14.2
I usually make sure we agree on the adequate form of contraception—insisting on using a condom, but I prefer if she’s on the pill too—and I make sure neither of us have any sexually transmitted diseases, for obvious reasons.
I also find out exactly what they’re into, and more importantly, what it is they are not willing to try. There might be things they’ve never tried before, but are open to experimenting, and if those things align with what I like, then I’ll happily give them a go.
This has always been important for me, as I never want to go too far with a woman. I may not give a shit about seeing them again, or even remember her name, but that doesn’t mean I want to traumatise her in any way. I want her to walk away from the experience just as satisfied as I am.
So why the fuck have I clearly forgotten all of these rules with Chloe?
I may be refusing to touch her, but I’m barely keeping to that rule, and some of the stuff we’ve done so far are things I wouldn’t dream of entertaining before going over the rules.
Then I remember that she has trauma in her past that I don’t know anything about yet, and I want to stab myself for being so fucking stupid. Knowing this, I should be extra hesitant with her, abiding to the rules more closely, not forgetting them.
It’s pure fucking luck that I’ve not triggered her yet, and I can’t have that happen. If she’s not going to trust me enough to tell me what happened to her, we definitely need to establish boundaries.
Well, we can do that tonight, as I want to see where this punishment leads first. Fuck, I really am being led around by my dick, even when my brain is screaming at me to think logically.
“I get the feeling that conversation is going to be really bloody awkward,” she says with a laugh. “But it’s probably necessary. As long as you know there might be things I don’t answer.”
I nod my head in understanding. “The conversation isn’t just another tactic to get you to share your secrets. I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready. This is about making sure we’re on the same page, and that I’m not pushing you too far out of your comfort limits.”
Before I’ve even finished my sentence, she bursts into laughter, throwing her head back with a bright smile on her face.
“Marcus, I’m about to have Sunday lunch with my family wearing no knickers, with a vibrating love egg in my vagina, whilst trying to hold back any noises that give away how fucking amazing it feels… I think we passed my limits a little while ago.”
The sound of her laugh is almost hypnotic and my stomach flips, though I’d never admit that for fear of sounding like a lovesick teenage girl. I shake my head, my smile growing as I see how much brighter she looks when she’s truly happy.
“Trust me, we’re not anywhere near your limits yet. I’ll admit this is to push you, but if it were a limit of yours, you’d never be doing it. You’d have refused, and I’d have let you, but you didn’t. You can hide it all you want, but there’s a dirty slut hidden inside, and I intend on bringing her out, just for me.”
Before either of us gets the chance to say more, the car comes to a stop and the engine is turned off. Miles waits a few seconds, like he always does before beginning to bring down the partition window.
Before it’s open, I reach over and pull Chloe’s skirt down, making sure Miles doesn’t see more than he should .
“We’re here,” Miles shouts as he climbs out of the car to open Chloe’s door.
I watch as she shuffles to the edge of the seat, biting her lower lip as she tries not to make any noise, even though I’m sure the love egg is making her incredibly hot, given how close to the edge she was not too long ago.
I open my door and climb out, just as Chloe reaches my side with Miles trailing behind. Without thinking, I hold my hand out for hers. She looks down, her brow furrowing at what I’m sure is an unexpected gesture.
I’ll be honest, I’m not entirely sure why I did it, it just felt right. After just a couple of seconds of hesitation, she reaches out and grabs my arm, looping hers through mine, in a much less personal way than holding hands.
I hate the way my stomach drops, and I push it away, plastering a blank mask on my face, so she doesn’t see how affected I am. As we begin walking towards the front door, she leans in closer so that only I can hear.
“I want nothing more than to hold your hand, Marcus, even if I was a little shocked you offered. But, do you see that red car over there?” she asks, pointing to the obnoxiously bright flashy sports car that’s parked a couple of spots down from ours.
“Yes.”
“That is Scott’s car. I had no idea he would be here, but walking in with you will be bad enough, I don’t even want to imagine how much he’d kick off if we were holding hands,” she explains, grimacing when she says the name of her fiancé.
