Chapter 32
It was her. It was fucking her, and it was rattling my calm.
The moans from the woman last night looped in my head.
The memory of the tight, warm throb of her pussy around my cock was making me hard.
It shouldn’t have been her. I never meant to have her.
Because now, not only did I want her beneath me again, I wanted what I knew I couldn’t have. Damn her.
I knew the people at the table—their names, their origins, their purpose.
I understood what they said and why they said it, but I couldn’t relate the way I once did.
I didn’t care to. None of the frivolous bullshit spoken at that table mattered to me.
It went in one ear, out the other. It was barely noise, except for when she spoke.
Her voice broke the monotony. Not calm. Not rash.
She was strong and resilient, just like I remembered…
just like the voice I envisioned whenever I read her letters.
Mia piccola rompiscatole. Mia civetta. My minx.
My eyes trailed her as she left. I excused myself from the table and followed Ainsley through the den and into Tore’s study.
There she stood, in the middle of the room, staring at the landscape portrait of the Ancient Roman ruins at Taormina, with the mountains and its cities in the background.
The painting was bright and sunny, almost effervescent, yet calming, with whiffs of white clouds streaking the sky.
In her baggy clothes, the figure of her lower half was practically invisible compared to her defined waist and the tight lining of her shirt around her back and shoulders.
“Does the painting speak to you?”
She startled. Her discomposure lasted only a few seconds, but that lack of attention would’ve cost her life in prison, with a shiv to the gut.
“Why’d you follow me?”
“Is this the painting you bought for Tore during that trip to Sicily?”
“Yes.” She side-eyed me.
“Tasteful. Why look at it now?”
“Why talk to me now?”
“Simpler.”
“Same.”
I stepped closer. Her eyes, a mix of wood and copper, glared up at me, her chin tipped up. “Shy now?”
“Please leave.”
I took another step. She mirrored backward. Again and again until her back pressed against the bookcase. My abs pressed against her breasts, my thigh between her legs—a perfect fit. I gritted my teeth to dispel that thought. It had no place in my brain.
“Why?” I groused. My eyes ricocheted between hers. “Last night. You owe me an explanation.”
She jabbed her arms between us. “I don’t owe you any more than I’ve already given you.”
“Why seduce me? What did you hope to gain?”
She glared at me. “Is that what you think of me?”
“Tell me why.”
“It doesn’t matter, does it? We fucked. That’s it. It wasn’t even that good.”
Wasn’t good? I grabbed her by the throat, pressing her into the shadowed alcove. She smelt of coffee and vanilla, no trace of that bodywash from last night, as if it hadn’t happened when I could still feel her. “Are you trying to make me angry?”
“Whatever you feel is nothing compared to how I felt last night.” She shoved us apart. “When you called me a whore. When I realized you didn’t know who I was. When you threw me out like yesterday’s trash. What do I care if you’re angry?”
“I didn’t know it was you.”
“I got that.”
“Last night never would’ve happened if I’d known who you were.”
She gazed up at the ceiling, her breath catching, her eyes watery. “You’re such an asshole.”
Her anger made my lips stretch into a rare smile. Whether by letters or in person, she wore her heart on her sleeve.
“Tell me,” I taunted. “Do you often greet men like that?”
“Are you calling me a whore again?”
“You were mine last night.” My fingers soothed their way down her throat. So soft. So vulnerable. I gripped it. My fingers perfectly fit around it, like they belonged, like she was mine. “Are you sore?”
“Why would I be?”
“You bled.” Her face tensed. “Did I fuck you too hard?”
“You don’t have to be so crude.”
My hand tightened around her throat, forcing her head back.
“You’re not who I thought you were,” she said.
“I’ve never hidden who I was from you. Every word I wrote was true.” I shouldn’t enjoy the way her throat bobbed in my hand with every hitch of her breath, but that was the problem. I did. Very much. “You know me best.”
“No.” She twisted aside and slipped out of my grasp. “I obviously don’t.”
“Is this because you want more?” My hands caged her on both sides, our faces inches apart. I couldn’t help this need to be close to her.
“I want nothing from you.”
“I think you do.” My hand caressed over her waist and down to her hip. She slapped at it. Good, she had claws.
“I don’t care what you think.”
I sighed. “I think you’re not seeing the bigger picture.”
“Which is?”
“You’ve hinted at your feelings many times in your letters. I’ve never returned them. I never will. Last night was just an unfortunate coincidence.”
“As if I hadn’t figured that out.” Anger radiated through her eyes.
“You should’ve known better. I’m thirteen years older than you.”
“So what?”
“I almost adopted you. My cousin actually did.”
“And? We’re not actually related.”
“You were a kid when we first met.”
“I haven’t been one in four years. This sounds like a grocery list of excuses. You didn’t care about my age last night.”
“You were in the club. I knew you were at least twenty-one.”
“You really have an answer for everything.” A tear trickled down her face. She quickly rubbed it away.
“It’s too easy to die when you don’t.”
“Why are you like this?”
“Last night was a way to pass the time. I’d have preferred it not to have been you, out of respect for the services you’ve rendered to me over the last seven years.”
“Services?”
“Our letters. They helped me pass the time behind bars. Much like last night.”
Another tear leaked out from her watery eyes. “That’s all they were to you?”
“What else should they have been?”
A strangled chuckle broke out of her. “Wow. I foolishly thought…god, I don’t even know. I can’t do this. Let go of me. Vinny and Tore are probably waiting for you.”
I ached to reach out and wipe away her tears, but this was for the best. The two of us had no place together.
“Will it happen again?” I asked. She frowned. “I want to make sure we avoid a similar situation in the future.”
“Last night…” She cleared her throat. “Last night was a mistake. A stupid mistake that never should have happened.”
“Agreed.”
“As far as everyone is concerned, it never happened. No one needs to know.”
“Good.” The word tasted bitter, but I needed to drive the point home. She was a distraction I didn’t need and couldn’t afford. I had the famiglia to regain control of and revenge to carry out.
She blew out air shakily, blinked up at the ceiling, and discreetly wiped away her tears. “Is that all you tracked me down for?”
I gave a slow nod.
“Great. Glad we could get that settled.” She dipped under my arm and scurried out of the room without a glance back.
I watched her go, muddled by the need to stay put and the desire to go after her.
But the most conflicting thing was this feeling of invigoration for the first time in years.
Prison life had been mundane, tedious, and monotonous, with only the occasional fights, maneuvering, and favors to spice up daily life.
I’d probably said more words in that conversation with her than I’d said in the last six months.