Chapter 29 #2
"That's right," I murmur in her ear. "Stay quiet. Don't want to wake your sister."
She whimpers against her palm. But she doesn't stop moving. Doesn't stop riding me like I'm the only thing keeping her alive.
Her walls flutter around me. Tighten. She's close again. I can feel it.
"You're going to come again," I tell her. "On my cock this time."
She nods frantically. Her movements become erratic. Desperate.
I slide one hand down her stomach. Find her clit. Press.
She shatters.
Antonella
My legs give out the moment we cross the threshold into Bruno's room.
He catches me before I hit the floor. His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me against his chest as he wheels us both inside.
"I've got you," he murmurs against my hair.
I can barely keep my eyes open. My body feels like it's made of water. Every muscle loose. Every nerve ending still humming from what he did to me.
What we did to each other.
Bruno kicks the door shut behind us. The sound echoes through the room.
His room is different from mine.
The bed is lower.
So we came back to his room instead.
Bruno wheels us toward the bed. I'm still draped across his lap, too exhausted to move. Too content to care.
He lifts me. Sets me on the mattress like I weigh nothing.
I sink into the sheets. They smell like him.
Bruno transfers himself from the wheelchair to the bed beside me. The movement is smooth now. Practiced. He doesn't try to hide it from me anymore.
I curl into his side. Press my face against his chest. Feel his heartbeat steady beneath my cheek.
For a long moment, neither of us speaks.
Then Bruno's hand finds my hair. Strokes through the tangled strands.
"I spoke with your father."
My body goes rigid.
"What?"
"Eraldo." Bruno's voice is calm. Measured. "I spoke with him tonight. Before I came to your room."
I push myself up on one elbow. Stare at him in the darkness.
"You saw my father? Is he okay? Is he—"
"He's fine." Bruno's hand moves to my shoulder. Squeezes. "He's going back to New York. He'll be more... communicative now. With you and your siblings."
I search his face. Try to read what he's not saying.
"What did you do?"
"Nothing you need to worry about."
"Bruno—"
"He understands his responsibilities now." Bruno's jaw tightens. "That's all you need to know."
I want to push. Want to demand answers. Want to know exactly what Bruno said to make my father suddenly willing to answer his phone after days of silence.
But I'm so tired.
So incredibly tired.
My father has been a weight on my shoulders for years.
I don't want to think about him right now.
I don't want to think about anything.
I let my head fall back against Bruno's chest. Close my eyes.
"Thank you," I whisper.
His hand resumes stroking my hair. "You don't need to thank me."
"I do." I press closer to him. "Whatever you said to him... thank you."
Bruno doesn't respond. Just holds me tighter.
The silence stretches between us. Comfortable. Safe.
I'm almost asleep when Bruno speaks again.
"Is there anything you want?"
I blink. "What?"
"Anything you want that you don't have." His voice is quiet. Almost hesitant. "Anything you need."
I consider the question. Turn it over in my mind.
What do I want?
What do I need?
The answer comes to me slowly. Rising up from somewhere deep inside.
"I want to work."
Bruno's hand stills in my hair. "Work?"
"Yes." I push myself up again. Look at him. "I want a job. Something to do. Something that's mine. I want to earn money."
Bruno stares at me for a long moment.
Then he laughs.
The sound startles me. It's not cruel. Not mocking. But it's definitely amused.
"Absolutely not."
I frown. "What do you mean, absolutely not?"
"I mean no." Bruno's lips twitch. "You're not getting a job."
"Why not?"
"Because you don't need one."
"I need money, Bruno." I sit up fully now. Cross my arms over my chest. "I need to do things. Buy things. I can't just sit around this compound all day doing nothing."
"You won't be doing nothing." Bruno reaches for me. Tries to pull me back down. "You'll be doing me."
I swat his hand away. "I'm serious."
"So am I."
"Bruno—"
"Antonella." He catches my wrist. Holds it firmly. "Unless you forgot, you're married to me."
"I'm aware."
"Then you should also be aware that you have more money than you could ever imagine."
I stare at him. "What?"
"You're a Sartori now." Bruno's thumb traces circles on my wrist. "My wife. Everything I have is yours. Every account. Every asset. Every property."
"I don't want your money."
"It's not my money." His grip tightens. "It's our money. Yours and mine."
"That's not—" I shake my head. "That's not the same thing."
"It's exactly the same thing."
"No, it isn't." I pull my wrist free. "I want to earn something. Build something. Have something that's mine because I worked for it, not because I married into it."
"You want independence."
"Yes."
"You want to prove you're more than a transaction."
My throat tightens. "Yes."
Bruno is quiet for a long moment. His gaze holds mine. Searching. Assessing.
"The answer is still no."
"Bruno—"
"You're not getting a job." He reaches for me again. This time I let him pull me down. "But we can discuss... alternatives."
"What kind of alternatives?"
"Tomorrow." He tucks me against his side. Pulls the blankets over us both. "We'll talk about it tomorrow."
"You're just saying that to make me stop arguing."
"Is it working?"
I want to say no. Want to keep pushing. Keep fighting.
But my eyes are so heavy. My body so warm. His arms so solid around me.
"Fine," I mumble against his chest. "Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," he agrees.
I fall asleep before I can argue further.