“Shit,” I mutter, wondering why the hell he’s here.
I want to tell her that I don’t give a shit about Scott, or what anyone else thinks. They know she belongs to me for the next few weeks, and that entails whatever I say it does. But that will be opening a can of worms I’m not prepared to deal with right now.
The door in front of us opens, silencing us both. Caleb Santoro is waiting on the other side, his face twisted into a scowl as he drags his gaze over the both of us, no doubt taking in our relaxed attire compared to the sharp suit he’s wearing.
As we reach the entrance, he plasters a fake smile on his face, and holds his arms open wide. “Chloe, darling, it’s so lovely to have you home again.”
Chloe freezes beside me, clearly not used to her father being so openly affectionate with her, letting me know this is all an act—what I’ve yet to figure out is why.
With a quick glance at me, she gives her father a tight smile before dropping my arm to allow him to embrace her. Even from here I can tell it’s an uncomfortable, forced gesture. “Hi, Dad. Nice to see you again.”
As soon as he drops his arms, Chloe takes a step back to my side, and Caleb turns to me, his smile now a lot more forced. “Marcus, we’re so glad you could make it.”
The smirk that I’m wearing is definitely not fake. I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy this lunch more than I should. Particularly if Scott is here too. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
Caleb looks startled by my jovial tone, but remembers the manners a rich guy like him is supposed to have, and ever the gracious host, he opens the door wide and gestures for us to come in.
I step through, but before Miles can follow, Caleb holds out his arm. “I don’t think it’s necessary for you to have your security here, given this is supposed to be a family meal.”
Miles looks like he’s about to argue, but I cut him off. “Then consider him here as a family friend.”
“That’s not?—”
Caleb starts to protest, but to my amazement, Chloe interrupts him. “I invited him, Dad. He’s here as a friend, not security.”
Both myself and Miles turn to Chloe, no doubt wearing matching shocked expressions, but it’s nothing compared to the murderous glare Caleb is throwing at his daughter. He’s obviously just as surprised as we are to see Chloe talking back for the first time. I can’t help but think I’m rubbing off on her already.
I’d really fucking love to be rubbing off on her, I think, my mind taking a very dirty mind, until Caleb interrupts my inappropriate train of thought.
“Fine,” he grinds out. “Follow me.”
Without even looking at us, he walks away, leading us through the maze of hallways, towards their formal sitting room. Chloe wraps her arm around mine again, pulling me closer to her with a smile. She looks over her shoulder at Miles and motions for him to follow us.
“Thanks,” he mutters so only we can hear.
I’m not sure what we would have done, but I know my friend well enough to know that he would never have let me step foot in this house without at least one member of security.
While we have a peace treaty in place with the Santoros right now, it doesn’t change the fact we are rival families, and the agreement will always be fragile, particularly if they find out I’m defiling their only daughter after I promised I wouldn’t touch her.
“No problem. Just try not to kill anyone. Either of you,” she says to us both, but her fierce glare is fixed on me.
I roll my eyes. “I make no promises.”
“He’ll be on his best behaviour,” Miles states, discreetly punching me on the arm in a warning.
Before I can retaliate, we reach the formal sitting room. I take a moment to scan the room, force of habit given the world I live in. I’m always doing a risk assessment, looking for threats, as well as identifying all the exit routes, or anything that might be suspicious.
I know Miles is doing the same, probably to a much higher standard than me, but my father raised me to be constantly vigilant, as there are plenty of people out there who want me dead.
Chloe’s mother, Fiona, is sitting on the edge of the sofa, one foot hooked behind her other ankle, her back completely straight—the picture of high class etiquette.
She’s wearing a matching skirt suit in a pale pink colour, a white blouse underneath, with matching pink heels. I’m sure, given how posh the outfit looks, it’s designer, and I’d hazard a bet that the jewellery she’s wearing would buy some people a house.
For her age, she’s not a bad looking woman, but it’s clear she’s had a lot of work done to keep up with the younger society women. There was a big scandal almost a decade ago when Mrs Santoro came home from a break with new tits.
