Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
NICO
As I watched her run away from me, an obsessive thought planted itself in my mind. I’d rather take her with me to my fucking grave than let another man have her.
She was mine.
Her breath. Her pulse and her fucking heartbeat.
All mine. Mine. Mine.
The thought alone of another man having her made me want to racket like a gorilla in a cage.
In the darkness of my office, I struggled to lose myself in numbers, but the only thing I lost was time.
It ticked away beyond my control. Each silent tick was a second I lost with her.
Magda’s shadow in the doorway. Coffee on my desk.
Words that fell from her lips. A barricade in my ears.
Then she was gone, and I sank into my dark thoughts again.
I couldn’t take her life. I was incapable of it, just as I had been with her father.
The thought of it alone made the air sneak out of my lungs.
I didn’t deserve to live. But she did. She deserved so much more.
If only the thought of another man with her didn’t make me want to burn the world and leave her behind in the ashes.
Out of all of them, fucking Joel… He took her away from me once. And he’d do it again.
Fate was playing a goddamn game with me. I’d yearned for her for so long. But he was the one who would get the girl in the end. My fucking girl. The idea drove me insane. Made me want to put my gun to his head. I’d already killed two men for her. My conscience insisted thrice was the final count.
I shouldn’t do it. She’d have someone after me.
But would he know her favorite color or sonnet?
Would he know that even though she’d been avoiding music, she’d been humming along to the piano notes floating out of the speakers?
That even though I’d amplified the volume one decibel at a time, she’d stopped crossing the room to switch it off or walk out of the room?
Would the fucker know that? Would he know that she loved to play Asturias with her father?
That she rubbed her chest when she thought of him?
As if her heart physically hurt at the memory of him.
Would he know how to distract her? Fuck.
Would he know how much she loved to be pinched on her nipples?
This was bullshit. Life was fucking bullshit.
Somewhere between midnight and one a.m. I celebrated my fucking life by pouring a glass of whiskey and calling the idiot who shared my genes.
“You told him she’s my fucking maid?”
“Fratello, next birthday, I’m buying you a clock. One of those things that tick and ring. So you’ll hear the time.”
“You’re awake, so keep the gift.”
He knocked into something. Cursed. “These midnight calls are good for nothing. Can’t you just play the piano?”
“Can’t.”
“Why the fuck not? Do it now. It always calms you down, and it might put me to sleep.”
I ground the back of my teeth. I’d learned to play for her, but it wasn’t the right time to let that secret out.
He let out a suffering sigh. “Alright. Who’re we talking about?”
“Joel.”
“Isn’t that the asshole who tried to jump the party last night?”
“Doesn’t matter, stronzo.”
“Exactly, you said she’s just the maid.”
“She was never just the maid,” I growled.
“She wasn’t even good at that. You called her dull, if I remember correctly.”
“She’s my fucking wife now,” I snapped.
He couldn’t find anything better to do than chuckle and said, “I must have forgotten that detail.”
“I swear to God, Stefano, brother or not, you do it again, I’m fucking killing you.”
Silence. I glared at the dark room. “Stronzo? Where the fuck did you go to?”
His whistle grated on my eardrums. “I think you need a visit.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Shit, man, you’ve got it bad. Let me get you some cigarettes, and we can smoke away your pain.”
“Shut up. And I don’t smoke. Just stop fucking with me.”
“You need a cuddle, Fratello.”
“If you turn up at my doorstep looking for one, I’ll put a gun to your head.”
“All these th—”
I slammed the phone down. Poured another glass and gulped it down.
I’d end the world for her. I was going to end my world for her, anyway.
I only hoped her life was colored fuchsia after me.
Sometime after three a.m. in the darkness of my office, with only the sound of my breathing, my restraint snapped.
One glance. That was all I needed. Then I’d come back to my office and sleep on my sofa.
If I ever slept in a bed again, it was going to be next to her.
Besides, I should get used to the damn sofa. I’d be in a coffin soon enough.
Maybe I should have given her a reward for the night before when I fucked her out of her senses. She’d probably forgotten about it after seeing the blood on my cuff. I knew I should be a gentleman and tell her another tidbit.
The idea was hilarious. Gentleman. Not even when I was dead.
