Chapter 22 Nevaeh
TWENTY-TWO
Nevaeh
Caelian sleeps in late. I haven’t been sleeping well, despite how tired I’ve been. It’s like I can’t turn off my brain. Even when I close my eyes, I’m plagued by vivid thoughts.
As he sleeps by my side, many of them take over in the morning stillness.
Ms. Poitier had insisted she was simply out for a stroll. Nothing was nefarious about her late-night walks. Even at the threat of harm, she didn’t budge. She buckled down and stood ten toes deep in her claim.
I’d managed to advocate for her. Caelian had been too exhausted after a long night for a round of interrogation.
Though part of me also suspects that was largely an excuse on his part—he cares for Ms. Poitier as well, even if his persona won’t let him show it in situations like this.
He didn’t want to bring her harm or else he would’ve done so swiftly, immediately, like he’s done with everyone else who has crossed him.
We still need to get to the bottom of what’s going on.
If Ms. Poitier is telling the truth, that means the evidence was either falsified or misinterpreted. But why else would she place routine calls to Carmine Ziccardi, the Don of the family? Her loyalty should remain with Caelian, particularly at a time where the father and son are warring.
And midnight strolls into the woods?
I’m not sure I can wrap my head around it.
My thoughts drift to the snow globe stowed away. It holds the key that everyone is on the lookout for. Mom and Dad were willing to do anything for that key, so much so they risked my life and betrayed me. Ignazio was never fond of me in the first place.
Both Nero Vorone and Carmine Ziccardi would eliminate me even sooner if they felt it gave them possession of the key.
Has Ms. Poitier discovered I have it and she’s alerted Carmine to this fact? She knows just about everything that happens under this roof. The eyes and ears of the vast estate.
What could possibly be so important so many people are foaming at the mouth to take what I’ve been given?
Mom and Dad always insisted it was for their survival. Some sort of insurance they had to guarantee Nero couldn’t take out Dad. He needed him so long as Dad alone knew the whereabouts. Nero just hadn’t anticipated he’d used his daughter as a means to hide it.
But when I made my choice to protect Caelian and run off with Mom and Ignazio, I was under the impression I was saving everyone. I was helping Mom and Dad escape the clutches of Nero while also ensuring Caelian stayed with the key, giving him leverage and drawing attention away from him.
What if it was never about Mom and Dad’s survival? What if this was always about money? Some get-rich-quick scheme of theirs?
As I lay and listen to the cadence of Caelian’s deep snores, I go searching in the recesses of my mind. I find old memories I haven’t thought about in so long, they almost feel like they aren’t mine.
Memories of being taught by Dad to run if loan sharks with greasy hair and cheap leather jackets ever accosted me on the street about his debts. Techniques by Mom how to slide an item here and there into my pocket at the store then walk out without ever being caught.
I think about the times landlords pounded on our doors and we’d flee through the fire escape, clutching our possessions, as they hurled accusations about back rent at us.
An onslaught of these types of early childhood memories crashes over me like an avalanche. All the times I was a clueless, confused child as we fled from a mess that had been made and had to start over again.
The day they sat me down and explained I had been signed into a contract comes back to me—I hadn’t even understood what they meant at first when they said I’d be going away. I was going to become a part of a dance company and train to be a ballerina.
Among other things.
“For our survival,” Mom had said, patting me on the back. “If you want your father to be safe, it’s what we have to do, honey. We’ve all made sacrifices…”
I clench my eyes shut to block out the memories I’ve buried deep.
I’d accepted their explanations and told myself for years that there was no other choice.
I was getting off easier than most girls sold into the flesh trade.
At least I was training to be a dancer; at least I wouldn’t be married off until a couple years into early adulthood…
But what if it was never necessary? What if they just saw me as yet another con to pull?
“Nevi,” Caelian says, sleep thick in his voice. He’s woken up without me noticing, I’m so deep in my head. He reaches out to stroke my arm and draw my body closer to his. “You’re sniffling in your sleep? What’s bothering you?”
“Hmmm?”
I’m startled by him until I settle into the groove of our bodies pressed together.
Caelian’s already caressing me, cuddling me to him, as if he’s fully aware I’m upset and he wasn’t just sleeping a second ago.
My heart warms at how natural it comes to him, like he must make things better as soon as he notices something’s wrong.
I reach up to stroke his stubbly cheek and give him a good-morning kiss. “I was just thinking about my childhood.”
“About how you were made to leave your parents so young?”
“Sort of… just things that I haven’t…” I pause to take in a breath and figure out what I’m trying to say. “Have you ever blocked out moments from your childhood? Or made yourself forget about them?”
“Yes,” he answers. “Many things. I had a miserable, sick, lonely childhood. It’s better that I have.”
“I have too… more than I realized.”
“Bad things?”
I nod. “My parents aren’t what I’ve always told myself they are. I’ve never really seen it until recently. But it’s making me question just what has been the truth and what’s been lies they’ve fed me.”
“What does your gut say?” His large palms run possessively, though comfortingly, over my hips.
I think on it for a second. “Almost all of it, Cael. I think… almost everything they’ve ever told me has been a lie.”
