Chapter Seven
Damiano
That kiss… It was raw, genuine. It has shifted something deep inside me, something my mind can’t quite comprehend.
It has changed me on a fundamental level.
I stand there, frozen, staring at the door she has disappeared through, my chest heaving with every ragged breath, my mind a whirlwind of confusion.
It took every ounce of my willpower to let her go when she pushed me back. I wasn’t done with her. Not by a long shot. My body is still screaming for her, urging me to take her, to claim her as mine. I want to follow her inside, but I have to get my raging boner under control.
Fuck.
What is it about this little flower that draws me in like a moth to the purest light? One look into her green eyes and I was a goner.
Maybe I need to fuck her out of my system. But how am I supposed to, when she bolts every time we meet? And right now, distraction is the last thing I need.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
But who am I kidding? I don’t want to just fuck her and be done with her. I want her sharp mind, her wit, the fire I sense simmering beneath her sass.
For a brief moment tonight, I forgot I was the head of the famiglia. She made me smile, laugh, her quirky mind cutting through the heavy weight of my responsibilities. Never have I been so liberated from the constant pressure.
More than that, the darkness that’s always coiled inside me, ready to strike, is subdued. My soul, usually consumed by shadows, is soothed by her presence. Her light tempers my darkness, and I find myself craving it, needing it, aching to bask in its warmth.
And in the recesses of my black soul, I know, more than anything, I crave her complete surrender. I need her soul bound to mine, her body under and around mine, her light in my palm for me to enjoy. And only me.
Fuck this. I am going to make her mine.
With that resolve in mind, I walk back into the ballroom, but I know right away that she has already left. The room feels bare and cold despite the people milling around.
I send a quick text to the surveillance team to make sure she left safely. Their reply is almost immediate—she left with one of my waiting drivers.
Ask the driver for an update as soon as she is home and let me know immediately, I instruct them, then pocket my phone, pushing down the restlessness.
* * * *
The next day, Luc and I are sitting in his car in front of her workplace.
He looks over to me from the driver’s seat. “What exactly are we doing here?” It sounds more like an accusation than a question.
I shrug.
Fuck if I know.
“She is a sweet little thing. Didn’t have an easy start in life.” He pushes on and I want to slam his damn face on the steering wheel.
“I fucking read Teo’s file,” I snap. “There is nothing you know about her that I don’t.”
I am losing it.
He holds up his hands appeasingly.
“Okay, okay. No need to be so prickly. I just hope you know what you are doing.”
“It is time I settle down and find a sweet and gentle wife to give me an heir.” That is the reason I came up with. The logical and civilized version.
Luc eyes me warily for a few seconds. Then he smirks and claps me on the shoulder.
Fucker.
“Well then, let’s go woo your wife.”
The bell on the door chimes when we walk in and we are greeted by a cheery “Hello!”
The receptionist is young and bubbly. Her smile falters somewhat, her eyes growing bigger when she takes us in. “Good morning, gentlemen. Are you here for, uh…”—she looks around our feet for our nonexistent animal—“an appointment?”
“We are here to meet Ms. Bianchi. It will take only a minute.”
Her face brightens. “Sure. She is with a patient. I could call her to come out but she should be finished in five.” The last words sound more like a question.
“It’s all right. We will be waiting for her to finish.” Luc sends her a flirty smile and she blushes.
She motions toward an adjoining waiting room with glass walls and mostly empty chairs. We sit awkwardly opposite an old lady who has a cat in a pet carrier. She eyes us curiously and smiles.
Don’t talk to us, don’t fucking talk to us.
“Hello, gentlemen. Are you here for a pet?”
Goddammit.
I am in no mood to engage in straining small talk so I let Luc take the lead. He loves to talk and his easygoing personality and golden-boy looks make him the ladies’ favorite.
“Good morning, ma’am. No pet, unfortunately. We are here to meet a friend. And who might this charming creature be?”
She lifts the carrier so we can see the cat inside. “This is Pixie,” she announces proudly.
“And what’s the cat’s name?” Luc sends her one of his patented winks.
She blushes and starts giggling loudly. Fuck, kill me now!
“Silly! This is Pixie. I’m Glenda.”
“Well, Glenda, it is a pleasure meeting you and Pixie. This here”—he motions to me—“is my friend Dan, and I am Luke.”
“Nice to meet you, Luke and Dan. You are such dashing young men, and so well-behaved. And who is this friend of yours that you came to meet?”
“Her name is Lily. She is a vet here.”
“Oh, Lily! We are here to see her too, aren’t we, sweetie?” she asks her fucking cat.
My ears are perking up at the mention of Lily’s name.
“Such a nice young lady,” Glenda continues, her voice filled with affection. “She loves animals. I mean, they all do, of course. But Lily… She’s so caring and patient with them. Pixie absolutely adores her. She can’t help but jump all over her every time she’s near.”
Same, Pixie. Same.
Suddenly there are footsteps in the hallway leading to the examination area and Lily emerges. She is wearing a scrub top over her jeans, her long auburn hair up in a ponytail. Her face is free of makeup and she is stunning.
Did my dead heart just kick in my chest?
She is talking to a lady, leading her and her dog, a doe-eyed spaniel, to the receptionist. Then she crouches and scratches the dog behind its ears. Her smile is relaxed, her soft voice drifts to the waiting room and I realize that we are all staring her way, drawn to her.
Lily straightens, her smile serene, and the receptionist tells her something that has her eyes flying to the glass-walled waiting room, seeing us at last.
Her shocked expression morphs into a confused frown. Then something I wasn’t expecting happens—she stares at me with unconcealed fury.