Chapter 4 #2
"All this? Revenge? I get that you are angry, trust me, but this seems a little extreme.
You could just keep your head down, get pregnant, live your comfortable life as a Marini wife.
" He leans back, green eyes studying me.
"I'm a dick, sure, but I'm not completely heartless.
I won't separate you from the child if that’s not what you want, and you'll be well taken care of.
Hell, Antonio will probably build a fucking statue in your honor when you deliver a son. "
I scowl so hard, I fear my face is going to be stuck that way.
"Maybe, I don’t fucking want to just pop out little gangsters my entire life," I snap.
"Have you thought about that? We're stuck in this marriage.
We're stuck fucking each other every night trying to make Antonio's heir.
I've accepted that. Doesn't mean I'm happy about it, but it is what it is. Antonio is old-guard, cemented, there’s nothing I can do to him. But Adrian is different. He was supposed to protect me, and he didn’t. So now, he can piss his pants for a few months wondering who wants him dead.”
I expect Saint to laugh, instead, he fixes his intense gaze on me.
"A game," he repeats.
"A fun one. We work together. We're partners. And in the process, we both get what we want."
"Which is?"
"You get leverage over Adrian. I get revenge.”
And control. I don’t say this to Saint, but I need to do something. This moping—it’s killing me.
He shakes his head.
"No."
My stomach drops. I honestly didn't expect that. He seemed to be coming around to it. "What?"
"I'm not interested in giving into this silly little whim." He stands, moves to the window. "I want you pregnant and out of my hair. That's the deal. That's what this marriage is for. I can get whatever I want from Adrian myself."
Desperation bubbles up, and it's starting to leak out of me.
"Saint—" I'm seconds away from begging. Hell, I would have gotten on my knees if I thought it would work.
"You think you understand this world because you grew up in it.
But you don't. You're a Nero princess who read some books about security systems. That doesn't make you valuable.
It makes you a liability." He shakes his head.
"If Adrian was smart, he would have made sure that knowledge was useless before he married you off.”
His words are like a slap. They land the way they are intended.
"I agreed to this marriage. I agreed to have your baby. But we can make it more than just a transaction. We can make it something that works for both of us."
He turns back to me. "Not interested. This is a transaction." He folds his arms in dismissal. "Besides, you don't have a choice. You'll have my heir. You'll be a good little wife."
"I'll be a fucking menace if I have to be," I growl. "I'm not going to just lay down and let you happen to me. Not anymore."
His eyes narrow. "Careful, princess. I've been nice so far, but don't push me."
"You want to fuck me," I move closer, not heeding his warning.
"I saw it last night. You liked me willing and eager." I run a finger down his shirt. "Because let’s face it, you are just as stuck as I am. Until Antonio dies, you are just his little bitch, doing as he orders.” I expect Saint to react, but he doesn’t.
“I give you intel, you help me mess with Adrian, and then, you can fuck me all day long if you want.”
"No."
I'm so frustrated I have to stop myself from stamping my foot like a child.
"Why not?"
"Because I'm already fucking you, and frankly, it's boring."
I don't back down even though his words make me want to.
"Then, tell me what you want," I say.
He laughs. Sharp, humorless. "What I want?"
"Yes. Let me prove myself. Give me a task, and I'll show you how serious I can be."
"You want me to test you." He's moving toward me now, predatory. "Prove you're not just a bored housewife looking for excitement?"
"Yes."
He stops in front of me. Close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
"Alright. You want to prove you're serious? That you can be useful?"
"Yes."
"Then get on your knees."
My breath catches. "What?"
"You heard me. Get on your knees and suck my cock. Show me you're willing to do what it takes to make this partnership work."
This is a power play. A test of whether I'll balk when things get crude. He wants to see how far I'll go.
Too bad for him, I don't back down from a challenge.
I sink to my knees without hesitation. I'd already told myself I'd do anything. And this isn't even the worst thing my mind conjured up.
"Well," he says softly, his eyes wide. He didn't think I'd be willing. "This is…delightful."
