60. Wynter
Wynter
I woke up with a heavy hand wrapped around me and the scent I’d come to know so well. My body ached with the sweetest exhaustion. Some things we’d done last night would make a much more experienced woman blush.
And when he muttered something in Italian, I fucking melted. Melted! I wanted to ask him what he said, but then his tongue slid inside me and I forgot every damn language but moaning. He fucked me slowly, in every possible way, murmuring soft words in my ear.
Our bodies fit perfectly together. His hands branded me; his mouth gave me hope; his heart owned me.
For a few moments, I just laid there, staring out the large window that covered one entire wall of the bedroom with the city spread across the horizon and a startling realization hit me.
No nightmare.
Two consecutive nights without nightmares and both while I slept with Bas. I felt better. Rested. As if he felt my revelation in his sleep, Bas’ hold on me tightened. Comfort. He was my comfort.
Shortly after we arrived at Basilio's fancy, new penthouse, our clothes and groceries arrived. Bas and I put it all away. It felt natural, almost as if we picked up where we left off before everything blew up. Before his father.
The air was tense, like he waited for something.
I glanced over my shoulder and he looked so damn tense, even in his sleep. Like he expected me to betray him. Except, I didn’t. It was he who betrayed me by never revealing his true intentions.
The attraction was there regardless. But maybe if he’d told me all he knew and kept his fucking father away, I’d have kept my promise and not walked away like his mother. Even so, it hurt me to know that my actions made him colder.
Maybe instead of running, I should have sought Bas out. I started to get an inkling that maybe, just maybe, his father’s visit didn’t go exactly as Bas planned it. I’d have to confront him about what happened.
Returning my attention back to the window, I looked at the city skyline. Maybe I should have trusted my heart. Goddamn it, I didn’t know. But now that I knew the pain, I was hesitant to trust him fully.
I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of Mom keeping Juliette and I out of the underworld, only to sink ourselves into it elbows deep.
And our past came back to haunt us with a vengeance.
Mom! And Priest!
Did she know? He wasn’t at the Olympics so she wouldn’t have seen him. A half-brother. So technically that makes him Irish, Russian, and Italian too. Right? So why in the hell would they even need me to make a connection with the Pakhan?
It was pointless. I’d never figure it out, not unless I flat out asked and demanded all the answers from Bas.
Careful not to wake him up, I slid out of his grip and got out of bed. I glanced down at myself, wearing black boyshorts and a pink tank top. He bought me tons of pink stuff, and when I asked him why so much pink, he grumbled something about it being my color.
I padded barefoot to the kitchen, unsure what to do with myself. There was no gym here, no equipment. Nothing. He said his Hampton home had a gym and he’d get me whatever I needed.
Yet only one thing kept coming to mind when I thought about what I needed. Him .
But he hadn’t mentioned words of love, and I stubbornly refused to admit it. God, I wished I had a phone so I could call… Mom? Someone who could tell me what was normal in this situation.
I glanced around the kitchen. Even this room had a large bay window overlooking the Hudson River. From all the way up here, the city appeared tranquil and the only thing that betrayed it were the movement of cars.
Two more days.
I’d be his wife. Though after everything last night, I felt like his wife in every single way except in name. My cheeks burned with the memory of everything that happened last night. It was almost as if Bas was trying to make up for all the lost time and cram it all into one night of fucking.
There was no mistaking it - that was fucking. There was nothing gentle or loving about it. God help me, I loved it.
If only I could marry him - just the two of us and nobody else.
No, no… the two of us, my mom, Uncle, the girls, and Sasha.
He could have his cousins and sister there also.
I’d forgive them for the kidnapping. After all, Priest was my brother, Emory is his sister, and Dante is… Well, I wasn’t sure what he was.
A sigh shuddered out of me and trepidation fluttered deep inside me. It wasn't because of the forced marriage. After all, I wanted to marry Bas nine months ago. I was scared of seeing his father.
What if he tried something again?
My hands shook as I opened the fridge door. I stared at the contents, focusing on ingredients. Lots of fruit, pre-made pasta meals, almond milk, spinach, and Greek yogurt.
“Banana, blackberries, almond milk, spinach,” I muttered, forcing my mind away from the dark thoughts. “Banana, blackberries, almond milk, spinach.”
My stomach rumbled. I glanced over the door, in the direction of our bedroom and my lips curved into a smile. The idea hit me like a lightning bolt.
“Wakey, wakey,” I whispered gleefully. I stood at the island and pulled my hair into a messy bun, then started my search for a blender. “Aha,” I exclaimed quietly, careful not to wake up Bas… well at least not that way.
I peeled the bananas and tossed them into the blender. Then I washed blackberries, spinach, and added them into the blender. Almond milk followed, and with a wicked grin on my face, I pushed the on button.
The roaring blender filled the morning silence and I grinned as I listened to it grind. I could already picture Bas moaning and groaning, cursing the day he dragged me here.
Easily rectified , I mused to myself, keeping my finger on the ice crush button.
But the tightness in my chest immediately followed.
I loved him so much it freaking hurt. It was the kind of maddening love that ached, but you refused to let it go because it was part of your every breath. Every heartbeat.
