Antonio
I throw back the last of my vodka, dragging my hand across my mouth, and close my eyes. My head is pounding, body racked with tension, and I don’t know what it’s going to take to clear my mind, given that today has delivered no change in the situation with Andreo.
Or anything else, for that matter.
Salamanca seems satisfied with the swing he has taken against my business, the warehouse still smoking where we’ve tried to rescue a few of our crates from it.
Word has spread through the city already, and I’ve heard from a few of our usual buyers, concerned that I’m not going to be able to keep up with their needs now that I’ve taken such a big hit to my supplies.
As much as I’ve tried to convince them that there’s nothing to worry about, and as much as I’ve doubled my efforts to get the destroyed weapons replaced, it bothers me that people are talking about my failures like that, and I can’t plug those gaps of information easily.
But that’s not the only thing bothering me. No, I can’t stop thinking about the conversation I had with Julia yesterday, when she came to my office to confront me, in no uncertain terms, about the status of her time here.
First, she tried to wheedle her way out of it, tried to convince me that nobody would pay her any attention once she was out of here in the first place, and that the best thing I can do is let go and divorce her.
When I had turned that down, she changed her tune and brought up what happened in this very office the other night.
Of course, I had told her that it was a one-time thing.
I’m not sure if I was trying to convince myself or her, to be honest, but that doesn’t matter.
I can’t let it happen again, not a chance in hell.
No matter how intense our connection was, she’s only in this marriage because she has no choice—and that doesn’t sit right with me when it comes to deepening our physical relationship.
When I’m with a woman, I want her there because she can’t think of anything she wants more than me.
Shit, it’s been a long time since I’ve even sought out that kind of connection—years, most likely, given how busy I’ve been with the business and everything that comes with it.
Beyond that, there’s the stark knowledge that any woman who got involved with me could be putting herself in the line of fire for my enemies, hardly an appealing prospect for a potential one-night-stand.
And I never imagined that I would be married.
Hell, the longest relationship I ever had was with Andreo’s mother, and that was little more than a few weeks.
I likely would never have heard from her again had she not fallen pregnant.
She got out when she saw one of the attacks on my clubs, and insisted that I not contact her, fearful that she would get dragged into it.
When she found out she was pregnant, she told me that she would have the baby, but that she didn’t want anything to do with the raising of him, and that I could have him in return for the promise that I would never come looking for her again.
I had accepted, because I wanted an heir—and more than that, I wanted a child. My own father was one of the most powerful influences in my life, and as I had reached the age he was when he had me, I found myself craving the same thing, the same connection he had with me.
But raising Andreo was lonely work—and now I’m distinctly aware of that loneliness once more, the weight of it pushing down on me as a reminder of all the ways I must have failed him for him to have turned against me like this.
So it feels strange that I’m married now.
In these early days of marriage, I know things are supposed to be downright dreamy in their perfection, but I’ve hardly spent any time with Julia at all.
Because I know that if I do, I will wind up drawn in to something more with her, and I have to do anything in my power to keep from tumbling down that path.
I can’t blur my mind with desire, not when there’s so much that demands my attention right now.
As tempting as it might be to let myself pick up where we left off, especially with the way she came in here offering herself up to me, I need to stay in control.
Even if it feels like it’s going to drive me crazy.
I sigh, and turn to the computer open beside me, tapping through the CCTV camera feeds, as has become my habit in the last few days. Anything to stay on top of what’s happening in this house, that’s what it feels like.
Nothing has changed here. I guess Salamanca isn’t stupid enough to come after my home base yet, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to stay safe. As far as I can see, everything is quiet, steady, exactly as it’s meant to be…
And then I catch sight of movement in one of the cameras, and I scroll back to it.
Of course, it’s the camera that’s set up in the hallway outside Julia’s bedroom—the one that covers the space between her sleeping quarters and the bathroom.
And Julia herself is making her way out of the shower, it looks like, and toward her bedroom.
I stare at her for a moment. She pauses in the middle of the corridor, adjusting the towel that’s wrapped around her.
Her hair is loose and damp over her shoulders, the towel cutting off just below her ass.
I can almost see the curves of her cheeks beneath the fabric, and I do my best not to let my gaze linger too long.
Fuck, the way she looks, it’s…it’s fucking intoxicating, more than all the vodka ever could be.