I roll my eyes and unbuckle his belt. My heart is pounding, but I don't let it show. I unzip his pants, pull them down enough to free him.
He's already half-hard. I take him in my hand, working him until he's fully erect. Then I lean forward and take him in my mouth.
"Fuck," he groans, his hand sliding into my hair.
I work my tongue over him as I suck, trying to remember everything I've ever read or seen. My jaw aches almost immediately—he's too big, and I'm out of practice. My throat protests when I try to take him deeper, and I have to pull back slightly, finding a rhythm that doesn't make me gag.
But I don't stop.
His breathing changes. Gets heavier. His hand in my hair tightens, and I feel a surge of satisfaction. I'm doing this. I'm affecting him.
"Gemma—" His voice has lost some of its coldness. "Shit."
I find a rhythm that works, one hand working what I can't take, the other braced against his thigh. His breathing gets rougher, and I can feel him swelling in my mouth.
"Fuck," he mutters. "Okay. Okay, you've made your point—"
I don't stop. I want to finish this. Want to prove that while I may be the one on my knees, he’s at my mercy.
His hand tightens in my hair. "Gemma, I'm going to—"
I hollow my cheeks, take him as deep as I can manage, and he comes with a choked groan.
I swallow, the taste of him salt and bitter on my tongue. When I finally pull back, a drop of him catches on my lip.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and stand up.
We stare at each other.
He tucks himself back in. Zips up. Doesn't take his eyes off me.
"Where did you learn to suck cock, princess?" he says finally, his thumb caressing my bottom lip. His eyes are on the splash of himself he left on my skin.
"Jealous?"
He snorts. "I’d like to send him a fruit basket as thanks." He releases me, moves back to his desk. Sits down like nothing happened.
I stand there, waiting. My heart is pounding. I just got on my knees for him. Swallowed him. Proved I'm serious.
He has to agree now.
He has to.
"Well?" I finally ask when the silence becomes unbearable.
He leans back in his chair, studying me with those cold green eyes. "Well, what?"
"Do we have a deal?"
His mouth quirks. Almost a smile, but not quite. "I'll consider it."
The words hit me like a slap.
"You'll—" I can't even finish the sentence. "I just—"
"I know what you just did." He picks up his phone, scrolling through something. Dismissing me. "And it was very impressive. But I don't make business decisions with my cock, princess. I need to think about whether your intel is worth me risking my ass. I’m not big on family drama.”
Rage floods through me. Hot and sharp.
"You're joking."
"Do I look like I'm joking?" He glances up, expression neutral. "I said I'll consider it. That's more than I was willing to do ten minutes ago. You should be grateful."
"Grateful?" My voice is shaking. "I just—"
"Got on your knees and sucked my cock because you wanted something from me. Yes. I was there." He sets the phone down. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to give it to you just because you've got a talented mouth."
I'm shaking. With anger, humiliation, frustration, I can’t even pinpoint which emotion I’m feeling.
"We’re going to a gala this evening.”
I blink, confused. My mind is flooded with a mixture of desire and fury. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
He laugh, leans back in his chair. “Some charity bullshit. Lyla will have a dress for you. Try to look pretty.”
“Fuck you,” I sneer.
He makes a tsking sound. “That’s for later this evening.” He stands, moves to the door. Opens it. "Emmanuel's waiting downstairs. I'll see you tonight at seven.”
The dismissal is clear.
I want to scream. Want to tell him to go fuck himself. Want to storm back and demand he honor what just happened.
But I don't.
Because he's right. I came here wanting something. And I showed him exactly how desperate I am to get it.
I lift my chin, gather what's left of my dignity, and walk toward the door.
As I pass him, he speaks quietly.
"For what it's worth? You made a compelling case."
I don't respond. Don't look at him.
I walk down the hallway, take the elevator, get in the car.
Emmanuel doesn't ask questions. Just drives.
The whole ride back, I'm silent. Fuming.
I gambled everything. Got on my knees. Degraded myself.
And he said he'd consider it.
By the time we reach the compound, my hands are fists in my lap.
I walk straight to my room, slam the door behind me.
And then I stand there, breathing hard, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.