29. Deirdre
Deirdre
W hen I get home from class and head upstairs to find Elio, I stop with a jolt to see that he isn’t there. I stare at the empty bed, freshly made by Rosa, panic rising faster than I know what to do with. I set my bag down and spin on my heel, throwing myself right back out of the room to find him.
I almost take out Doctor Morelli as I do so, who’s currently walking down the hall. He catches me with a pair of strong, steady hands around the elbow and makes sure I don’t fall before letting go.
“Sorry!” I say quickly. “I’m looking for Elio. He’s not in bed. Is he OK?”
“OK,” the doctor responds with a small smile. “I say he can get up a little bit.” His smile grows, turns into a grin. “Strong boy. Eh? Sometimes staying in bed… It’s worse than being sick.”
“You’re telling me,” I say on a sigh, relieved. “I can’t even believe he stayed in bed like he was told for as long as he did.”
“Because of you,” the doctor says without hesitation.
“What?” I cock my head at him.
“He wants to marry you. Wants to live. Never listened to me that much before. Non frega un cazzo . Eh… Normally, he doesn’t give a – pardoni – doesn’t give a shit.”
This body ain’t worth shit, Songbird.
“Well, I’m glad he does now,” I say quietly. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“No.”
“OK. Actually. I have a favour to ask you. Or not really a favour. I…” My sentence breaks off into embarrassed silence.
I cross my arms, face throbbing with warmth.
I peek around Doctor Morelli to see a soldier in the usual place at the top of the stairs and I lower my voice. “I want to get on birth control.”
I got my period while Elio was sick with his fever, thank God.
Let’s just say that I’m pretty invested in making sure that it comes again next month. And it’s not like I can just wander out of here anytime I want and make an appointment at a local clinic.
But Doctor Morelli doesn’t nod or instantly agree the way I’d expected him to.
He hesitates, runs a hand through his grey hair, then says, “Gotta ask the boss.”
“I… hold on. What? Did I just hear you right?” I say, absolutely flabbergasted. “I know Elio is in charge of just about everything around here, but I have to ask his permission to go on fucking birth control?”
“Not you,” he says quickly, as if that’s comforting. “Me. I must ask the boss before I can give to you.”
“That’s… That’s even worse! You’re a doctor! You shouldn’t have to ask a person with no medical training for permission before you administer an important drug to someone else!”
“Not just someone else,” he replies. “Boss’ wife. You see?”
“No! I don’t!”
Well, I’m certainly not being quiet now. The soldier at the stairs is craning his neck and frowning at us. His attention is torn away, though, by the sound of the front door opening and then closing again. I can’t make out the words, but I catch the rumble of Elio’s voice.
A heady combination of relief and rage fill me at his return.
“Don’t bother asking him,” I tell the doctor, already heading for the top of the stairs. “I’m going to do it myself. Right now .”
I jog down the stairs. From here, I can see the door and entryway. Curse is striding away, heading for somewhere else in the house. It looks like he’s carrying a cardboard box, but I don’t get a clear view. Plus, it’s his older brother that I’m focused on right now.
It’s hard to remain righteous in my rage when I see him. There’s an intense, drawn look on his face, and my steps falter a little. I wonder if he’s hurting. If he feels worse than before because he went out.
He’s so lost in whatever emotion or sensation he’s processing that he doesn’t even notice me until my foot hits the floor at the bottom of the stairs.
His head cranks up, his eyes lock on mine, and then he’s in instant motion, coming straight for me with the singular, relentless drive of a torpedo.
He barely even stops when he reaches me and crushes me against his chest. It’s only the hard bars of his arms around my back that keep me from falling backwards.
“Songbird,” he murmurs against my hair, bending and breathing in deeply. I can feel him making a vicious fist in the back of my shirt with his non-splinted hand.
“What is it?” I ask, my earlier panic returning with twice as much force, bringing with it an acrid taste on my tongue.
“Are you feeling worse? Are you in pain?” I shift and pull in his arms, ignoring his growl of complaint and the way he tries to drag me even closer.
I manage to get one of my hands up from where it was jammed between us and I slap it, harder than I mean to, against his forehead.
A shuddering sigh escapes me. His skin is blissfully cool, kissed by the winter air outside. No hint of returning fever.
“What is it?” I ask again, because he’s still holding me in a way that makes me feel like something’s wrong.
“Nothing,” he bites out after a long pause. “Just learned some shit today I wish I hadn’t.”
