Chapter Forty–Seven #2
“Oh, that.” I take a sip of coffee. “Yeah, it’s annoying. I got tired of telling them to fuck off with that nonsense. It’s the only order they outright ignore.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s an official law within THE O, to stand in the presence of a Byrd unless otherwise indicated. And they take their oaths seriously.”
“They watch you like a hawk, too,” he adds. “Like you’re their property.”
Do they? It’s all so normal to me that I’ve never thought about how jarring it must look from the outside. “Well, they’ve sworn their entire lives to me, so I suppose, in a way, I am their property.”
“Meanwhile my own men and blood are turning on me.”
“No, your men knelt with you,” I remind him. “A few bad eggs doesn’t ruin the whole basket.”
“Hmm. You did try to foreshadow that, didn’t you?”
Noticing the direction he’s leading me, I wiggle my fingers in his grasp. “Are we going to my private stream?”
A slant smile pulls at his lips. “Had a chat with your assistants this morning. Learned that’s where you like to spend your afternoons.”
“You’ve been busy,” I say. “But yeah, I keep that stream all to myself. No one bothers me there, so it remains quiet and peaceful. All my best ideas come to me there.”
In a few minutes, we arrive at the narrow gap between jagged, moss-covered rocks that mark the entrance to the stream. The soothing song of gushing water greets us first, a cascading melody, soft and steady.
Cool mist kisses our skin as Stefano guides me through the snug passage, which soon gives way to a serene mountain hollow.
My sanctuary. From a towering cliff, a powerful waterfall crashes into the rocky river below, which weaves between boulders before branching off into smaller streams that trace across the plains like silver threads.
On a raised grassy bank sits my robust tarp-tent, camping chairs, and my weatherproof hammock, bolted between two rocks. Today, there’s something new here. A full picnic setup. Blanket, basket, icebox, and a cake box.
Stefano gestures to the setup. “Mind if I crash your spot today?”
“Only if there’s a prinsesst?rta in that cake box.”
Chuckling, he guides me over and we lower onto the blanket. He lifts the lid off the pretty cake box, revealing the perfectly classic Swedish treat, then throws me a wink. “Promised you, didn’t I?”
My mouth waters, and I shimmy my shoulders excitedly.
Stefano laughs, a glint in his eyes. “Real quick. Which do you love more: food, or me?”
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.”
Another laugh rolls out of him. A laughing Stefano might be my favorite.
But, I favor sweet treats even more. I pluck the knife from the basket and slice into that delicate, creamy goodness…
Fifteen minutes later, the rich taste of marzipan on my tongue, I’m licking custard off my fork after I’ve devoured a massive wedge of cake and none of the other stuff Stefano prepared. “My assistants helped with this?”
“With the picnic,” he says. “For the cake, I called Pavlov. I wanted to get you the best and most authentic version.”
“Dad?” I almost choke on my next bite. “You have direct contact with Pavlov Niiveaux?”
He looks confused. “Yeah, why?”
What the hell’s going on? Dad might be more tolerable than Mom, but not this tolerable. What on earth kind of deal do they have?
As much as I’m anxious to know, my gut warns me it’s nothing good, so instead of pushing for uncomfortable truths, I opt to preserve this peaceful moment. “Nothing.”
He’s unconvinced, but doesn’t push. “Not to sound homophobic, but why’s everyone on your team gay?”
Caught off guard, I snort cake up my nose.
“Not everyone.” I take a drink of water to recover.
“Just my A-Team, which consists of eighteen people. You’ve mostly been interacting with the A-Team, because the others have more stringent obligations and tighter rotations, so they’re not around as much during the day. ”
“Okay...” He shrugs, as if that didn’t answer his question. “Why is the entire A-Team gay?”
I tip my head from side to side. “Lots of trial and failure. In the end, I found that my lead team is more effective when everyone’s gay, married, detached, and has zero interest in me beyond their sworn duties.
” I pause, then add, “Most importantly, my A-Team has full access to my personal life. They’re tuned in to me twenty-four-seven. They see and hear it all.”
“You mean...” His eyebrows jump slightly. “It all?”
“Yup.” I tap behind my ear. “In the heat of the moment, I don’t always remember to mute this.” Taking in his scandalized expression, I bite back a laugh. “You, too.”
