Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Pfeiffer
Twenty-nine nights to go.
I’m woken up by the sound of cups clattering and the coffee machine bubbling in the kitchen. The clock on my bed stand says eleven fifteen.
Groaning, I rub my eyes. I’ve never been the sort of person to sleep in. My hours at the hospital often meant I had to get up with the bird song, but I’m so exhausted from the late nights that late mornings have embedded themselves in my daily schedule.
As my vision clears, my stomach rolls with nervous energy. Slowly, my recollection of the night comes back to me piece by piece. Fallen Angels. Il Diavolo.
That kiss.
Then I remember the sensation of his mouth on my breasts and even though I’m tucked under blankets in the privacy of my old bedroom, I blush furiously.
As the memory settles along with the nervous tremor in my belly, I revisit it tentatively. His tongue was warm, wet and deliciously sensual. It left trails of saliva across my chest which caught the conditioned air, pebbling my nipples and adding to the electricity that lit me up.
I was beyond mortified when he told me to touch myself.
I rarely do so when I’m alone at night—I’ve always been too busy, and despite being twenty-eight years old, I’m not very experienced.
But he coaxed me through it, telling me what to do with my fingers, all the while heating my lips with his whisky-sweet breath until my head went all fuzzy.
Instead of feeling like I was being forced and pressured, I felt… worshipped.
His hands flat against the wall either side of me, and his thick, braced arms bracketing me in, made me feel safe to be myself. Safe in the knowledge only he could see what I was doing.
Without thinking, I sneak my hand under the covers and into my pajama shorts, gasping when my fingers touch the spot that detonated like a nuclear bomb last night.
The desire, the relief, is still humming between my legs as if he’s unlocked something in me.
He’s unscrewed the lid and discarded it, so I have nothing to contain the lust swelling in my lower belly.
Recalling his instructions, I move my fingers exactly as he’d said. Thinking about last night has already gotten me halfway there and I pin my lips together to conceal my moan.
I remember the darkness of his eyes. They were so close I could almost see them beneath his mask. Incredibly thick black lashes surrounding impossibly dark brown eyes.
Not hazel, not chestnut. Dark, dark brown. Mahogany. They reminded me of someone I once knew. But the second I tried to recall more, my brain shut down.
Then, before I could feel saddened, he rested his forehead on mine and the heat sent me spinning. Just that one simple touch of his forehead against mine did inexplicable things to me.
It was as though a circle had been completed. The sensations between my thighs were suddenly connected to the hot, firm contact between us. I came so hard I blacked out, coming round seconds later to the sound of him breathing me in.
We remained there, his forehead still on mine as my breaths returned to normal. His own seemed to have sped up, the intensity expanding and contracting his chest.
Then he kissed me, and—
I jerk up into my own hand, coming again, almost as intensely as I did last night. I remember his words.
Slower. Firmer. Don’t stop.
Keeping my mouth shut tight, I do as he’d whispered.
Can you feel your come? You’re so slippery, I can hear it. Keep coming for me.
I jerk up again, softer this time, the pulses of my orgasm ripping through my limbs a second time.
When the tremors quieten, I drop my hand to the bed, panting with the exertion.
As clarity comes back to my brain, the question arises.
Why would Il Diavolo want to pleasure me?
I’m working at Velvet to pay off my uncle’s debt. It should have taken me a year at least, but he’s shortened that to one month, so long as I fulfil sexual obligations during that time.
Up until last night, he’d only ever stared at me with a hateful scowl, but when he pressed his forehead to mine, there was no hate. No hate at all. He was completely and utterly invested in my pleasure.
And then he kissed me.
I haven’t kissed many men in my life but I’ve kissed enough to know when someone’s heart is in it or not, and his was all in.
Until he sprang away from me like I’d given him an electric shock.
It was the look on his face that confused me the most. Though I couldn’t clearly see his eyes, I could tell they were widened, as though he was shocked at what he’d done and surprised at how it had felt. Then a wave of anger rolled over him, growling out of his mouth like a warning.
That one instruction. Leave. It sounded off. In that one word I caught a glimpse of Il Diavolo—the one the city is afraid of.
I barely dressed myself before I swung open the door and ran for my life.
None of it makes any sense, and now I’m terrified to go back there.
Which Diavolo will be waiting for me? The one that stroked his lips across mine like they were what he’d wanted to taste his whole life, or the one I could tell was seconds away from cutting off my air supply and reveling in every second of my slow death?
I shake off the visual and climb out of bed. I could think about it all damn day, but I doubt I’ll come close to understanding Il Diavolo and what he wants.
My phone buzzes, reminding me that Shane’s coming to town. She’s taken a rare personal day to come see me, so the last thing I want is to be late.
Dad is sitting at the kitchen table reading a paper when I rush in showered, dressed and feeling somewhat more alive than I seem to feel most mornings now.
“Have you eaten, Dad?”
He nods to an empty plate on the side. “Gayle baked some sourdough. Tastes real good—you should try it.”
“I will do,” I reply, smiling.
He seems good today. That usually bodes well.
I’ve found that his state in a morning is pretty typical of how he’s going to be the rest of the day.
I don’t need to set timers around the apartment in case he tries to cook something and burns the place down.
If it wasn’t looking like a good day, I’d be nervous about leaving him.
“What are your plans today, Fi?”
“I’m going to meet a friend for lunch. You?”
“Not much. Callum said he’d visit later.”
