Chapter 26
CHIARA
Sleep calls to me, lulling me back into its abyss even as my eyes peer open, finding the morning light flitting through the gray curtains.
I yawn, stretching out my arms above me. It takes me a few seconds to realize that Brian let me sleep with him last night, and that he isn’t here anymore.
I glance at the clock on his nightstand, reading ten a.m. He must be at work, wherever that is.
Then a thought hits me. The party tonight. That could be the perfect way to flee unnoticed amongst the throng of people.
Shit. Why didn’t I think of that last night?
Maybe because he was fucking me in all sorts of insane positions and my brain was jumbled. I should’ve told him I wanted to go tonight. Maybe it’s not too late.
I sit up, swinging my feet down, when I notice a small white folded paper sitting up against his silver lamp. Picking it up, I open it, finding a note from him.
I could get used to waking up with you curled up against my chest.
My heart squeezes tight in my rib cage, and my every breath stills as I clutch the paper against my chest. Taking a deep breath, I continue reading.
I left you something on the bed in your room. I’ll see you tonight.
A smile spreads over my face. Grabbing my clothes from the floor, I hurriedly slip them back on, needing to see what he left me before I run into the shower. Exiting his room, I walk over to mine, practically running inside.
On my bed lies a long, white garment bag, and I instantly know what’s inside.
A dress.
He wants you there.
There’s a fluttering in my stomach that I don’t recognize. It’s so foreign, I almost think I made it up, but it’s real, just like last night was.
But I have to get away. I have to leave him. I can’t stay.
My fingertips tingle, my chest burning at the conflicting feelings crackling with my heart, relief clouded by desolation.
I push the thoughts far down where I don’t have to feel them as I unzip the bag, finding two of the same bright red gowns. Though I don’t like wearing color, I can make an exception for the exquisite work of a high-end designer I easily recognize.
Each dress is at least five grand. I lift one by the hanger, running my fingers over the soft, thick material, then lower until I hit the thin, sparkly belt sewn into the waist.
The deep V-neck will definitely put the girls on full display. Thank goodness for the mesh in the middle, or I’d be flashing everyone all night. He guessed on the sizes, giving me two options, one of which should fit like a glove.
Now, I’m a little excited for tonight.
I glance at my reflection in the full-length mirror, happy he had the sense to pack my makeup and hair supplies.
My long locks are sleek straight, parted in the middle, and my makeup is sultry, with a thick layer of black liner on the top lid with a mix of brown and gold shadows. Picking up a brush, I add some bronzer to my cheeks and the tip of my nose, then swipe a nude lipstick on my lips.
I’ve just put everything back into my makeup case when there’s a knock on the door, and before I invite him in, Brian walks inside.
I can see him treading across the floor through the mirror, his black loafers and black trousers coming closer from behind, and my heart pounds in my throat with desire. His firm hands are on my shoulders, his face hidden behind my hair as he turns me around.
Facing him, I lift up my chin with a warm, inviting smile. He backs away, his eyes grazing over my body.
“You look…”
He sucks in a breath as his ravenous gaze traces every contour of my curves.
“Wow.” His tone sways with a husky beat, the back of his hand stroking the underside of my jaw as he nears.
Without looking away, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a black jewelry box. My eyes fling from him to the box as he opens it, staring at me as he does. When I see what’s inside, my eyes widen in disbelief. Long chandelier-style earrings sparkle beneath the well-lit room.
My parents never lacked in money, but I was never this rich. Whatever money my father had, he was careful in how he spent it. We didn’t live a life like Brian is clearly used to.
“Are those diamonds?”
The question is so stupid. What do I expect them to be, cubic zirconia?
“Of course.” His voice sounds like velvet, smooth and tempting.
I want to kiss him so badly. Fuck this lipstick.
“How rich are you, exactly?”
Dumb question number two. Keep them coming, Chiara.
He smirks, and it goes straight to my core. Damn this sexy creature of a man.
“Rich enough.” He removes the earrings from the box. “I want to see them on you.”
His fingers are on the side of my face and my breath hitches from the way his eyes connect with mine. He inhales sharply as he carefully slips my hair behind my ear, his gaze pinning me where I stand like a statue. His Adam’s apple bops as he slips on one earring, then moves on to the next.
A shiver runs down my spine from the simple, yet intimate, way he touches me. The way he looks at me as though I’m the only woman on earth. My body hums with want, even when my mind’s already out the door, running as far as it can go, away from a man it still thinks is a monster.
“Maybe I should keep you all to myself tonight?” he whispers against the shell of my ear, his voice inviting itself into my most intimate places. “I should tie you to my bed and enjoy you for dessert.” He takes a bite of my lobe. “I know you taste good. I tasted you enough last night to remember.”
I groan, grinding my pussy against the insides of my thighs as my hand lands on the back of his head, angling him closer.
“And allow every man at your party to miss out on seeing this?” My hand flows down my body for effect. “Maybe even touching it too.”
He must catch the movement, because the next thing I know, his hand is gripping my wrist in a firm grasp.
“Fuck, baby,” he growls. “If you let another man touch you…” He clutches the back of my neck, his gaze possessive. “You can’t blame me for what I’ll do.”
I grow slick from his erotic tone dripped in envy.
“Why do you sound like a man who thinks he owns more than just my freedom?” I dig my nails into his scalp.
His fingers bite into my neck, his sharp inhale marks my lips as he rests his forehead against mine. “Even though it may not make sense, you’re the one who owns me, Chiara.”
There’s a twinge of agony in his voice, and I want nothing more than to soothe it away.
And he’s right. His words make no sense at all.
He withdraws from me with a bated breath, fixing the lapel of his tuxedo jacket, which looks way too good on him.