But maybe I’d just lean close, steal a sniff, and leave a kiss behind. Like I’d done the nights before. I convinced myself that was a good plan, but when I turned the corner into the bedroom, she turned it into a shit plan. She was wide awake, seated on the bed, legs crossed and book in hand.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Can’t she give me one fucking break?
An agitated grunt caught in my lungs.
She looked up and smiled. Like she was too sleepy to remember that she hated me.
This woman was going to be the death of me. Literally. Dressed in some silky black thing, she was the bait, waiting for me to step in and take a bite. Yet all I could think of was that I’d have to find the idiot who’d designed it and replicate it in fuchsia.
There was no point in this. Being in her room wasn’t doing me any good.
Yet I couldn’t make myself turn and walk away.
She looked at me like she sensed the war inside me.
Like she knew I’d rather put a knife to my chest than walk away.
I refused to let her see me like this. But instead of walking away, I staggered a step forward.
She frowned. “Are you okay?”
I wasn’t going to fuck her. I couldn’t. I didn’t have anything else to tell her than the fucking truth, and that was only going to end one way.
Did she smell like a rockrose in the night? Warm, sweet with a hint of smoke that grounded her to me. Another step. Her book fell to her side. My name falling from her lips twisted my insides. “Niccolò.”
“Nico.” Why did my voice sound so fucking weak? “No one calls me that.”
She tipped her head in thought. Curls coiling on her naked shoulders, rolling down her back, aching to be in my fists. She sank her teeth into her lower lip. My dick swelled behind my pants. “What if I want to?”
I frowned. “Want to what?”
“Call you Niccolò.”
Jesus, the way she said my name. It sounded like she’d dropped to her knees and begged for my cock. “Call me whatever you want.” She could call me ‘mine’ too, if she wanted.
We stared at each other, silence the master in the room because I was for sure not the one in control. I took in the book next to her. The bare torso of a man on the cover. “What the fuck are you reading?”
She shoved it hurriedly under the pillow. “Nothing.”
I scrubbed my hand over my jaw. How many fucking men did I have to kill for this woman? “Why’re you still awake?”
She shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“Maybe you need a nightcap?”
“No thanks. No more alcohol for me.”
“Why not?”
She shook her head. Kept her mouth sealed. How the hell had I missed that? She shifted under my intent gaze. Uncurling her feet from beneath her, she stretched them out like a fucking red carpet to heaven. All tanned skin. A reluctant smile tugged at my lips. Fuchsia pink painted toes.
I stepped closer, hooked my hand around one ankle, and lifted it off the bed. Then I placed her tiny pinky toe in my mouth and sucked. She gasped. Then giggled.
I sucked her ring toe.
“Stop it,” she whined.
“Then tell me why you don’t drink.”
She shook her head. I moved on to her middle toe. “Okay. Okay.” She held out her hand in an attempt to stop me. “Poor decisions.”
“As in?” I encouraged.
She stared at her foot. My hand was rubbing against her ankle. Her face was flushed. Fuck. She liked it.
Her index toe got my attention. She squirmed. I got to her big toe. She rolled her lip into her mouth.
I’d fucked her twice. Bare. She’d either not registered it, or she was on something.
I hoped it was the former. The thought of her carrying my seed inside her.
Fuck. I shook my head. Never knowing a child of mine was a fucking heartache I didn’t want to imagine.
It made my insides burn like acid. I bit her pinky to take the brunt of my rage.
Her head tipped back. She took my punishment with a moan.
Made me want to fist her hair and fuck her into the mattress.
My grip tightened even though I should have walked away. I took each toe into my mouth, sucked and released it. She’d unleashed a new kink in me. But I wouldn’t fuck her. I’d let her go soon enough and go back to my depraved sofa.
She rolled her head up. Our gazes hooked.
Hers half-lidded. Mine probably manic with lust. I sucked another toe in.
The air in the room tensed and coiled. Heated my blood to the boiling point.
A lick of her lips. Oh, she knew what she was doing.
Pulling me in one shallow breath at a time.
My gaze dipped. To the lace shifting up and down.
Fuck. It had tiny holes, and through them a teasing display of her mocha-brown nipples.
I wasn’t sure if she pulled me in or if I’d lost my senses. But the next instant I was on the bed, crawling toward her. One chance to see what she looked like naked, and then I’d get out.
Static collected on her skin as I rolled the silly thing off her. When I pulled it off completely, she was as glorious naked as I’d imagined her a hundred thousand times.