A shudder rolls down my spine. I know he’s been in the apartment in the evenings, as I had specified. I’ve noticed the unwashed mugs, the discarded betting slips, and the dirt on the carpet where he hasn’t removed his shoes. But the idea of him visiting other times too makes my stomach turn.
“I didn’t realize you guys were close again.”
“Yeah,” he replies, a little absently, as he scans the ads. “Can’t remember when it happened, really. He went quiet after he had the accident—for some time. But lately… he’s been coming around more. It’s nice.”
I hold a breath in. “Does he ever talk to you about the, um… the accident? How it happened?”
He squints like he’s trying to recall. “No. I asked him once but he said he couldn’t remember. He didn’t want to talk about it.”
A silent sigh of relief rolls through me. As much as I don’t regret hurting my uncle in self-defense, I don’t want my father to know what he did to me. It would break his heart, and I don’t know what it would do to his state of mind if he found out now.
“He’s always getting into scrapes though. He probably owed someone some money.”
I can’t help the snort that rattles my throat.
Dad looks up. “What’s that?”
“Oh, nothing. Allergies, I guess.”
He turns back to the paper so I press a brief kiss to the top of his head.
“Okay, well, call if you need anything.” Then I reach for my purse hanging by the door and make my way into the city.
My heart expands when I see Shane already seated in one of my favorite diners. I melt into her arms, inhaling the smell of bleach and disinfectant that seems to follow hospital workers around like a status symbol.
“It’s so good to see you,” I gush as I settle into the booth. “How are things at the hospital?”
“Oh the usual,” she says, waving a hand. “You’re not missing a thing. I want to hear about you. How are you settling back in the big city?”
I ponder the question. ‘Settling’ sounds like comfort. Contentment. Not confusion, intermittent arousal, perpetual tiredness and paralyzing anxiety about the health of my father. “Okay, I guess.”
“How’s your dad?”
I smile. “He’s doing okay. He has good days and bad days. Thankfully more good than bad.”
“It must be nice for him having you home.”
“Yeah, I think so.”
A waiter comes over and takes our orders, then Shane turns back to me. “Caught up with any old friends?”
Something hardens behind the wall of my chest. I don’t have any old friends.
I let my friendships fizzle out when my uncle got his claws into me.
I had to find a way to avoid the inevitable questions about my patience, my temper, my sudden shyness.
So, retreating felt like the most effective course of action at the time.
Then I left as soon as I could and I haven’t really been back to New York since then.
“Not yet. Haven’t had the time really. Anyway…” I shift the conversation back to safer ground. “How are things going with Rory?”
Her face lights up at the mention of the paramedic she’s been dating and I settle back to be regaled with stories of going exclusive, meeting the parents, making plans for the holidays.
“You know the holidays are months away?” I grin.
A blush infuses her ebony skin. “Yeah, so? We’re planners.”
My smile widens. “I’m really happy for you, Shane.”
I can tell she’s about to dredge up the whole ‘you need to get online, start dating’ conversation, so I’m almost relieved when I hear my name called from across the diner.
But when I look up, my heart drops to my feet.
“Hallie—” I start, before she launches into me.
“Oh my God, you exist in the daylight too,” she shrills. “Not a vampire after all.”
I pin my lips together, a little afraid of what Shane might make of this encounter, especially since I just told her I haven’t caught up with any old friends. As far as she knows, I gave up my job at the hospital to come care for my father, not to moonlight at a mafia-owned club downtown.
“I didn’t see you after the auction,” she continues, to my horror. “What happened? Who bid? Was everything okay?”
“Um—”
I can feel Shane’s eyes burning into my back, waiting for an intro.
Swallowing, I take a step back. “Hallie, this is Shane. We worked together at the hospital—she’s just visiting for the day. Shane this is… um, Hallie.”
Hallie looks back at me, realization dawning on her, then she reaches across the table to shake Shane’s hand. “Oh, hey. Pleasure to meet you.”
“We just met up for lunch,” I say, apologetically. “We have a lot to catch up on.”
“Sure, okay.” I don’t miss the disappointment in Hallie’s tone, and I feel guilty for turning her away, but I really don’t want anyone knowing about my current ‘job’. Especially a peer in the profession I trained hard for and loved.
If I was a straight-up waitress and was actually getting paid for the work, it wouldn’t be so bad, but I’m basically someone’s whore for a month.
Still, I don’t want her to leave before I’ve checked that she’s okay too. “But quickly, what about you? Was everything okay after—"
“Yeah.” She flicks a sideways glance at Shane, somehow knowing I want her to speak in code. “It was the weirdest thing. No one was there. They just… left the payment on the coffee table.”
I press a hand to my chest. “Wow. Okay. Weird. But… good weird. We’ll talk later, okay?”
She flicks one final glance at Shane. “Yeah. Tonight. It was good to meet you Shane. See you later, Fi.”
Feeling all kinds of guilty and anxious, I watch her leave then sit back down opposite Shane.
She narrows her eyes suspiciously. “What auction?”
Shit. My heart pounds.
“Oh, it’s just, um… I work part time at a place downtown and the auction’s just a name for how we find out what job we’ll be doing each evening.”
It’s a terrible lie but I’m too frazzled to come up with something better.
Her head tilts. “What place?”
“It’s a club. My uncle put a word in for me. It’s worked out okay, actually. I get to be with my dad all day, and I can earn some money in the evening, you know?”
That seems to appease her and she waves her fork before spearing a pancake. “Of course, makes total sense.”
I smile back but my whole body is vibrating with tension.
And not for the first time since I returned to New York, I wonder what on earth my life has become.