us, his intense gaze on me.
"Go and wait in the kitchen," he instructs Santo, his tone implacable.
"Yes, Signore."
As Santo hurries away I feel a stab of guilt at landing him on Gabriele's shit list. It's not his fault I threw a tantrum. Gabriele grabs my arm. He steers me back across the terrace and into the house. His grip isn't harsh but there's no escaping it either.
"Gabriele!" I protest.
"Silence!" he commands as he opens the living room door. Releasing my arm, he shoves me inside. "What are you playing at, Katya?"
"I'm not playing at anything. I wanted to speak to you."
"About?"
"This lockdown. It's not fair that I can't even…."
He moves ridiculously fast. Whirling me around, he shoves me forward so I end up bent over the back of a chair. He shoves my dress up and rips my panties down my legs. I shriek as he spanks my ass, hard.
Before I can react, he does it again and again, his palm landing sharply on my bottom. It stings like hell. I wriggle, trying to get away from him, but he places a hand at the small of my back and effortlessly holds me in place.
"Stop, Gabriele!" I cry out as he continues to spank me.
The burn in my flesh intensifies but it's the humiliation that really gets to me.
"I'm not done."
He spanks me two more times until tears start to fall. He turns me around to face him. The cold fury in his expression hasn't lessened. I grew up around dangerous men but I’ve never experienced such an intense spike of fear as I do now.
"Get on your knees."
"Gabriele." Something about his tone makes me take a step back. I raise my hands placatingly. Please."
Still I hesitate, unsure whether he might actually hurt me. My heart shudders. I let out a sob and sink to the floor.
Gabriele unfastens his pants and frees his cock. It's clear what he plans to do. In spite of myself, I lick my lips as I stare at his impressive erection.
"Open your mouth," he demands.
I part my lips and he slides his cock into my mouth, all the way to the back of my throat. I gag as he chokes me with it.
"Breathe through it." His voice is not unkind but he's not about to show mercy.
I close my eyes and steady my breath as he pulls out a little then pushes back in.
"Look at me," he commands. "I want to watch while I fuck your face."
I reach up to grab his ass, to anchor myself, but he bats my hands away.
"Hands behind your back and keep them there."
With my mouth stuffed full of his cock, I can't argue. I bring my hands around to my back and interlock my fingers, the action pushing my breasts forward. Gabriele murmurs approvingly and I take comfort in knowing I'm doing something right.
He fucks my mouth with signature ruthlessness.
I hollow my cheeks as I try to suck, to enhance his pleasure, to make amends.
I can't keep up with his rhythm. He possesses my mouth completely.
It goes on and on. Tears stream down my face as I look to him for reassurance and find only harshness in his expression.
Suddenly Gabriele stills. His cock jerks and he groans as he spends inside my mouth. The taste is odd but not unpleasant.
"Show me," he demands as he withdraws from my mouth.
Tilting my head back, I part my lips so he can see his seed on my tongue.
"Swallow every drop."
I do as I'm told. Gabriele reaches out and caresses my cheek. I can't help it. I lean into his touch.
"Good girl," he murmurs before pulling his hand away. He tucks himself back into his pants. "Learn your place, Katya. Things will go better for you if you do."
A tear slides down my cheek. Something moves in Gabriele's expression, a flicker of emotion I can't read. Then he turns and walks away.
The quiet click of the door is worse somehow than if he'd slammed it. He promised I’d never have to fear violence from him. I suppose this isn’t what he meant though I can’t yet see the distinction.
I remain on the floor, staring down at the ugly Persian rug. I don’t know how long I stay there but enough time passes that the trembling in my legs subsides.
The shock I felt fades, gradually giving way to defiance.
Learn my place? I snort derisively and toss my hair back over my shoulder.
If Gabriele thinks my place is on my knees he's got a shock coming. I bow down to no one.
Not even him.