Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Giovanni
She’s sprawled on my bed, propped on her elbows, wide-eyed but still trying to project that icy calm.
Her lips are parted, full and flushed. The way she fell has her shirt twisted and pulled tight across her chest, the soft, heavy swell of her breasts clearly visible, nipples already stiff and pressing against the fabric like they’re begging for my mouth.
My cock strains painfully against my zipper, thick and aching. I’ve been hard as steel all night watching that bastard get too close to her, whispering in her ear, touching what is mine. The jealousy has been simmering into pure, violent need. Now, she’s exactly where she belongs—on my bed.
“I really saw him,” she tries again.
I grab her ankle and yank her sharply down the mattress.
Before she can push herself back up, I’m on top of her, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand while my mouth crashes down on hers.
She fights like a wildcat with strong, precise punches and elbows that would break lesser men, but I absorb it all and crush my heavier body down onto hers, grinding my trapped cock against her thigh.
She bucks and twists, but I hold her down, devouring her mouth.
My tongue forces its way between her lips, stroking deep, tasting her heat and fury.
Fuck, she tastes good. Sweet and addictive even when she’s spitting venom.
Then I stop and pull away. She looks up at me, slightly disconcerted. Her mouth is propped open, and she is breathing heavily. My cock is still aching, but I feel strangely satisfied seeing her look hungrily for me and confused that I stopped.
Punishment- that’s my punishment, edging her and stopping. I want her to ache for me like I do for her.
“You said you could help my sister,” I say, trying to keep my voice careless as I pick my shirt from the floor. “Didn’t you?”
“I — umm.”
I subdue a smirk as I watch her try to gather herself.
“I — I can,” she says hurriedly. She is turning red. Serves her right for talking to another man.
“Then help her. Maids will supervise you in the room. You can visit her. Do what you can.”
She looks at me, confused. I smirk.
“And Kirill,” I add, “I’ll talk to him about the split.”
Her eyes flicker.
I stand and take her by the arm and pull, and she falls against my chest, and I hold her there with one arm, so she cannot pull back.
“But understand me,” I say, close to her ear. “Any games with my sister, and I will not make it easy for you. Are we clear?”
She pulls free, and she runs out the door, adjusting her clothes. I look at the door, and I grin.
The grin fades. She was right; Fabiano left the house.
I noticed when he opened the door. He looked like a man who had been home all evening: House clothes, the crutch, and the blank patient face.
Except.
He was slightly out of breath. A man who has been resting his leg all night does not breathe like that when he opens a door. And there was dirt at the cuff of his trousers near the brace. I pull on a robe, and I go to my study.
I open the laptop. I bring up the fleet tracking for every car the family owns, and the full log of the last twelve hours. None of them left the property last night. Not one. Not the cars Fabiano would have signed out. Not the pool cars. Nothing.
Then I bring up the other tracker. The one on Fabiano’s personal car, the one he does not know, I had installed eight months ago, the night I first started to wonder about him.
It shows the same thing. The car has not moved. I sit back. I look at the screen.
Then I pick up the phone, and I dial a number very few people have.
The line rings twice and connects.
“Pakhan,” I say, “can I have a few hours of your time?”
I listen.
“Your girl is fine. She has been —” I pause, and I let myself smile into the phone “— entertaining. I wonder if she entertains you the same way.”
I listen again.
“Let’s meet. Oh, I can wait until Friday. I know you’re a busy man — same place. But we’ll go for coffee. Tea, then. Whatever you prefer.” A pause. “It’s hard to get your private line. This almost feels like we’re friends.”
I listen.
“See you then.”
The line goes dead.
I set the phone down. I take a cigarette from the box on the desk, and I light it, I lean back in the chair, and I let the smoke rise.
I still don’t trust her with my sister. I don’t think she saw Fabiano at the auction.
I think about the look in Fabiano’s eyes when we appeared at the door.
He was calm, pretending he hadn’t left the house.
Under these circumstances, I trust him less.
I trust her more than I trust him. That’s why I let her keep an eye on Lucia.
Lucia is all I care about, and Fabiano knows that. Yana’s words in my study flash through my head.
Your sister’s illness doesn’t look natural.
I lean over to the side table, and I pull the curtain and the red sculpting of Yana’s torso appears.
“Lupa, I guess Kirill and I would be making a deal after all.”