Before I can ask him more about that, I hear Doctor Morelli addressing Elio in Italian from behind me.
“I’m good,” Elio replies in English. “It was good to get out there. Stretch my legs a little. Already feel even better than I did this morning.”
“Good,” I say, yanking myself out of his arms. “Now that I know you’re alright, I can be mad at you.”
Elio’s brows rise, an expression of dark amusement shaping his mouth.
“Oh?”
“Yes! Why did you tell Doctor Morelli I can’t go on birth control?”
His brows fly even higher before crashing down.
“I don’t recall specifically telling him that,” he says with a frown.
“He said he needs to get your permission before he can give it to me!”
“Yes,” Elio says, slowly, as if explaining something to a child. “Everything that happens to you happens by my say-so, Songbird. And Doctor Morelli reports to me, not to you.”
My hands curl into fists at my side, as if I can punch some good sense into this man.
“So, what?” I hiss through gritted teeth. “If something happened to me and you weren’t here, what then? What if I was on the brink of death? He wouldn’t be allowed to even give me a fucking bandage without calling you first? He’d just let me bleed out on the floor, then?”
A look so black and thunderous contorts Elio’s face that, for the first time in a long time, I feel a frisson of fear when I look at him.
“Do not,” he bites out, “even fucking joke about that, Deirdre.”
“Who says that I’m joking?”
Doctor Morelli, clever guy that he is, makes himself suddenly scarce as Elio locks his uninjured hand around my wrist. Elio starts walking, dragging me along with him. “We’ll talk about this somewhere else.”
I expect him to try to pull me up the stairs, but he doesn’t. It’s as if the bedrooms are too far away and he wants to hash this out right here, right now. Fine by me. He opens the door to his office, shoves me inside, then slams the door behind us.
I stumble, then spin around to face him, already sucking in a huge breath to tell him off. But that breath stutters right out of me when Elio wraps his fingers around my throat and slams his mouth to mine.
Surprise, anger, and desire all melt together until I can’t tell them apart. Elio’s mouth is hot and urgent on mine, and there’s no way I can remain closed to him. My lips part under the onslaught, and he doesn’t hesitate even for a moment before shoving his tongue inside. Claiming.
His hand slides down from my throat to my waist, and before I can react I’m being turned towards the desk. The cool leather of Elio’s hand finds the back of my neck, exerting a gentle warning of pressure.
“Bend over.”
“No,” I seethe. But even as I say it, even as furious as I am, there’s terrible, wanton warmth blooming between my legs.
I try to buck out of his grip, but he’s right behind me, his massive body caging me in against the desk.
The wood chews into my hipbones and something else hard grinds against my ass.
I gasp and moan, then slam my treacherous mouth shut.
“Watch yourself, Songbird,” Elio murmurs against the sensitive skin of my ear. “Just because I only have one good hand doesn’t mean that I can’t punish you exactly the way you need right now. Now bend the fuck over or I will make you .”
His fingers massage the base of my skull, exerting tender tension that I know can turn hard and brutal any moment.
He can make me bend over. He can make me do anything he wants to.
Even make me care about him. And that’s the most damning part.
Breathing heavily but trying to hide it, I hinge at the hips until my breasts and belly are mashed against the smooth wood of the desk. Needing something to hold onto, I grip the far edge of the desk, my knuckles white with pressure.
“Fuck. Love seeing you wear that ring,” Elio groans as he tugs my leggings and panties down to my knees.
I raise my eyes, chin hitting wood, to see the sparkle of it against my curled fist. I’m suddenly reminded of my second night with Elio, when he took me to the gala and made me wear a literal collar of diamonds.
This is a type of collar too. An even more permanent and meaningful one.
One that, ultimately, I have chosen.
My whole body jolts with painfully needy awareness when the smooth, naked tip of Elio’s cock slides against my pussy.
“You’re already wet,” he breathes heavily from behind me. I hold my breath, scrunching my eyes shut in shameful anticipation. I don’t even mean to, but I rise up on the balls of my feet, already trying to angle myself for him to enter me.
“Oh, Songbird,” Elio coos darkly, swirling his tip against me, soaking himself with my wetness. “I’ve been neglecting this pretty, greedy little pussy, haven’t I?” Gloveless fingers reach beneath his cock and between my legs from behind, circling my clit until I’m shaking.
“Tell me,” he says, his voice going hard and rough, “did you want me while I was stuck in bed? Did you pet this sweet little pussy while imagining my cock sliding into you?”