“You were told the dance company was necessary.”
“For my father’s life.”
Caelian’s wolfish eyes narrow. “It’s possible they bargained you for him. Or other things.”
“The key in the snow globe,” I say. “We have to find out what it opens. Together.”
“Together.” He kisses me on the mouth to reaffirm our plan. “But not today. I have a treatment with Tulio.”
“What about Ms. P? Cael, you can’t—”
“I’m not going to do anything to her yet,” he interrupts. “She’s lying to us. But I’m not convinced she is a traitor. There must be something else.”
“Are you feeling alright? You seemed so exhausted last night. You slept so much.”
“The treatment will help. You have a treatment of your own today. Another appointment with the fertility doctor. I have arranged for them to come to us this time. We’re not taking any more chances going into the city and risking another attempt on your life.”
I’d argue with him about it if I weren’t more concerned about his condition. Caelian tries to come across as strong and powerful… and he is. But he’s also a man. He’s mortal like the rest of us. His illness is a very real threat.
He’d once told me it wasn’t a matter of if but when he succumbed to it…
Our snuggling turns into heavy petting as Caelian seeks to soothe me and I find myself reciprocating. He slips me under him, his hands gliding over the curves of my sore, achy body.
I’m more than just mentally tired from a night struggling to sleep.
My body’s achier than usual, breasts tender and back sore, but as soon as Caelian’s large hands start touching me, little pulses of pleasure make it better.
A moan hums from my throat.
I reach for him, fingers on his nape, and drag his mouth down to mine.
We kiss and grind together. His hands slide under my cotton nightgown and find my panties. I lift my hips for him, a wordless invitation he quickly understands.
The pair is rolled down ’til I’m kicking them off the heel of my foot and Caelian’s positioning himself between my thighs.
He’s taken his cock out, his huge length erect and throbbing in the morning light.
He kisses me deeper as he lines himself up and then slides into my pussy.
A burst of tingles explode inside me. I moan despite myself, mouth dropping open wider against his. My body writhes in answer to his invading mine, hips naturally rocking as I take him in.
He’s so thick and girthy it’ll always be so much to handle.
But always so, so good.
Always just what I need.
Caelian presses his lips harder against mine and grips my hip as he draws his back. He starts stroking into me, setting us at a slow but deep, punctuating pace.
And my achy body welcomes him.
My pussy ripples around his large dick as I whimper and beg for more. Pleasure has started to erase the fatigue, the aches and pains I can only assume are left over from my ballerina training yesterday and my lack of sleep.
Caelian’s kneading hands help—he palms my breasts, massaging the small mounds of flesh, and draws even more cries of pleasure out of me.
His thrusts gain speed, his hips crashing against mine harder the more we work ourselves up.
I run my hands up his chest and shoulders, then stroke his beard, holding his gaze. We’re so focused on each other, nothing else exists except us and our pleasure.
It’s what we both need in this moment as Caelian sinks deep into my pussy and I clench around him. We moan and groan, panting for air in the final moments before the crash.
Caelian gets there first, planting himself deep and releasing a feral grunt as he lets go. He crushes his lips to mine, his dick twitching inside me.
I close my eyes and follow him over the edge into bliss. Warmth floods me, spreading from my pussy to the rest of my body. For those few seconds, I’m enveloped in hot pleasure, pulsing all over.
When it passes, Caelian kisses my brow. “That was the right way to wake up this morning.”
I laugh softly. “Maybe we don’t need a fertility doctor. We just need to lock ourselves in this room for a few days.”
“That’s not a bad idea…”
Caelian and I finally get out of bed and begin our day with hot showers. From there we enjoy a light breakfast on the terrace and then go our separate ways. I make him promise one last time that he won’t hurt Ms. Poitier and he advises me to behave during my appointment with the fertility doctor.
We won’t see each other again until this evening for dinner.
I dress myself upstairs, feeling odd about Ms. Poitier’s absence. Every day since I’ve lived on Caelian’s estate, she’s been by my side almost at all times. She helps pick out my outfits and styles my hair. Doing it without her feels strange considering she’s still under the same roof.
She’s just locked in a cell.
I head to the parlor in the west wing where I’m supposed to be meeting the doctor.
“There you are,” Matteo says, coming from down the hall. “I’ve been trying to track you down. Guess that’s what happens when there’s no Ms. P to keep tabs on you. The doctors have just arrived. They’re in the den in the east wing.”
“The east wing? Are you sure?”
“’Course I’m sure. That’s what I said, didn’t I?”
Matteo redirects me in the opposite direction.
The house is so massive sometimes it feels like I’m wandering a museum instead of a home.
The east wing of Caelian’s estate has been cobwebbed and unused since long before I moved in.
Portions of it he’s begun to renovate, like the dance studio he had put in for me.
The drawing room has yet to be given such treatment.
I step through the doors only to find the room empty.
But the small team of fertility doctors I’ve been treated by are nowhere to be found.
I turn around to face Matteo with a question on the tip of my tongue, but he makes his intentions unmistakably clear—he’s smirking as he quickly thrusts a sack over my head.
Making everything go dark.