Eighteen-year-old me was very impressed, as they were a hell of a lot bigger than what she had before, and she wasn’t afraid of showing them off.
Now, a decade later, they look out of place on her. It’s not known how many other surgeries she’s had, but if I had to guess, I’d say she’s definitely had a face lift, liposuction, a bum lift, as well as lots of rounds of Botox and lip fillers.
I’m not sure there’s anything natural about her at all, which is ironic as she’s desperate to come off as a natural beauty. It’s why she insists on Chloe wearing a shovel full of make-up, with the purpose of making her look like she’s not wearing any.
What she doesn’t realise is that her daughter is a natural fucking beauty, and she looks amazing without any make-up.
Caleb takes a seat on the sofa beside Fiona, picking up his amber drink from the coffee table in front of him. He doesn’t bother to make any introductions, just gulps down his drink, ignoring the tension in the room.
On the wingback chair beside their sofa, Jacob is lounged back, looking worse than the last time I saw him. I catch Chloe out of the corner of my eye, wincing when she sees her brother.
He’s got dark bags under his eyes, and his skin looks pale and clammy. His head is tilted, resting on the back of the sofa, like he doesn’t have the energy to even hold his head up.
Jacob is usually immaculately dressed, as he’s had the same lessons drilled into us as I have since we were little. Though today, he looks like he’s wearing the same crumpled clothes from last night, and given he appears to hardly have had any sleep, that’s not a great surprise.
I then catch sight of Scott on the opposite sofa, a little shocked to see his father beside him. He’s got grey hair and a beard, but other than that, he’s a match for Scott.
Since the Caprillos are aligned with the Santoros, my family don’t have much dealings with them, though I know my father has met with Ewan Caprillo on occasion.
As I stare at his slightly familiar face, I wonder if I’ve met him before too. There are so many people in our line of work, and I struggle to remember all the people that are loyal to me, let alone those loyal to the Santoros.
I’m a little startled that out of everyone in the room, Ewan is the one to speak first.
“How lovely to see you again, Chloe, dear,” he says in an extremely fake, cheery voice as he stands from his place on the sofa, and reaches out a hand for her.
Chloe freezes beside me, her gaze flicking between all the people in the room. She lets go of my arm, releasing a small sigh as she does, before stepping forward to shake his hand.
“It’s nice to see you too, Mr Caprillo. I wasn’t expecting you, so it’s good of you to join us.”
“Well, after hearing the news that the wedding was being delayed, I thought it was best to come in person to make sure everything is alright,” he states, his voice taking on an edge that I don’t appreciate.
His gaze flicks over to me, and it’s clear I’m not his favourite person. Naturally, that makes my cocky smirk grow.
“Everything is good, thanks for asking. I know you’ve mostly had dealings with my father, but as a formal introduction, I’m Marcus Morelli,” I state, sounding just as much of an arsehole as I intended to.
“I know who you are,” he snarls, looking down his nose at me.
“Clearly, you don’t. If you did, you’d know the right amount of respect to show me,” I reply, my voice taking on a dangerous edge.
Chloe places her hand on my arm, no doubt as a warning, and Miles takes a step closer to me, always having my back. The older man wrinkles his nose, looking murderous, and that makes me smile even more.
Scott clearly has a higher sense of self-preservation, as he quickly stands. “Marcus, let me formally introduce you. This is my father, Ewan Caprillo.”
Though he’s addressing me, he’s giving his father a pointed stare, motioning with his head for the man to offer me his hand.
When he begrudgingly does, I almost want to refuse, but Chloe squeezes my arm, looking up at me with those bright silver eyes of hers, and I relent. I shake his hand, making sure to squeeze a little tighter than is necessary.
As I’m doing that, I watch Scott turn to Chloe, dragging his leery gaze over her body for just a fraction too long. “Chloe, baby, I’ve missed you.”
His tone is sickly sweet, and Chloe freezes when she hears the term of endearment, her grip on my arm now so tight it will probably leave bruises. I drop Ewan’s hand and turn to scowl at Scott.