She makes her way into her room, and I scroll the footage back so I can look at her again. I feel like a fucking creep, watching her like this. But then, she must know there are cameras up.
Is this her way of teasing me? It sure as hell feels like it. Maybe I’m delusional, but I can’t help but feel like she knows what she’s doing. Maybe she even enjoys the attention.
I could get to my feet, head down the corridor, tell the guards to take the rest of the evening off, and pick up right where we left off on the night of the wedding, just like she hinted at when she came in here yesterday…
Or I could stick to my guns and my good sense and stay right the fuck where I am.
I know if I give in to my instincts, I will regret it, as hard as it is to convince myself of that right now.
Shit, I need to get some rest. I’ve hardly been sleeping, snapping upright at every little thing, worried that Salamanca is going to use Andreo’s knowledge to launch an attack on this place whether I’m ready for it or not.
I get up, heading toward my room. The guards are dotted around the entire mansion now, hardly a square yard that isn’t overseen by someone or other.
I need to relax, at least for now. There’s nothing more I can do.
No doubt Salamanca is counting on me stressing myself out to the point that I make a mistake or leave a gap that he can exploit…
I reach my bedroom and head straight to the ensuite, where I switch on the shower, the sound of the rushing water drowning out my thoughts, at least for a moment.
And then my mind drifts to Julia getting out of the shower, that towel, the way it barely covered her body.
Her damp hair clinging to her skin, like it was carving out the shape of her, reminding me just how fucking good it felt to undress her when she came to my office on the night of the wedding.
Still in that virginal white dress, though the things she did once I had it off told me she had way more experience than I could have imagined.
I strip down and step into the shower, tipping my head back and letting the water rush over me. Shit, I need to get myself together.
But instead, I find myself thinking of her again—thinking of how much I wish she was in here with me, taking this shower right alongside me, her damp, naked body against mine beneath the water.
My cock is already stirring at the thought, and I close my eyes and lean back against the tiled wall, wrapping my hand around my erection and trying to pull myself together.
I ache for the feel of her warmth around me once again, the feel of her body against mine.
The way she arched into me, the way she whimpered when I stroked deep inside of her.
The way the two of us fit together like we were made for each other, like we had been designed to come together like that.
Tearing the white lingerie from her pale skin and marking her with my hands, my kisses, in every way she wanted me to.
If she was here, I would pin her against the wall and fuck her beneath the running water. I’d wrap my arms around her, face in her neck, breathing in the scent of her. I begin to stroke myself as the fantasy deepens in my head, so vivid and so stark it’s almost as though she’s right here with me.
Fuck, I need her, want her, would do anything to have her, as wrong as I know it is.
I can almost hear her whines in my ear, the way her body rose and rose in tension until she crested over the edge and came crashing down into her release. I crave the feeling of her coming again, the sure sign that she wants me, needs me.
The look on her face when she came to my office to broach the subject again is burned into my mind, and I don’t know how the hell I resisted bending her over and fucking her again right then and there.
Maybe I should have.
Maybe I will…
I imagine her eyes growing hazy as she tries to keep her gaze on mine, her arms and legs wrapped around me, slick, soapy breasts pressed into my chest. Her folds spread around my cock, enveloping every inch of me, taking me in like there’s nothing she wants more in the world.
Her nails rake down my back, her body bucking and moving against mine as she tries to take me deeper and deeper, until…
My cock twitches in my hand, and suddenly I come back to reality—the sound of the water rushing around me, the heat of the steam filling the shower. I spurt my seed down the drain, wishing more than anything that I could be finishing into her, taking her, taking my wife in the shower…
Fuck. My wife. It is the first time I’ve really thought of her in those terms, though I know, of course, that they are accurate. I’m married to her now, and that means that I owe her more than just the coldness I’ve been meeting her with since she arrived here.
It might not be how I imagined finding a wife, but hell, sometimes in this line of work, you have to accept there are things you could never have expected—shit that would never make sense if you heard it out of context, but you do what you have to in order to keep the people who matter safe.
I reach for the shampoo, still breathing hard, the remnants of my orgasm still coursing through my body. I hope to hell and back that this will have gotten Julia out of my system. But I have a bad feeling that it’s only going to burn the thought of her into me even deeper.
I think of the camera, watching over her, and wonder just how much that feed might let me see if I look again.
And how much I want it to be everything.