Chapter 44 #2
“You heard Daddy,” goads Luca.
“Raf. What were you thinking?” asks Chiara as she tends to the little cut on my eyebrow while I sit on the lid of the toilet.
She was fixing her hair and makeup when I dragged my sweat-drenched, battered and bruised body into the bathroom.
Let’s just say I forgot Luca had a trip switch and can go from golden retriever to Doberman in an instant.
I wince as she blots at the dry blood with some wadded up cotton balls drenched in antiseptic.
“The whole point of the exercise was to stop me from thinking,” I explain.
“Maybe you should take your own advice and go to therapy.”
“I do hate when you point out the obvious,” I grumble. “How was the session? Did you feel like it helped a little speaking with her immediately after having an episode?”
“It was really helpful to deal with it in almost real time. She talked me through ways I can work to recalibrate my nervous system in the aftermath of an attack as well as ongoing strategies.”
“That’s good, baby,” I say, grabbing a handful of her ass and pulling her even closer so her pillowy chest is right in my face.
For a petite woman, she really does have glorious tits.
I run my hands up her body to cup them from the side, pushing them together, watching them spill out of the bustier-type strapless bra she’s wearing.
“Well my strategy was to punch the shit out of stuff. Though I’m sure I could forget about all my problems if we just didn’t go tonight and you let me get lost between these instead.”
“Raf, are you trying to distract me?” she asks as she checks to see if the cut has stopped bleeding.
“Depends. Is distraction an approved strategy—and is it working?” I ask as I run my thumb over her taut nipple, and she hums hungrily.
“Yes and yes,” she says. “This is probably going to bruise by the way.”
“Oh no, we definitely should stay home then. Nurse’s orders.”
“Raaaafff. We’re going. I am not going to give your dad an even bigger reason to put me on his shit list. Marco is no longer in the top spot, so it’s just waiting for its replacement.
I’d rather it’s not me. Besides, there’s no way I’m letting any of that”—she circles her finger around my sweaty body—“anywhere near this,” she says, waving a hand down her body clad in a boned, sheer strapless bustier and matching thong.
“How am I supposed to survive hours of pretentious small talk knowing my wife is wearing that underneath her dress?” I groan.
“Ever heard the saying, ‘good things come to husbands who wait’?” She smirks devilishly, pulling her body back from me and bending at the waist like some 1950s pin-up girl to put a kiss on my lips.
“You and your fucking butchered sayings.”
“I’ll kiss everything better when we get home,” she promises with a giggle. “Now please get in that shower. You absolutely stink.”
Thirty minutes later, we’re in the back of my car on our way to New York’s most prestigious fine-dining restaurant overlooking Madison Square Park, which has been fully hired for tonight’s inaugural dinner.
The guest list is capped at one hundred.
Enough people that you can slip away without being missed easily, but also way too many people who want your time and attention.
Chiara is looking out the window, her dark waves like a curtain framing her stunning profile.
I take in her beauty quietly. I rove my eyes over her sweet, heart-shaped face and almond eyes accentuated with liner and smokey eye-makeup, moving to her pretty raspberry pout, and her elegant neck which sadly no longer bears my mark, then down further to the swell of her cleavage, watching the rise and fall of those perfect tits with every inhale and exhale that has me thinking about all the very dirty things I’m going to do to her when we get through this night.
“Like what you see?” she teases as the light bounces off her sequined gown, making her appear goddess-like.
“Too much,” I say honestly. “Let’s just turn the car around. We’ll have dinner for two. I’ll happily make a tasting menu out of you.”
Turning to face me, she smiles softly, reverently.
“Raf, we both know your family’s legacy rests with you, and yes your dad has his faults, but I can’t help but think he’s doing this because he wants to pave the way to make people see you as his worthy successor,” she says.
After all she’s endured, how does this woman have a heart so large?
So forgiving? My tongue feels too big for my throat, just like the swell of emotions feels too enormous to be contained in my body.
I thread my fingers through hers in lieu of words because there’s only three that I want to say, but I’m not deserving of the privilege just yet.
“Maybe it wasn’t your choice, but you’re made to be in that room. I know you prefer to succeed quietly, but I couldn’t be more proud of being the one on your arm when you step into your power.”
I pick her hand up and place a kiss on top of it.
“No, angel. I’m the lucky one.” It’s just six words, plain and simple, because often the truth doesn’t need embellishing.
Her eyes glaze over, and I can see she’s debating how to respond, but before she can, the car comes to a stop, and Chiara’s door is pulled open by a parking attendant.
“Good evening, Miss,” he says, holding his hand out to help her while staring at her ample cleavage a little too long.
I glare at him, wishing in this moment I had some sort of X-Men superpower that could put a stop to him touching what’s mine.
It’s futile, so I do the next best thing and rush to push out my side of the car, rounding Chiara’s side before she’s fully stepped out.
“I’ve got her,” I say, batting the attendant’s hand out of the way and replacing it with my own.
“Raf, you’re going to burn a hole in the side of that poor boy’s head,” Chiara scolds with a laugh.
“Serves him right.”
“He’s just doing his job, baby.”
“Well he needs to learn the rules.”
She raises her eyebrows at me in question.
“I licked it, so it’s mine.”
“Oh my God. You’re crazy.”
“Yes. Apparently when it comes to you, I am indeed not of sound mind,” I say, tucking her hand into the crook of my arm and bending my mouth to her ear.
“Now, let’s get this over with so we can get to the good bit where I take you home, strip you bare, then take my time fucking every one of your holes and driving my cock between your luscious tits that the guy who was just doing his job had his fucking eyes all over. ”
She gasps, and her skin flushes crimson. Satisfied she knows who’s boss, I straighten, walking us towards the entrance smug as fuck.
Champagne in hand, we join the throngs of guests, and I feel Chiara’s grip tighten around my bicep.
“Is this too much?” I ask, worried after what happened today.
“No, no. It’s fine. I just don’t want to lose you.”
“A wolf always protects its pack,” I say, smiling down at her. “You look fucking ravishing.”