Chapter Five
EMELIA
I cried the entire way back to the penthouse. I cannot remember the last time Nico and I had a fight. One to this degree, I don’t think we ever have. The last time I felt this way is when Nico held a gun to his head threatening to end it all when he thought I took my family’s side. I’m shaking, the warm car doing nothing to bring me comfort. I watch the passing buildings and pedestrians on the way, and it’s all starting to blur.
Farren and James pull up and we all climb out. My somber face stays low. The ride here and the elevator up, was silent. I prepare to be greeted by the boys and wipe away the tears from my face, plastering on a smile when the elevator dings.
“Mamma!” They come barreling over to me just as I step out.
“Hello, my loves, how was school? Were you good for Mrs. Nelly?” Elena, our nanny comes around the corner, her arm full of toys. She looks like they put her through it. I’m not surprised. Her brunette hair is falling from its clip and wildly into her face and she’s panting.
“Mrs. Valiente, I am so sorry! I was trying to pick up the mess before you got home.”
“It’s all right, sweetie. I can take it from here. Thank you.” She lets out a sigh of relief.
We only use her on occasions where Nico and I are at events, or both away doing things for Nico’s business and date nights. Enough time between can make one forget just how wild and carefree my boys are.
“We were, she even gave us the golden stickers on the fridge tracker.” We started tracking days when all boys passed their lesson of the day. They live for it and it’s the most homely thing about our penthouse. The fridge is covered in art, pictures, and magnets the boys collect, and I admit it is my favorite art in our home.
“Good job, my loves. What do we want to do this afternoon?” I need to take my mind off Nico. The cure to that is my children. They come first and are always able to make me smile, even when my world is upside down.
“We are going to the aquarium with Giulio, Farren, and James!” Luca smiles up at my guards. I turn and quizzically implore with a look.
“Giulio called and said, per Mr. Valiente’s request, we three would be taking the boys to the aquarium for the rest of the afternoon.”
“I see.” My stomach turns. I feel like I may be sick. He is going to cage me in and not let me out of his sight. Great. Turning back, I look at the three sets of eyes looking up at me.
“Papa!”
My back stiffens the second the elevator slides open, and the boys all leave me.
“ I miei figli . How was today?” His soothing voice adds salt to my wounds.
I hate that its roughness meets soft with the boys and worse? It melts me inside out. If I turn and face him, I will break down again and the kids will see there is a problem. One thing Nico and I agreed on before Nico the second came; we wouldn’t fight or ever indicate that there was danger looming. They are too young to learn about all of that still.
“I love you boys and you be safe. Mamma needs to use the restroom,” I say over my shoulder, the tears getting ready to fall.
“Love you!” they holler after me, and I rush to the stairs and head to our bedroom. I need a minute.
Once inside, I rush to the closet and sit on the floor against the middle island of drawers. Finally, I let those errant tears return and have their pesky way. Nico looked through me today. He couldn’t see past the rage and see that all I wanted was to explore myself and him more. To end the remaining reminders of all the women he experienced things with. Yes, there are a million other times he has been with women outside of that club, but that is his business, a place he goes to, day in and day out and every time he passes those rooms or has to god forbid step in one, it won’t be me who crosses his mind. It sounds so foolish, but it really isn’t. Nico isn’t just a man, and I am not just Emelia. We are extensions of each other and our mutual possession knows no bounds, at least I didn’t think it did until today.
“ Amore mia .” Nico’s voice fills our large walk-in closet and the sob rips violently from my chest.
“No. I can’t look at you right now. I don’t even think I can speak to you. Please leave me alone.” I drop my head in my hands and cry some more. The feelings inside me are incomprehensible. There is a hollow feeling I have never had since becoming Nico’s. It feels like a limb was severed.
“You know I won’t let that happen. You and I can’t avoid this.”
“We can and I plan to for as long as I can. You really hurt my soul today, Nico.” I whisper the tail end of this statement. The words were hard enough to get out, as if a hand were tightly around my neck.
“I know and I see that now. But you need to know why, just like I need to know why you wanted to be in those rooms.” He counters, staying still in the doorframe. I chanced a look up at the mirror and caught a glimpse of those green eyes. Shit. Shit. Shit. At forty-two, he looks even more rugged, aged and experienced than he did at thirty-two when we married and I don’t know how. When I married him, I despised him but had never seen a more handsome, sexy, and rugged man. We are aging together. I am still in my early thirties, but we are supposed to grow old together and that brings me peace usually, but the wedge is so far deep between us, that I can’t help but hurt when looking at him.
