Chapter 19
CHIARA
My eyes fly open as though someone has dragged me out from the clutches of sleep. Gripping my comforter, I hold it close, refusing to give away the last few minutes of shut-eye.
It took me a long time to drift off after I left his room. Between losing control of my feelings for him, coupled with the fear of the unknown, I was a wreck.
I keep wondering who my father and uncles killed for Brian to hate them so much. Will I really pay the price for their sins? Will I be dead when this is all over?
And who the hell is Brian Smith? He has to have ties to some sort of organized criminal faction. He’s probably cut from the same cloth my father is, running legitimate businesses combined with the not-so-legal kind.
I sit up, my feet swinging off the bed as I rub the tiredness away from my eyes. Glancing at the clock, I can’t believe it’s noon. It feels like I’ve barely slept. I’m not one of those people who needs a lot of hours of sleep to function.
I quickly change into a black tank top and tight black leggings. Black is my favorite color. On a rare day, I’ll add in some color.
I wonder how Brian is feeling today.
And why the hell do I care?
He doesn’t give a shit about you, so stop worrying about him.
My stomach growls. I hope there’s something to eat. Maybe Sonia made those crepes again.
Reaching for the door, I pull it open, heading for the stairs, but before I do, I tiptoe a few feet toward Brian’s room. It’s still closed. I lean closer, edging my ear nearer.
Silence.
He’s probably still asleep. Who wouldn’t be, after the night I’m sure he had?
I walk toward the stairs, going down very quietly so as not to wake him. Once I’m downstairs, I forget where the kitchen is for a moment, but then I remember. Why does a single man need a home this big?
Stepping into the kitchen, I find Sonia washing tomatoes by the sink.
“Good morning, dear. Would you like some breakfast, or would you prefer to wait for lunch?”
“Breakfast would be great. I’m kind of starving.”
“Of course.” She smiles cheerfully, her hair held up tightly in a bun. “I wrapped up a plate for you after Mr. uh…Smith ate this morning.”
“Wait, he’s up?”
“Oh, yes. He’s in his study, and doesn’t wish to be disturbed.”
How the hell is he functioning?
She goes into the fridge, taking out a white plate wrapped in foil. “I’ve made some crepes since they’re his favorite, as well as some sausage. Does that sound good?”
“I’m not picky. Whatever you have is fine. And your crepes are amazing. He gave me some when he, um—brought me breakfast in bed one day.”
I have a feeling “while he held me hostage in his room” wouldn’t go over very well.
“That’s very sweet.”
Ha! Lady, you have no idea.
I suppress an exaggerated laugh, skimming my hand past my lips.
She removes the foil, tossing it in the trash before placing the dish into the microwave. “Mr. Smith doesn’t entertain women in the house. You must be someone special.”
“Oh, I’m special all right,” I mutter, more to myself.
Once it’s warm, she hands me the plate and returns to her tomatoes.
“I was thinking a steak salad with some sweet potato fries for lunch,” she says over her shoulder.
“That sounds…” The rest of the words are caught in my throat as an idea forms. A great idea if I can execute it properly.
“You know, I was thinking, how about you take the day off? I can make Brian lunch and dinner as a thank-you for everything he’s done for me.”
That rat bastard. Maybe I can poison him?
“What a wonderful idea!” she exclaims, turning to me as she wipes her hands on her white apron. “He’s such a lovely man. It’s so nice to see someone equally lovely in his life.”
“Oh, yes. He’s very lovely.”
If by lovely, she means insane, sure.
“How about we don’t tell him about this?” I throw in, a huge grin spreading from cheek to cheek. “I want it to be a nice surprise.”
“He will love it!” She looks genuinely excited, and I now feel bad for being a liar.
“Could you maybe give me some directions? I’m not really the best cook.” I twist my lips shyly as she laughs.
“Of course I can.”
She proceeds to give me step-by-step instructions, and I hope I can remember all of it.
“Can you also show me where the plates and things are? Then you can go have a spa day or something.”
“Me? Spa day? Oh, goodness, no.” She dismisses the idea with a wave of her hand. “I’m going to go see my daughter and spend the day with my grandkids. She just had a baby a month ago, her third, and she could really use the help.”
