Chapter 39 Vin
Vin
Something’s wrong with her. Not physically, I checked. But Sophie’s curled up on this shitty couch with me like she’s trying to disappear, staring at nothing. It’s fucking scary.
Sophie’s always happy and busy. She doesn’t do nothing. She cooks, she cleans, she hums under her breath while she works. She fills space with light the way other people fill it with noise.
But right now? Her light is all the way the fuck out, and I don’t know what the fuck to do about it.
“Hey.” I squeeze her tighter, laying behind her on the couch, tipping her chin up to make her look at me over her shoulder. “What’s going on?”
She blinks slowly. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
“Bullshit. This isn’t fine, Sophia.”
I scoop her up before I can overthink it. She weighs nothing in my arms, soft and warm and boneless, and she immediately tucks her face into my neck with a small sigh.
“Do you want to go to bed?” I’m trying to be nice to her, but it’s not my normal so I don’t know if it’s coming out that way. “And I’m not talking about fucking you. Do you need to sleep?”
She doesn’t answer, just nuzzles deeper into my neck, her breath warm against my throat.
Fuck.
I understand exactly what she needs without her saying a word.
I carry her to the bedroom, settling on the bed with my back against the headboard and Sophie curled in my lap like a cat. I stroke her hair with one hand, slide the other under her shirt so I can have skin to skin contact on her back.
“You’ve been such a good girl,” I murmur, the words coming easy. “Following directions so well. Making me so fucking proud of you.”
Her breathing deepens, some of the tension draining from her body. My thumb traces her ear down the curve of her jaw back up into her hair over and over. After awhile, I can’t tell if I’m doing it to soothe her or to soothe me.
We sit like that for maybe 20 minutes before she stirs, lifting her head to glance at the clock on the nightstand. Immediately, she starts to shift out of my arms.
“Where the fuck are you going?”
“To make you dinner.” She gestures at the clock. “It’s almost 7 o’clock.”
“Your ass isn’t doing shit. Get back in bed and stay there until I tell you to get up.”
She freezes, uncertainty flickering across her face. “But you like your dinner at 7pm.”
“Are you arguing with me, Sophia?”
She deflates, her gaze dropping to the floor, and I realize I pushed too hard. She’s not defiant right now. She’s defeated.
Fuck.
I pat the bed beside me. “Sophia. Get in bed.”
She climbs back onto the mattress, moving carefully like she’s afraid I’ll snap at her again.
“What do you want to eat?” I pull out my phone. “I’m cooking for you tonight.”
Her eyes widen. “No, please—”
“You don’t trust my cooking?” I raise an eyebrow, teasing.
That gets a small laugh out of her, the sound soft and genuine. “No, not that. I just want… you here.”
Fuck, not sure how to respond to that. I clear my throat and focus on my phone. “You need to eat, regina. I’ll order takeout then. What do you want?”
“I’ll eat whatever you want.”
“Sophia…” I give her a warning look.
She laughs again, lighter this time. “Thai food.”
“Good girl.” I pull up the delivery app, scrolling through options. “Pad Thai? Drunken Noodle? Tom Kai?”
She rattles off a few things, her voice gaining strength, and I order enough for a dozen people because I need to make sure she eats and I want her to have options.
While I finalize the order, she shifts, laying her head in my lap. Her cheek presses against my thigh, and my hand automatically goes to her hair.
Then she nuzzles into my dick. I stiffen in more ways than one. “Sophie—”
She does it again, deliberate, seeking. Her lips brush the fabric of my sweatpants and my cock responds instantly, hardening against her face.
“You don’t need to do that.” I try to shift her away, but she doesn’t budge.
“May I?”
May I. Why do those two fucking words absolutely destroy me? Maybe it’s how she asks, how she makes it sound like it’s so important to her.
And fuck, I love it. Her mouth on me not because I demanded it, but because she wants to warm my cock in that sweet wet mouth of hers.
“Yeah, princess,” I murmur, still stroking her hair. “You can.”
She frees my cock from my sweatpants with gentle hands, and when she takes me into her mouth, she doesn’t suck. She just holds me there, soft and warm, her eyes closing in contentment.
I continue to trace her cheekbone, her temple, her ear with my thumb. I don’t fully understand what’s happening right now. All I know is that Sophie Bellamorte is curled in my lap with my cock in her mouth, not because I told her to, but because I think it makes her feel safe?
And I’m letting it happen. More than that. I fucking want it to happen.
The food arrives 30 minutes later. I have to gently ease her off me, tucking myself back into my pants while she blinks up at me with soft, sleepy eyes.
“Stay here,” I tell her, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll bring it to you.”
She nods, settling back against the pillows, and I head to the door.
When I return with bags of Thai food, she’s sitting up, looking more like herself. Still tired and fragile, but present.
I set the food around us on the bed, unpacking containers. “Eat.”
She picks up her chopsticks, takes a small bite of Pad Thai, and smiles at me. “Thank you, Vincenzo.”
“Don’t thank me.” I grab my own food, uncomfortable with the gratitude in her eyes. “Just eat.”
But as we sit there together, eating takeout on her bed, a documentary on in the background, I realize something: this is exactly where I want to be.
Not at Dragovari Tower strategizing with Matti. Not hunting down Aurelio. Not sitting in a room full of soldiers planning our next move.
I want to be right here. With her.
I reach for another spring roll and settle back into the pillows, my leg pressing against hers under the covers.
Fuck it.