How the fuck can he miss her? He’s only met her a couple of bloody times!
“I-I, erm—” Chloe mumbles for something to say, only to be interrupted by her mother, who has at some point moved to stand on her other side.
“I’m sure Chloe has missed you a great deal too, haven’t you?” There’s a hard edge to the last part as Fiona shoots daggers at Chloe.
“Yes,” Chloe replies through gritted teeth, forcing her lips into a tight smile.
Thankfully, one of the household staff that works for the Santoros walks in then, breaking up the increasingly thick tension in the room.
I don’t recognise the young man, but Caleb goes through staff like nothing I’ve ever seen. I’m guessing he’s awful to work for.
The young man sounds incredibly nervous as he speaks. “Can I get any of our new arrivals a drink?”
Chloe lets out a sigh of relief, grateful for the interruption. “Yes, please. I’ll take a glass of rosé.”
Fiona scoffs. “We’re having roast beef for lunch, Chloe. You’d be better with a red Bordeaux,” she states, before turning to the young man. “Bring her a small glass of that instead.”
Chloe seems to deflate before my eyes, giving her mother a tight smile and a polite nod. Anger sizzles beneath the surface of my skin, making me twitchy. “Actually, I’d prefer a glass of rosé too. I’m happy to share a bottle with Chloe.”
The young man seems a little startled, and all eyes flick over to me. Chloe appears both relieved and a touch concerned that I have the balls to stand up to her mother.
Fiona and Caleb are both glaring at me, as are the Caprillos. Jacob is so out of it, I’m not even sure he’s aware of what’s happening right now.
Silence fills the air, the tension becoming thick as we all wait, seeing who will be the first to break. The young man, whose eyes have become wide and scared the longer we’ve all stood there, is the one who speaks first.
“I’ll grab you those drinks right away,” he squeaks, practically running out of the room.
“We should probably move into the dining room. Dinner will be served shortly,” Fiona says haughtily, trying to sound like the gracious host, but struggling to keep the venom out of her tone as she looks at me.
It’s actually sort of strange, as me and my father have always been treated with the utmost respect whenever we’ve visited the Santoros home in the past.
For a moment I wonder if this bet, claiming Chloe as mine, even just for a few weeks, is really worth all this. I mean, the relationship our families have been building for years is on rocky footing for the first time in decades, and it’s all my fault.
I know I should feel bad, and I should be prioritising the peace treaty we have with the Santoros over anything else, but I can’t. There’s something about Chloe, and now that I’ve had a sample, I don’t know how the hell I’ve managed to push her away over the last few years.
Her family filters into the dining room, Scott and his father walking with them, whilst me and Chloe hang back for a second. Miles has stayed by my side, just as I expected he would, and I look over to the chair, only to find Jake’s eyes closed.
Chloe leans closer to me, shaking her head, a look of despair on her face. “He looks so much worse than last week,” she says, her voice breaking at the end.
I move over and kneel down in front of Jacob, placing my hand on his shoulder to rustle him awake. He doesn’t even murmur, so I use both hands to jostle him more forcefully.
His eyes spring open as he jolts up, his head flicking around as he scans the room, a startled expression on his face. “What the fuck? What’s going on?”
Chloe kneels down beside me, and I smirk when I hear her hiss, no doubt from the love egg rubbing her in just the right way as she moves. She places her hand on her brother's arm and gives him a comforting smile.
“Hey, bro. You fell asleep. I’m here for Sunday lunch.”
His eyes flick between his sister and me, like it’s taking a few minutes for his brain to catch up, but once it does, his gaze narrows on me, though he talks to his sister.
“Are you okay, Clo? Is he looking after you? You can tell me if he’s done anything he shouldn’t have done.”
I ball my hands into fists at the assumption that I’d ever hurt Chloe. It irks me that someone who is supposed to be my best friend, who has known me for most of my life, would even suspect me of being capable of something like that.
