Chapter 15 Nicole
Nicole
I carefully orchestrated this evening. A look that’s casual, yet provocative. Innocent words laced with subtle hints. A charming man with behavior predictable enough for me to remain in control. An easy escape, should I choose to flee.
For now, though, everything unfolds as planned.
The night is sultry and full of promise.
The wine thins my blood, creating a sense of lightness.
Countless stars above scatter their romantic light over the open roof of the convertible.
I laugh often enough. Branimir’s compliments are almost original, and his biceps hold my gaze just as firmly as his smile.
His cologne smells of leather—rich and masculine, so potent that in our closeness, it clings to my senses and pushes out every other scent.
For a while, I forget about Gaetano and the card game we played last night.
How I won, but in reality, I collapsed —figuratively and otherwise.
That arrogant remark of his, which still has the power to make me blush.
Worst of all? For several humiliating seconds, I forgot he was a witcher, and trickery is his craft.
Gaetano may be after my soul, but I won’t let him steal my time. So when Branimir texted earlier with an invitation, I decided it was fate sending me a sign. Get on with your life, Nicole. A lioness doesn’t lose control over a single game of cards. Or an annoying comment.
Besides, I think I might have figured out the answer to his riddle…
Branimir leans across the gearshift, and all thoughts vanish from my mind. He trails kisses down my neck, his tongue playing over the bare skin above my neckline. His lips are tempting, his hands curious. Exactly what I need.
“Come here, gorgeous.” He grips my waist and sweeps me over. I land in his lap.
My palms press against the hard muscles of his chest. “You really are strong…”
“And I really like you,” he says, half-lidded, and kisses me again. His tongue enters my mouth—hungry and untamed.
A faint breeze carries a sweet scent. As I sense the change in the air, my body stiffens. My eyes snap open to make sure it’s Branimir with me, not someone else. Green eyes. Fair hair. It’s him…But it’s still not enough to calm me.
I glance at the back seat, as if expecting to find the source of the friction lingering in the air.
“Are you all right?” Branimir asks.
“Yes, I…”
Damn that Black Joker. Even in his absence, my mind refuses to let go of him.
“Nicole?” Branimir’s voice reaches me.
I seize his lips with sudden fervor, determined not to let Gaetano ruin this moment. Branimir groans, clutching my hips and pulling me closer. The intimacy offers a vivid impression of the desire flowing through his body.
A pleasant heat coils low in my abdomen.
My eyelids flutter while I savor the sensation of the strong male form pinned beneath me.
But behind my lids, another face emerges.
Chiseled and cold, carved to cut through me with every glance.
That insufferable smile I would give anything to wipe away by beating him at his own game.
And those black eyes that steal my breath each time they linger too long on mine.
I don’t like him—I despise him!
Branimir’s hand finds its way beneath the hem of my dress, and I arch my back, giving him easier access. I kiss him harder. Yet despite his passionate response, despite my every mental protest, I can’t help but wonder…
What would it feel like if it were Gaetano instead? If the exquisite tension inside me was from his touch? If last night, he had closed that final distance between us?
The car stereo suddenly blares, and I jump in my seat. Branimir fumbles with the console, pressing buttons until the music stops. “Fucking hell, that radio nearly gave me a heart attack,” he mutters, frowning.
Every cell in my body braces for impact.
This can’t be a coincidence, not when the whole car smells like him.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the flicker of lights—the yellow and red turn signals of the vehicle.
Branimir and I watch as the headlights start flashing in rhythmic pulses, sweeping the empty field beside us.
He leans around me, reaching for the lever on the steering wheel to turn them off.
Instead, he hits the indicator, and the cabin fills with a constant clicking.
“What the hell’s wrong with you now?!” Branimir exclaims. He jabs at the levers again, but instead of stopping, the hazard lights join in.
My gaze sweeps the empty space of the back seat.
Branimir starts the engine, then shuts it off. Nothing changes. “Never had this happen before. And they call this an upgrade…”
He helps me into my seat, then opens the door and steps outside, moving to stand in front of the headlights. The chaotic strobe of lights washes over his face.