“That’s...something to digest.” He takes a swig from his flask. “Good thing they’re all gay then, or I’d be shooting people right now.”
Oh. Well, good thing I booted straight, virgin Devy from the team. I’d went against my own rules and added him to the A-Team because he’s wicked smart and fast. But after hearing me with Stefano, he couldn’t ever look me in the eye again. Had to get rid of him.
Stefano’s forehead creases slightly, as though he’s bothered by this bit.
Abandoning my treat, I crawl over and straddle his lap.
“You’re chipped now, so you’ll understand soon enough that you won’t ever really have complete privacy.
It will take some getting used to, but the discomfort will fade once you realize that the people on the other end are the ones you can trust and lean on the most. Because their lives are hitched to yours. ”
He sighs, the sound strained, but he wraps his arms around me and pulls me close.
“Why 444?” he asks. “Does it mean something? Three fours?”
My cheeks warm. “It does, but…” I bury my face in the curve of his neck. “I don’t want to tell you.”
His fingers drift along the bare skin of my lower back where my top’s ridden up. “Tell me.”
Still hiding, I whisper, “For most of my childhood, I thought something was wrong with me. Like I was defective, maybe. I didn’t feel much of anything. Just…detached. From people, from life. The only emotion I really understood was the love I had for my dad. That was it.
“Then one day, during an important meeting, they pulled up live footage of you. And suddenly, something shifted. Thudum…thudum…thudum. It was like my heart started beating for the first time.”
I pause, to feel the beat of his heart against me. “It happened on the fourth day of the week, the fourth day of the month, in the fourth month of the year. I never forgot.”
I lift my face from his neck and meet his eyes. “It doesn’t just mark the day I started to feel, 444 marks the day I found my reason.”
One brow lifts, his lips tugging into a crooked grin. “So…it’s about me?”
Feeling inexplicably shy, I give a one-shoulder shrug. “It’s always about you, Stefano.”
“Hmm.” He’s fully grinning now. “Yeah, I’m gonna need to hear more about your obsession with me.” Then his grin falters, brows drawing in. “Wait. What about that ‘first love’ story you told Gio? The whole thing about shutting off your heart after Pavlov killed him?”
I barely hold back a snort. Gio’s smart, but put a nice pair of tits in front of him and he’s putty.
“Gio wanted to connect, so I made him think he was making progress.” I press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“You would’ve looked into my eyes and known it was all bullshit.
” Another kiss, to the other side. “You are my first and only love, Stefano. You turned on my heart.”
His eyes soften, a smile drifting across his lips. “Ditto.”
I roll my hips against him, slow and deliberate. He hardens beneath me. And that instant response to me…that raw, reflexive hunger…it’s the most addictive, intoxicating high I’ve ever tasted.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “Take it out.”
Wasting not a beat, I reach down between us, undo his belt, and tug down his pants and boxers. A rough sound rolls in his throat as I fist his thick length and stroke him, deliberately slow and teasing.
“Are you muted right now?” he asks.
“Mhm-hmm,” I hum absently, my bottom lip caught between my teeth as I watch the head of his cock swell taut and flush crimson.
So damn beautiful. I want it in my mouth.
“Unmute,” he orders through a strained groan.
I pause. “Are you sure?”
“Unmute and sit on my cock,” he grits out, fingers digging into my hips with the command. “Let them hear who you belong to.”
Hell yes…
Without hesitation, I get up and slide off my shorts, reactivate my chip, then settle astride him again.
His hand finds my neck, steady and sure, pulling me in. His mouth claims mine, hungry, breath-stealing, absolute. And while he robs me of breath, his other hand shifts my panties aside, his fingers gliding through slick heat, finding me more than ready.
I lift my hips in silent invitation, aching to be filled.
He positions himself at my entrance, teasing me with the tip. A low, reverberating groan spills from his mouth into mine, before he breaks the kiss and locks his hot, searing gaze on me. “You belong to me.”
“I do,” I whisper.
“Now prove this cock is yours.” He presses in, just an inch. “Take it. Ride it like you fucking own it.”
A slow smile curves my lips. I love a good challenge. He wants a performance? I’ll give him one.
Angling my hips, I sink down on him…