Chloe looks over at me, and the bright smile she gives me is enough to calm my growing anger.
“Marcus is taking really good care of me. I’m actually having a great time. In fact, I was going to ask you to come over some day next week, so we can catch up properly. You know, without prying eyes and ears.”
She nods her head towards the dining room, reminding us that any conversation we have here could potentially be overheard.
Jacob looks over at me, no doubt waiting for me to confirm Chloe’s story. “It’s true. I’m taking care of her, but I know you won’t believe me, so you can come over and see with your own eyes.”
“Fine.”
Chloe’s eyes light up. “That’s great. How about Tuesday evening? We can all have dinner?” She looks so hopeful, there’s no way I’d turn her down.
“I’m available,” I confirm.
Jake looks between us, no doubt seeing the way Chloe is smiling at me, that shy blush on her cheeks that she gets when she’s thinking naughty things while looking at me, and he lets out a reluctant sigh.
“Fine, I’ll be there.”
Before either of us can say anything more, Caleb’s booming voice echoes through from the other room. “Children, join us in the dining room, now. It’s rude to keep our important guests waiting.”
I see the way both Chloe and Jacob bristle at being called children, and I let it slide that I’m probably their most important guest. I stand, reaching out for Chloe to take my hand, so I can help her up.
She takes it, and once we’re standing, instead of letting go, she laces our fingers together as we head towards the corridor that leads to the dining room.
Jacob eyes our joined hands and lets out a frustrated huff as he climbs to his feet. Before he’s even made it fully upright, he begins to wobble, swaying from one foot to the other.
He tries to take a step before he’s ready and he loses his footing, stumbling forward as he sways.
It’s clear he’s going to fall, but both me and Chloe are too far away to do anything about it. Just as I’m expecting him to hit the floor, he doesn’t.
Miles, with his super-fast reactions, has sprung into action, and grabs hold of Jacob before he face-plants the floor.
Miles’ arms are wrapped around Jacob as he pulls him back up, helping him to find his feet, even though he’s clearly still wobbly. As soon as Jake’s feet are firmly on the floor, and he’s no longer bobbing around, he looks up at Miles.
Miles is a few inches taller than Jake, and is looking down at him with concern, and something else I don’t quite recognise. There’s a moment where they’re just looking at each other, as if neither can believe Miles got there in time to help Jake, and the tension between them grows.
Then, out of nowhere, Jake’s face scrunches into a scowl and he brings his arms up in between them, placing his palms on Miles’ chest. He pauses just for a few seconds before pushing him away. Miles is so shocked by the action, he stumbles back, eyes wide and confused.
“Get the fuck off me. Who the hell do you think you are? Don’t ever fucking touch me again,” Jacob yells, pushing Miles again in an act of aggression.
I move to step in, but Miles shoots me a stern glare with a slight shake of his head. This isn’t just about the fact he can look after himself—which I know he can—this is also about who Jacob is, and the peace treaty we have to maintain.
Not to mention, both Jake and Miles are my friends, and if I get involved now, it’ll look like I’m choosing sides.
Although I’ve been friends with them both for years, Miles and Jacob aren’t friends themselves anymore. I’ve no fucking clue when it happened or why, but I think we were around seventeen-years-old when they just stopped seeing each other as friends, and they basically pretended one another no longer existed.
I’ve asked them a million times if something happened, and they stringently deny it, stating that they both realised they’re from very different worlds, and didn’t get on without me there as a buffer.
I didn’t believe them, but after a year of trying to force them to get along again, I gave up.
They seemed quite content just being cordial with each other when needed, whilst otherwise pretending the other person doesn’t exist. This is the first time there’s ever been any open hostility between them, and it catches me off-guard.
I know Jacob’s high, and that’s not helping, but the way he’s looking at Miles, and speaking to him with such venom, makes it very fucking clear these two had a falling out.
Great, another fucking problem I’m going to have to solve.
Miles takes a step towards Jacob, looking angry and confused. He grabs hold of Jake’s shirt, scrunching it into his fist as he pulls Jacob towards him.