“Reminds me of a book I read in school!” He tells me through the windshield. “About a car possessed by a spirit. The guy who owned it called her Christine. She could repair herself after every crash. Had a mind of her own. Jealous. And vicious…”
He chuckles, shaking his head, but I can’t return the smile. My ears are ringing. My nerves are as taut as harp strings.
And just when I think it can’t get any worse, the engine growls.
My head whips toward the steering wheel.
“Branimir!” I scream the instant the tires screech, kicking up a cloud of dust by the doors. The car surges forward at breakneck speed. No longer blinking, the headlights’ twin beams illuminate Branimir’s startled face.
I scream and throw myself toward the driver’s seat (hours later, I’ll realize I should’ve grabbed the handbrake).
But before my foot hits the pedal, the car jerks to a stop, and the sudden force throws me forward.
I push off the steering wheel, jump out, and run to Branimir, who’s frozen in place—just inches from the front bumper.
“Fucking hell…” He exhales sharply, staring at the minuscule distance between his knees and the car’s metal hood. “Fucking hell!”
He runs a hand through his hair, as if his brain is trying to catch up with what just happened. “How thick do I have to be to leave the freakin’ car in gear?!” he growls, more to himself than to me. “Thank God it was you… One more second and—”
He shakes his head while his fingers clutch the edge of the hood. I take his hand and pull him aside. The car wasn’t in gear. And I didn’t even touch the brakes in time.
Branimir offers a smile, though tension still pinches his expression. “Hell of a night, huh?”
That sweet, bitter scent crashes into my nostrils again and clings to me like smoke. The song returns, blaring from the speakers.
“For fuck’s sake!” Branimir snaps out of the earlier daze. With a few long strides, he reaches the door, yanks it open hard enough to nearly rip it from its hinges, and silences the song with an aggressive twist of the volume dial.
This time, neither of us manages even a nervous laugh.
Branimir slams the door shut behind him and faces me. He runs a hand over the back of his neck, then rests it on my shoulder. “I wanted tonight to be…” He pauses, then, “Better, I guess. Instead, my stupid car decided to make me look like a lunatic.”
I struggle to focus on him, but my attention keeps slipping into the shadows that gather around us. Silence stretches between us. Eventually, I have to admit it—the date is over.
“Shall we postpone it to another night?” I offer.
“Yeah…I think that might be best. I don’t know about Christine, but this one”—he gestures at the car—“is getting her computer system reset first thing tomorrow.”
I attempt a laugh, but the sound that escapes me is strained.
The drive home feels never-ending. Only once I’m safe inside my house do I allow the fire of fury to consume me.
“Gaetano!” I cry out the moment I’m back in my room.
I don’t dare scream his name the way I want—with every bit of my lungs—because I imagine my father is still in his study.
So I plant myself in the middle of the room, fists clenched.
“Show yourself, you vile son of a bitch! Or are you such a coward you won’t even own up to what you’ve done? ”
The air thickens, saturated with his scent. Then comes the static, rushing over my skin like a ripple through silk. The fine hairs on my neck stand up one by one. Adrenaline flows through my veins, readying every part of my body for battle.
I don’t see him, but I know he’s here.
Too late, I sense a shift. My wrists are seized from behind me. My body crashes onto the bed, pinned by brute force.
“Gaetano!” I hiss as he twists my arms upward.
Tension shoots down my spine, flaring through my thighs to the tips of my fingers.
The hem of my dress gathers around my waist, and my cheek presses into the mattress.
The coolness of the fabric contrasts with the heat of my skin, but nothing can quell the firestorm burning inside me.
I dig my nails into my palms. Once again, Gaetano has thrown me into a vulnerable, degrading position, like some wild animal beneath his display of dominance.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” he growls behind me.
I register the change in his lilt. It’s just a nuance, like a breath caught short. Whatever its cause, it triggers a tremor in my gut.
Gaetano tightens his grip on my wrists, fingers digging into my skin. The pressure causes my spine to twist, pressing my face further into the pillow.
“Let me go,” I grit out.
He leans in, his body molding over mine. His weight blankets me, the air between us thickening into something suffocating. “You think you can summon me whenever it pleases you?”
