11. Chapter Eleven—Cassiel
Chapter Eleven—Cassiel
My eyes burn with lack of sleep, but I don’t close them. I shift in my chair, but I make no move to stand or remove myself from my post.
Only when Carlotta wakes and leaves, will I do so.
Rome: Is she still sleeping?
I type out my reply, lips twisting into a smirk; the man has got it bad.
Not that I can blame him. The redheaded woman tucked up in the California king sized bed before me has certainly caught my attention too.
With the sway of her shapely hips, the biting remarks on her lips and the heavy curve of her tits, she’s hard not look to at or notice.
And don’t get me started on the flaming fire simmering beneath her skin…
I’ve caught a few glimpses of it—the very fire that had her walking into the lion’s den, dressed head-to-toe in a black catsuit I had the urge to rip from her body, to avenge her brother’s untimely death.
The same spitfire had her talking back to Rome, unwilling to back down even though I saw the tremor in her hands and the way she kept touching the secret blade she kept tucked between those tits of hers, which should have been in the pile of weapons outside the door, as if to remind herself of its dangerous presence.
Even last night, when she stalked into Nameless, heading straight for the bar, I saw it.
The fire inside her.
All consuming.
She tries to hide it, to dampen it down, to stamp all over it until it no longer exists—a product of her upbringing, I guess.
But it’s there and nobody can take it away from her no matter how hard they try.
Not even Carlotta herself.
The fire is inside her; wild, untamed, unpredictable.
She’s never been shown how to handle it. A pity, really.
Cristiano had the same fire in him. I saw it, I walked through it with him, by his side as my brother-in-arms. But he knew how to control it.
He knew when to wield it to his advantage to get what he wanted, and he also knew how tightly he had to hold his own leash so as to not self-destruct.
Although, I guess it wasn’t much help in the end.
The same can’t be said for Carlotta.
I can only hope she knows how all-consuming the fire can be. Pretty, but dangerous. Lethal, yet addictive.
So, yes, she has my attention… every last drop of it.
But Rome?
He’s on a whole other level when it comes to Carlotta Bellucci.
He always has been.
Me: Like a log. Have you slept?
Rome: Caught a couple hours
That’s Rome’s code for ‘I slept for an hour, maybe even two, before I woke back up again.’ For as long as I’ve known Rome, which is well over two decades now, he’s always been a servant to insomnia.
Tossing and turning. He’s lucky if he catches a handful of hours before he gets up, heading to use the gym before work.
Although, I would have thought fucking Carlotta’s brains out until she screamed hoarse last night would have tired him out to at least get a little more than two hours sleep, but I guess not.
Me: I’ll be back soon.
I watch the bubbles bounce as Rome types out his reply, but I switch the thing off when I hear Carlotta moan in her slumber. I watch as she rolls onto her back, throwing an arm over her head, causing the blanket to slip down dangerously just before I get an eyeful.
My dick twitches in my pants at the image.
I thought last night was bad, but this is even worse…
At least last night I couldn’t see beyond the door. The sound of them fucking was enough to almost tip me over the edge, making my dick so diamond hard in my pants I felt lightheaded from the rush of blood.
The sound of Rome’s groans, mixed with Carlotta’s sweet whimpers and the slap of their bodies…
Can you really blame a guy for rubbing one out in the hallway at a sex club?
Which reminds me, I need to ask Rome to download the footage from the security cameras and send me a copy before he scrubs it from all feeds.
I bet it would be hot to watch it again, me spilling in my hand, head thumping back against the hardwood door, while I listen to Princess Bellucci scream from the rooftops.
I can’t wait until I can get home and Rome can tell me, in exquisite detail, every little thing he did to her.
I don’t want him to leave a single thing out.
I thought finding my release would satiate my urge to sink myself deep inside the Mafia Princess, but I don’t think I could have been more wrong.
All night, I’ve sat and watch Carlotta sleep oh so peacefully, all the while knowing she’s naked beneath the sheets stained with her and Rome’s release.
I’ve watched her chest rise and fall with each measured breath, I’ve watched the sheets dance about her legs as she snuggled into the blanket, molding her body into a comfortable position, I’ve watched her lashes flutter, delicate slashes of dark brown against the creamy white apple of her cheeks.
My back teeth ache from where I’ve been tightening my jaw, my fingers spasm against the cool metal of the gun in my lap and my eyes burn with lack of sleep and mental images of what the hell Carlotta Bellucci looks like naked.
Are her nipples brown or tinged with a pinkish-hue?