A sharp sting on my butt cheek caused me to jump and I let go of the button to spin around. Of course, I knew it was him. Nobody else was here, but still my heart thundered in my chest.
Bas stood in the kitchen, two feet away from me, wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs and his black hair tousled. His piercing gaze was glued to me and mine to his abs, covered with the kingpin skull tattoo along his right side. The tattoo I licked last night.
My cheeks heated and longing burned with an ache in the pit of my stomach. I burned for him with such a raw need that it scared me.
Well, this backfired rather quickly.
“What are you doing?” he grumbled, his eyes on me but something dark and all-consuming flared behind his eyes.
“Breakfast smoothie,” I breathed. “Want some?”
He should really put some clothes on and hide that body.
His prancing around was cruel to weak women like me, tempting me.
My palms remembered the feel of his abs, they itched to touch him again.
I wanted to trail the line of hair below his navel with my fingers, feel his muscles tense and his control snap again. For me .
God, help me. He was turning me into a sex-crazed woman.
“Are you going to stare at me all day?” His voice was deep, sending shivers down my spine with a rough caress.
I swallowed, the heat rushing to my cheeks. Suddenly, my bright idea didn’t seem so bright, because seeing Bas in his boxers gave me different kinds of ideas.
The kind that would take us back to the bedroom.
* * *
Basilio drove his car with confidence and control. Just the way he fucked.
My pulse fluttered and a throbbing ache traveled between my thighs.
This man would be the death of me, because all I could think and feel was him.
So many unspoken words lingered in the air and I couldn’t find the beginning to start unraveling the past so we’d find ourselves back at the day when I fell into his arms.
The sun shone brightly and the air felt humid but we left the windows rolled down. He drove in silence and I couldn’t help flicking a gaze his way. Darkness glinted all around him, even under the bright rays of sun, but I couldn’t help but stare into it.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
He just told me to put on a bathing suit and grab a beach towel, then left it at that. His head tilted to the side, meeting my gaze before returning it back to the road.
“Beach.”
I rolled my eyes. “I figured that when you told me to put my bathing suit on. But where?”
I looked at his profile and saw a small smile appear on his lips.
“Curiosity killed the cat,” he drawled.
He flicked a gaze to me and dark amusement shone in his eyes.
I raised a brow, surprised at his teasing. The warm air brushed my cheeks and whipped my curls around me. This moment almost reminded me of how it felt before… before his father.
“This cat might kill Basilio DiLustro,” I remarked casually but my smile kind of ruined the threat.
He grinned. “If I had to choose how to die, it would be by your hand, principessa.”
Raw pain slashed through my chest at the thought of Bas dead. Just the thought of it shattered my heartbeats one by one and I knew that nothing would ever be the same if he no longer walked this earth. I wouldn’t be the same.
The car came to a stop and I immediately recognized the area. My uncle’s Hampton home was nearby. I straightened into my seat.
“The Hamptons?” I asked, my eyes darting back and forth. “Are the girls here?”
He shook his head. “No, they are with Davina and the baby in California.”
My shoulders slumped. “That’s right, I forgot. Davina had the baby.”
Last week, right after the attack at Emory's home. I missed it because of Bas. Uncle begrudgingly called Bas since I had no electronics with me. Then he handed the phone to Juliette who promptly cursed Basilio out and told him she’d cut him into tiny little pieces when she got her hands on him.
Family reunions will be so much fun , I thought dryly.
“This is my place,” he interrupted my thoughts.
“I want you to see where we’ll be having the reception.
” I tilted my head and watched him in silence.
“I want you to see the setup and get your input.” I blinked, slightly confused.
Was this his olive branch? “Whatever you don’t like, in the house or for the wedding reception, we can change. ”
“Okay,” I finally said while emotions tugged at my heart, urging me to lean over and kiss him. He was my center of gravity and life without him was pointless. But then so was the pride that held me back
The car came to a stop, the engine of his black Chevy Corvette extinguished. The two of us exited the car, and he came around to take my hand into his, then handed me his cell phone.
“Call her,” he offered, his voice warm against my ear.
I took his phone, though something deep down in me rebelled. “I want my own phone back, Basilio,” I demanded softly. “When-” When will you trust me? But I had to be scared of his answer because I couldn’t get the words out. “I won’t leave,” I promised.
He reached in the back seat of his Corvette and grabbed the beach bag.
You’d think he’d look ridiculous carrying a large pink bag, but no.
He looked fucking hot, with his aviator glasses, black dress pants and a white short-sleeve shirt.
I could spot a glimpse of his ink on the side of his abs through it and warmth rushed to the pit of my stomach, despite my agitation at his distrust.
“Whatever,” I muttered and slid open his phone and froze at the picture staring back at me.
Bas’ screen saver was our selfie from nine months ago when I drove Priest’s Jeep to the beach.
When we got to the beach, I insisted we take a selfie and he appeased me.
He snapped the photo just as I turned to tell him to push the button so the two of us stared at each other when the selfie was taken.
I looked completely and utterly infatuated with him.