I bite down on my lip, fighting for composure. “You ruined my date. You broke our agreement—”
His chin scrapes my cheek. “You dare to hold me accountable? I’m a five-hundred-year-old witcher, and you’re just one little human.” His lips barely graze me, and my stomach clenches. Electricity sizzles low beneath my skin.
I shouldn’t be reacting like this. He’s a goddamn bastard who crashed my date and is now acting unhinged for no reason—like he’s furious I was with Branimir.
Like he’s… jealous?
I tense, fighting to break free. His grip is merciless—fingers like iron shackles clamping down on my wrists, his body a solid cage that doesn’t budge.
I twist harder, forcing space between us, desperate to reclaim control.
That’s when my backside grazes him. Heat surges up my neck, flooding my face.
No. No. I grit my teeth. What the hell is this?
I don’t fucking blush! He freezes. Just for a second, but long enough for my heart to skip a beat.
Then he laughs. Low, dark, triumphant. The sound rumbles through me.
“Easy, Baroness. Or I might start thinking you’re trying to seduce me. ”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I bite out.
The weight of his body lifts, but his hand remains on my wrists. I’m about to kick him when—
A sharp crack slices through the air.
A slap.
Heat bursts across the back of my thigh, searing into my skin.
What the hell?
My heart stutters before it slams into a furious, panicked rhythm. I twist my head, glaring up at him in disbelief.
He…spanked me?
“What the fuck are you doing?” My voice pitches high, cheeks flaring with a fresh wave of outrage.
He tilts his head slightly, eyes gleaming. “Rule number one. I warned you—three strikes, and you get punished.”
“If you think—”
Slap.
The second smack is just as unexpected as the first. My words vanish on the tip of my tongue. A sharp, searing heat spreads across my skin, leaving a burning imprint, like a visceral reminder that I’m not in control. He is.
My hands curl into fists behind my back. “You’re a pervert!”
“And you, Baroness,” he murmurs, punctuating his words with another slap, “are at my disposal. To do with as I please. You don’t have a choice but to obey.”
“I’ll never obey you,” I grind out.
I’ll ruin him! I’ll make him regret every second he’s kept me in this humiliating position.
My nails dig harder into my palms as fury coils inside me. I won’t scream—my parents finding me like this would be worse than death. I can’t overpower him, either.
I grit my teeth and brace myself.
But once again, Gaetano surprises me. Instead of striking, his fingers trace the area he’d spanked with gentle caresses. The contrast is so sharp that, for a moment, I can’t even process how I feel.
“I like the way you fight me,” he says, his words edged with unexpected gentleness. My breath catches in my chest. His fingers drift dangerously close, brushing along the edge of my underwear. “But I’ll like it even more when you submit…”
“Keep dreaming. And I’m not some child to be disciplined with spanking!”
Damn it, why is my voice trembling?
He doesn’t reply, but I swear he smirks against my back. His fingers tease my skin, and the knuckles reach lower—toward the fabric between my thighs. My lips part. The heat flooding me now… It’s no longer just anger or shame.
It’s something deeper, and more embarrassing. Like in the car with Branimir…when I imagined it was Gaetano instead.
“Of course you’re not a child.” His voice slides down my spine like a silk rope coiling around me. “You’re a very disobedient baroness…”
My cursed body shudders with pleasure at his words. His fingers keep tracing slow, torturous circles right along the edge of my panties. That merciless knot tightens low in my belly.
“If you were an obedient baroness, I’d be kneeling…” His whisper scorches the skin of my neck. My spine arches, but I don’t pull away. “I’d slide my tongue between your thighs and stay there until you saw stars.”
My legs weaken. His hand slides down my thigh and then back up the same way.
“You know, I could do it right now. I’d love to spread you out on this bed, feel you grind against my face while you clutch the sheets like your life depends on it…”
His fingers stop at the edge of my underwear.
A sharp ache twists deep inside me.
Am I actually considering it?
This is a full, spiraling descent into Hell.
He releases my hands. Pressing my palms to the bedsheet, I glance over my shoulder, and my heart skips a beat. Gaetano’s expression reminds me of a rising tide in the middle of a storm.
“Admit you want it as much as I do,” he says. “Tell me you were thinking about me when that man kissed you in his car…and I’ll drop to my knees before you.”