“What does it matter? You didn’t care then, and you only care now because you what? Pity me?” I scoff, wiping at my tears.
He growls, “I don’t pity you. I am hurting because my wife is hurting, and I caused it. You said I wanted to look at other women, Emelia. You looked so fucking hurt, like you believed that.”
I stand in a rush and wipe my cheeks more.
“Well, what is it? You are not wanting those memories to be stolen from you, the ones that happened in that room? Or you’re embarrassed for me to be seen there in that way? Which is it, Nico? Go ahead. Spit it out!” I yell, and he rounds the island, gaining on me and in my unpreparedness, I step back and hit the mirror.
“What the fuck is in that head of yours and why are you making up these fucking lies, Emelia! I am sure as hell not embarrassed of you. I show you off like a goddamn prize. What about the night you decided to test me so badly, I fucked you with my gun above all those men and women? So, I am calling your bluff. What do you want?” he hollers, wrapping his hands possessively around my neck.
“You! I wanted you to show me what things I have never had before! To explore me in ways that don’t make me feel like you have to because I am your fucking wife! Treat me like a whore. Like I mean nothing to you. I wanted to be every version of myself, for myself and for you! Your whore, your fling, your mistakes, and your fucking wife!” My chest heaves up and down rapidly, and my skin is ablaze. The room feels like a million degrees, but hell, did it feel good to get that off my chest.
“There it is, oh my wife. Such a good girl. I knew you knew better than to think those things about us,” he coos at me, releasing one hand from my neck and petting my hair as I cry harshly.
I nod and completely fall apart in front of him. What overcame me these past few days? I don’t know but I do know that I had to do this. I need this. I need to try this with my husband.
“Shh, good girl. Let it all out.” He continues to soothe me, and I work at calming down.
“Emelia, we have done all the things those rooms entail. But I understand your needs. You just had to tell me. We can do them in our home. Together.” My face drops. He isn’t getting it.
“Damn you!” I push off him and head to the bedroom, needing some space.
“What? Wife, you don’t run from me unless I tell you to,” he grumbles, coming after me. I scoff, almost to the door.
“Emelia! Stop!” His loud voice bellows out and I would jump but my roar is just as fucking ferocious.
“Why won’t you let us go in those rooms!”
“Because I never fucking used them! And I will not diminish us by taking you into them! You want to be fucked like a careless whore, I can do that, but there has to be a boundary because at the end of the day you are my wife, and I do fucking respect and love you, Emelia Valiente!”
What? No. How did he? Wait. My mind goes a mile a minute. He had to try those rooms. There is no world where Nico didn’t use his business for his pleasure. I refuse to believe it. But wait.
He pierces me with a soul-crushing gaze while his chest rises and falls, his face and neck red in fury.
“Nico?” My voice softens as does my approach. He isn’t lying. He never used those rooms.
“I don’t mix my business with pleasure as much as you think. Have I fucked some of those women at hotels, yes, but I didn’t need the rooms.” His words are still harsh, though intended not to be.
“You didn’t want to?” He shakes his head. “Why?” I step a bit closer to him and he lets out an incredulous sound.
“Damn it, Amore mia . I’m the fucking head of the goddamn Mafia. I cut out a man’s fucking tongue yesterday. And you have me by the goddamn throat. Because those rooms were for men who seek something more. A connection and I had no desire for connection until I had you. Until I fucking tasted you.”
He is on me, cupping my face and taking me in an all-consuming kiss. He steals the words I was going to say back with his bruising force. I cry against his full lips and deadly touch. He squeezes my neck with one hand and violently grabs the fat on my hip. Shit. It feels so good. His hard cock is pressing into my upper stomach. I am so much shorter than him at five-five.
But above all. Above the touches and this heated kiss, his words hold all the lust in the room. Nico fucked, but never sought out love or tried to find a connection. He’s only ever wanted me.
“Take me. Do whatever you want with me.” I cup his face as I peel my lips away from him.
“No. No fucking way. I have something much fucking better. Pack a bag for the night, Emelia. I will be in my office. Do not come out until I get you.” He retreats fast, and I’m bereft.
Wait? What just happened? I look around the room, my hand touching my lips, still feeling him there. Given the way he kissed me and the look in his eyes when he left, I can only imagine he wants me to pack one thing.
The most scandalous skin-baring things I own.