Does she have any secret tattoos, usually covered by her tight-fitting schoolteacher blouses and come-fuck-me-hard pencil skirts?
Is she bare? Waxed or shaved? Or maybe she keeps a cute little landing strip; somewhere I can watch my cum drip through her curls and down her folds?
I’ve asked Rome before, what does she look like, how does she feel?
He never answers. Instead, turning a withering stare on me. Laughing loudly, I’ll tip my head back so he can’t see the worry lines around my eyes, because while Rome has shared every aspect of his life with me since we we’re legal adults, I’m not entirely sure he’s willing to share Carlotta…
Inhaling raggedly, I stretch out my legs in front of me, ignoring the twinge of cramp dancing about my calves and the ache in my balls at the stench of sex still hanging about the air.
My stomach rumbles, crying out at the lack of food I’ve eaten in the last twelve or so hours. I could devour a plate of pancakes right now, with an extra cup of syrup and a shit ton of strawberries.
God, my mouth waters at the very thought. If Carlotta doesn’t wake up soon—
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
I raise my head at the sound of her sweet voice, still gritty with remnants of leftover sleep.
Grinning, I unfurl myself from my seated position, stalking across the room until I reach the bed.
“Welcome back to the land of the living, Princess.” I smirk down at Carlotta, curling my fingers into a fist to resist the need to reach out and brush her hair from her forehead. I wonder if it’s as soft as it looks… “I thought you might sleep the whole day away for a second there.”
Carlotta rubs at her eyes, smearing black mascara beneath her lash line, before she sits up, pulling the blanket up to her chest. “What time is it?”
“Almost eleven.”
“Eleven?!” Her eyes grow wide, hands scrabbling in the sheets for something. “Where the fuck is my phone? I’m late for work, I need—”
“Calm it.” Picking her handbag up from the floor, I toss it to her, listening to the musical jingle of coins residing at the bottom of the beat-up Birkin purse. “I called them already. Told them you were sick.”
Carlotta’s narrowed eyes rise to meet mine. “You rang my place of work?”
I nod.
“And told them I was sick?”
Another nod.
“Who did you speak to?”
I pop my shoulders, perching myself on the edge of the soft mattress. “Some woman named Jane.”
Carlotta pulls the blanket up even further until it hits her chin. “Who did you say you were?”
“A friend. Why?” I chuckle. “Should I have said I was your boyfriend?”
She snorts derisively, shaking her head. “Absolutely fucking not.”
“Why?” I cock a brow. “I’m not that bad looking, am I?”
A small foot pops out from beneath the warm blanket to dig in the bottom of my back. “Stop fishing for compliments; you know you’re hot.”
“So, you think I’m hot?” I nod thoughtfully, unable to stop from grinning. I capture Carlotta’s foot in my grasp, squeezing her heel in warning. “Good to know… the feeling’s mutual, Princess.”
Wiggling, Carlotta tries to slip my hold, but I don’t let her go. Not when I’ve got her where I want her.
“Have you been here all night?”
“What do you think, Princess?”
Carlotta flushes scarlet, but she doesn’t look away. “I’m guessing you probably heard…”
“You screaming until your lungs gave out? It was difficult not to. I think everybody on this floor could hear you.”
Huffing in amusement with enough force to dislodge the red layers of hair framing her heart-shaped face, Carlotta breaks free of my touch with a sharp yank.
I watch her wrap the sheets around her shapely body, swinging her legs over the side of the bed to stand.
“Well… thanks for watching over me while I slept. I—”
“I did promise to protect you, remember?”
Twin patches of pretty pink arise to Carlotta’s cheeks, telling me she remembers in exact detail what happened last night before she and Rome went at it like rabbits.
“Yes…” She swallows, peering down at the trail of her clothes laying on the floor. “I have no idea why you did, either of you, but I do appreciate it.”
“You’ll realize why sooner or later, Princess.”
She blinks at me, all big doe-eyes smudged with last night’s makeup. “That doesn’t sound cryptic at all.”
I pop my shoulders and smile tight lipped. “Some things can’t be rushed. Rome’s secrets are one of them.”
A line appears between the middle of Carlotta’s furrowed brows, but she doesn’t push me for an answer I can’t give her.
Not yet anyway.
Bending to retrieve her bra, blouse and skirt and holding the garments to her heavy chest, Carlotta tips her head towards the door. “Turn around, Cassiel.”
Chuckling to myself, I indulge her, doing as she asks with a grin.
“I’ve heard you cum more times than I can count, but I’m not allowed to see you naked, Princess?”