“Push me again, Pretty Boy, and I’ll make you regret it.”
There’s a venom in Miles’ voice that I’ve not heard in a long time, and Jacob is right to look scared. His eyes are wide open, but his nostrils flare as he scowls at Miles.
He brings one of his hands up to grab Miles’ wrist where he’s holding onto his shirt, but uses the other to try and push him again.
This time, Miles isn’t caught off-guard, and he doesn’t move. Jacob isn’t small, and before he started going off the rails with drink and drugs, he used to work out regularly, and he still has some of that bulk and strength, but he’s let himself go too much to be any sort of match against Miles.
Although Miles isn’t big and bulky like you’d expect a security guard to be, he’s on top of his fitness, and he’s a lot stronger than he looks. He lifts weights and does a lot of cardio, so despite his lean appearance, it’s all muscle, which is why Miles doesn’t falter even a step when pushed by Jake.
“How dare you fucking threaten me? This is my house. Don’t you know who I am? Get the hell out of here, now!” he yells, looking almost manic as he snarls at Miles.
Miles rolls his eyes and laughs. “Do you have any idea how much you sound like a pampered fucking prince, Pretty Boy? Next you’ll be telling your daddy on me, while throwing your gold rattle out of your pram.”
Well, that doesn’t help to calm Jacob down at all. In fact, I rush forward quicker now when I see him pull his fist back, getting ready to strike.
Luckily, Miles’ has seen it and grabs hold of his hand before he’s able to make a move, and I get there just in time to grab Jacob and pull him away from Miles, who looks to be enjoying the situation far more than he should.
“Jacob!” Chloe shouts, grabbing his attention. “What the hell are you doing? Miles stopped you from falling, and that’s how you repay him?”
Jacob drops his gaze to the floor, looking thoroughly chastised by his sister. For a moment, it seems like he’s going to say something, but loud footsteps pull our attention to the corridor.
“What the fuck is going on in here?” Caleb shouts, taking in the scene before him.
I’ve got my arms wrapped around Jacob, clearly restraining him, while Chloe looks frazzled by the whole situation. Miles is standing off to the side, looking far more amused than is appropriate right now, and I can just imagine the conclusions Caleb is jumping to right now.
Chloe, who is thinking quicker than the rest of us, jumps in. “Sorry, Dad. Jacob wasn’t feeling too good, and when he stood up, it looked like he was about to faint. We were all just checking on him, making sure he’s well enough before we came through.”
Caleb takes one look at his son, and it doesn’t take long for him to believe the story.
“You do look like shit, Son. Drink a glass of water, pull yourself together, and for fucks’s sake, no more alcohol for you. We’ll talk about this tomorrow. The rest of you, get your arses into the dining room before my wife has an aneurism.”
Caleb turns on his heel and storms off. I loosen my hold on Jacob as I ask, “You good?”
“Yes,” he mutters, though I’m not entirely sure he believes himself.
“Right, then let's get this damn lunch over and done with,” I say, walking over to Chloe’s side.
She takes my hand in hers without thinking, and I look over my shoulder at Miles and Jacob, who haven’t moved.
“This isn’t over,” I tell them threateningly. “I want to know what the fuck happened here, and I won’t be fobbed off.”
I leave no room for discussion, pulling Chloe with me as I lead her into the dining room. Footsteps follow behind us, but their quiet whispers are too low for me to hear what they’re saying. At least they aren’t arguing.
Chloe leans in, tugging on my arm so I tilt down a little, just enough that she can whisper in my ear. “I’ll be glad when this fucking meal is over. I have a feeling it’s only just beginning.”
A mischievous smirk spreads across my lips as I look down at her. With my other hand, I reach into my jeans pocket and pull out my phone. Chloe’s brow furrows in confusion, and I turn to her at the same moment I press a button on my phone.
The love egg she’d almost forgotten about begins to vibrate as I turn it onto the lowest setting, her mouth falling open as she looks at me in panic. “You’re right, this is only the beginning. You didn’t forget about your punishment, did you, Mio?”