“Come on.” He lifts his arm, waiting for me to hook mine through his.
Once I do, we make it out the door, and I realize this might be the last time I feel him against me, so I cling tighter to the strength of his arm.
DOMINIC
Every goddamn man in here can’t keep his eyes to himself. Why the fuck did I think it was a good idea to have her here, amongst these smug, rich assholes who want nothing more than to use her body?
How the hell are you any different?
The question hangs in my head, suspended in time. I don’t know if there can ever be a future for us, but I realize I want it.
I want her.
I can forgive her for the past. I’m sure she had a good reason for what she did. We were kids then. We aren’t now. Maybe she’s sorry. I’ll tell myself anything just to give us a chance.
I watch her from across the room, her long legs hidden beneath the length of the dress. Sitting at a table, she sips on a blue cocktail, completely comfortable being alone as I talk to every man and woman with deep pockets.
“You’ve outdone yourself,” Dr. Costanza says.
She and her husband are both prominent surgeons who donate a nice penny every year at my galas.
Last year, I managed to raise twenty-five million, and the hope is to up it this time to at least thirty. Between the auctions for expensive items, like my house in St. Tropez, and artwork that looks like it’s been made by a child, I’m sure I’ll reach that goal.
“Thank you very much,” I say, shaking her hand, my eyes wandering between Chiara and her. “I hope you and Mike are having a good time.”
“We are. Everything…so…” Her voice drifts in and out.
I’ve stopped paying attention to the blonde doctor. The only thing I’m focused on now is the back of a man, the one currently talking to Chiara. The one who shouldn’t be here at all.
Chiara nods, looking past him as her face contorts with an uncomfortable smile.
I can tell she’s trying hard not to tell him to fuck off.
The bastard either doesn’t care or doesn’t take the hint.
Knowing him, it’s the former. The muscles in my neck twitch, and I grit my teeth so hard, my jaw may crack in half.
Cain, my fucking gun supplier knows he’s not allowed at my home.
I can barely stand him, but I have no choice but to deal with him.
He’s the only one in a five-hundred-mile radius who doesn’t suck Faro’s dick.
If I want weapons, he’s the only one I can go to.
His biggest competitor is loyal to the Palermo family.
He lowers himself to the empty chair beside her.
“I’m sorry. Excuse me,” I tell Dr. Costanza, my feet moving, already steps away. “I have an urgent matter to take care of.”
“Oh, of cour…”
I march toward Chiara just as Cain puts his hand on her fucking thigh. He’s going to regret that. My eyes are on him, while his are on her. She sees me coming before he does, mouthing a thank you. The asshole doesn’t even notice me until I rip his hand off of her, fisting the collar of his shirt.
“Get your damn hands off of her, Cain,” I mouth low, every word stamped with venom.
“Relax!” He tries to get my hand off of him with a laugh, but it’s not working out so well for him. “I’ll leave the pretty lady alone, okay? I only came for a good time.”
My grip intensifies.
“You weren’t invited. Leave. Now,” I threaten through gritted teeth.
“I can see you’re mad. I’ll go. No worries.”
I don’t attempt to remove my fist from his shirt. I tighten it instead, glaring into his soulless hazel eyes.
Cain has a good twenty years on me, and the grays on the side of his head are making their appearance.
His biggest problem is that he thinks pussy is his for the taking, whenever and however he wants it.
I’ve heard he’s been brought up on at least two rape charges, but he’s never gone away for it.
Rumor is he paid the women off before the law could make a case against him.
It’s part of the reason I hate working with him.
The fucker needs to be put through a grinder.
“Get your hand off of me so I can go,” he throws casually.
I’m almost afraid he’ll call me by my real name. That’s not how I want her to find out. I plan to tell her who I am once I kill her father.
But I knew inviting her here would be a risk, and the twisted part of me didn’t care. I want her to know. I want her to hate me. I don’t deserve her or the happiness we could have.
I finally remove my fist from his shirt, and he gets to his feet, fucking off toward the exit.
“Are you okay?” I ask her, my hand on her cheek, concern punched in my voice.
“I’m fine, Brian. I’ve dealt with bigger idiots at the club than that guy.” She tilts her head sideways with a deep smile. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Right.”
I take the seat the asshole was just in, gazing at her.
“I forgot who you were for a second,” I chuckle.
“And who’s that?” Her lips curve up.
“The chick who punched a guy at the club.”
She’s so beautiful, I never want to stop staring.
Her brow whips up as she angles her body toward me some more, purposely rubbing her calf on mine. “That’s right, and don’t ever forget it again.”
She pulls her chair closer and leans her luscious lips to my ear as I suck in a breath like a horny high school kid.
“You don’t need to save me from anyone but yourself.”
Her exhale runs over my skin, and I instantly harden. My palm lands on the back of her neck in a sign of ownership as I gaze at her, and she gazes just as relentlessly.
“I need you upstairs in my room.”
“Maybe I don’t want to go.” The words spin out of her lips like a wicked game she likes to play.
“Oh, you will want to. If you don’t…” I swallow her lower lip with my teeth, nipping hard as she moans. “I will flip you over my knee and fuck your pussy with my fingers.”
She pants. “Maybe you should. I bet you’d get a lot more donations.”
“Fuck,” I groan, my fingers sinking deeper into her soft skin as I pull her face back. “Get upstairs and get on the bed. Keep your clothes on. I want to be the one to take them all off.”
Her gaze is drunk with the same appetite I have growing, her body still on the chair.
“I hate asking twice,” I tell her as she sucks on her lower lip, making me want to be the one to do it.
Not giving her a chance to respond, I go and shake some hands, needing to empty their pockets before I spend the rest of the night pleasing a woman I can no longer hate.