Suddenly, tears prickle at the edge of my eyes.
“Are you okay, dear?” Her brows hunch over as she places her hand on top of mine.
A burning ache crawls up my body, centering in my chest. My mom and I will never have these moments. She’ll probably never meet my kids if I have any. She’ll never be there for me at all.
“Chiara?” Sonia asks again. “You’re crying.”
A broken laugh falls out of me. “I’m sorry.”
Wiping under my eyes, I try to fake it, but it’s no use. The tears douse my fingers.
“Don’t you be sorry.” She pats my hand with concern written over her kind eyes. “If you ever need an ear, I’m here. I may be old, but they still work.”
“I have no doubt,” I add. “Well, you have fun with your family. We’ll be fine here.”
“Those kids keep me on my old-lady toes, that’s for sure.” She removes her apron. “Let me throw this into the hamper, then show you where everything is.”
I follow her as she walks out to the laundry room, which I come to see is located behind a closed door in the same hallway where Brian had me up against the wall.
She places the apron into an empty wicker basket, then closes the door.
We tread back into the kitchen, and she shows me around before gathering her things to leave.
“Well, I’ll be going now. My phone number is on the fridge in case you need me.”
“Thank you,” I say politely before she heads for the foyer.
Rushing back into the kitchen, I start on lunch, taking out the steak she had in the fridge and slicing it on one of the cutting boards she had out. Hopefully, I can manage without burning anything.
I figure if Brian and I share an intimate meal or two together, he’ll warm up to me. There’s this strong carnal connection between us, and I need to light the fire. I need to lead him into the flames.
Placing the seasoned chopped potatoes into a pan, I turn on the oven before putting them inside. After they’re halfway done, I proceed to fry up some chopped-up steak and cut the tomatoes and cucumbers while it’s cooking. Before I have a chance to finish, a heavy crash of footsteps comes nearer.
“Sonia, I’ll be—” Brian’s voice cuts off when his confused expression lands on me.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asks, irritation marking his words. “Where’s Sonia?”
I grin through his unhappiness. “I sent her home. I wanted to cook us a meal as a thank-you for not killing me yet.”
I turn off the stove, noticing the steak is already too black to be edible.
Why did I even bother? I don’t know how to cook at all.
His jaw flexes as he pins me with an angry stare.
“Did I tell you to do that?” His tone splashes with frustration as he takes a single menacing step closer. “Did I ask you to send my staff home? Who the fuck do you think you are? This isn’t a hotel or your home.”
His body is closer now, and with a single step, he’s in front of me. He grips my chin in between two fingers and lifts my face up to the fiery pits of hell within his gaze.
“You’re nothing more than a helpless little girl I’m using to get what I need. So stop getting comfortable where you don’t belong.”
The back of my nose burns from the cruelty. And as his eyes continue to hold mine, I feel the ache of the tears filling my gaze.
Of course this was a stupid plan. Why did I think this man would ever like me enough to want me? He hates me as much as he hates my father. That much is clear now.
I grit my teeth, my rage-filled gaze sharper than the knife I was just using. “Fuck you, Brian. I’m so damn sorry for trying to make this tolerable for the both of us. I’m so fucking sorry eating a meal I made is so inconceivable to you.”
He peers down blankly at me now, his Adam’s apple vibrating as he swallows, his eyes never leaving mine. We are at a stalemate, both of us hotheaded and refusing to give in.
“You’re going to make some poor woman miserable one day,” I throw in. “I feel sorry for her already.”
Gripping his wrist, I pull it away from my face, marching away from him to the other side of the counter. Lifting up a knife, I start unevenly slicing up cucumbers, taking out the anger on them instead.
“Easy there before you chop off your finger.”
My hand goes still and my eyes slowly crawl up to his. Picking up a piece of cucumber, I throw it at his face, but he instantly catches it and pops it into his mouth as he smiles cruelly.
I grunt with disappointment, gritting my teeth harder, my jaw rattling with the force. I hate him so much. I can’t believe I ever wanted to fuck him.
“You’re so lucky that didn’t end up on my work shirt, Chiara.”
“Oh, yeah?” I snicker. “And what in the world would you have done if it did?”
He rushes around the counter so fast, his front pressing into my back with the knife still in my hand. I could flip it and cut him in an instant.
“Whatever you’re thinking with that thing in your hand, I suggest you stop. Now.” He leans his body over mine, pushing me into the counter, my body falling over it, the knife close to my chest. “I wouldn’t want to dirty up my kitchen with your blood.”
“You’re not as scary as you think you are,” I bite back with a hiss.
He fists my hair, pulling my head back so hard that I wince from the pain, laughing viciously despite the ache.
His eyes land on mine.
Cold.
Brutal.
Cutting through me with a single stroke.
Not an ounce of the man from last night behind his gaze.
“You’re really testing me, Chiara, and I’m growing tired of it,” he threatens in a calm, collected voice. “Maybe I should do something about it.”
His other hand slides up and down my side and my eyes drift to a close from the hypnotizing touch. My mind is at war, fighting an attraction it can’t seem to control. I’m lost to him, even when I wish I weren’t.
He’s lust in its cruelest form. I want to savor every inch of him and hurt him while I do it.
“There’s nothing you can do that hasn’t been done.” I can’t help fighting back. It’s been built in me, like a brand I wear with honor.
“That’s where you’re wrong. There’s so much I can do to you.” His hand delves deeper into my hip, his fingers bleeding pain through me.
I don’t mind the hurt. I rather enjoy it.
I push my ass further into him, dropping the knife before it finds itself embedded in his thigh.
His hand lets go of my hair, sliding to my front, right above my breasts. I control my breathing, not wanting him to see the effect he has on me, even though I bet he knows how much my body craves his.
The pads of his fingers climb up leisurely.
Slow. So slow.
My nipples harden of their own accord from the anticipation, the need for him twining up my body, setting me off with thoughts of him sinking inside me right up against this counter. I want him to take me right here, right now, without asking.
The desire is unfathomable and demonic. But I want him. The rational side of me is long gone. I’m taken over by euphoria.
His cock is hard against the small of my back as his fingers skim up the length of my neck, finding home around the base of my jaw. He cups it tightly, but it’s more of a possession, showing me his power.
He tilts my head back once more, and my eyes are back on his. The inexplicable thirst, the need, spills from his gaze.
“You want it, don’t you, baby?” He arches his hips roughly into me, erasing any confusion as to what he meant. His hand on my hip glides south until a finger slides up my wet slit. “I’ll bet you taste real good when you come.”
I whimper from the dirtiness, and he groans, pressing his finger harder on my clit, making the fabric of my panties rub against me.
“I bet you want to find out,” I add.
“I’d lie if I said I don’t picture you at my mercy,” he drawls with a long, throaty rasp, his gaze still pinned to mine, his thumb brushing roughly over my lower lip. “There are so many things I could do to you, Chiara. So many ways I can punish you for…”
His brows furrow with an unexplained change of emotion, from lust to pain.
Before I can ask what he was going to punish me for, he’s off of me so fast, it’s as though he wasn’t there at all, strolling away like I don’t matter.
And I guess I don’t. I'm no one.
A minute later, I hear what sounds like the front door closing. I press my fingers into my eyes, rubbing away the tension he put there.
The oven alarm for the potatoes I forgot about comes on. I shut it off and storm out of the kitchen, finding a guard in the living room, right by the door leading toward the pool. I get his attention with a polite wave.
“Ma’am.” He nods.
“Hi. What’s your name again?” I twirl a loose strand of hair, giving him my doe eyes.
“I’m Miles, ma'am.”
“Nice to meet you, Miles,” I tell the man, who looks maybe ten years older than me, a touch of a beard lining his tanned jaw. “Can you tell me if there are cameras by the pool area?”
He looks unsure of whether he should answer.
“I only want to show Mr. Smith how well I’ll be enjoying this pool that he so kindly allowed me to use.”
“I can call him for you and you can ask him yourself.” He reaches into his pocket.
I raise a palm to stop him. “Oh, no, don’t bother him. I’m sure he’s working. I’ll tell him all about it when he gets home.”
“All right, ma’am.” He opens the door for me, leading into acres of greenery and the bluest pool I’ve ever seen.
“Thank you.” I smile triumphantly and walk right outside.