He watched me with almost unfeeling eyes, then slowly pulled his fingers from between my lips. ‘Speak.’
‘I’m not…’ I repeated, fervently hoping he blamed the heat in my face for outrage. ‘We’ve been going at it quite a lot. I’m… sore,’ I plucked out of thin air. It was only partly true and, Jesus, given the choice, I would’ve ignored my throbbing pussy and the uncomfortable chafing I felt whenever I moved, just for the chance of sleeping in Cesare’s arms.
But I couldn’t.
He released his vicious grip on my nipple, his nostrils flaring. ‘You’re sore. And you think I’m such a monster I would insist on fucking you when you’re in pain?’
Shame doused my heat, making me squirm in my seat. ‘I didn’t… say that.’
Ice and disappointment slowly tightened his face, and my heart dropped through the floor. ‘Even if you thought that, wehave a perfectly adequate second bedroom. But you want your own chalet.’ His tone was flat. Cold.
‘Cesare… I?—’
He surged to his feet, snatched his glass off the table and turned his back on me. ‘Fist will have your things moved.’ He strolled over to the edge of the terrace, planted his elbows onto the railing, and fixed his gaze on the orange and purple sunset.
I’d been dismissed. This was what I wanted, right?
Except my feet were lead stumps that weighed me down with each step to scoop up my beach coverup and glasses.
As ever, Fist, with his weird bat signal radar, was waiting for me when I reached the hallway leading to the bedroom. He held out my purse, his dead eyes resting steadily on me. My dainty Birkin looked so ridiculous in his meaty fist it was funny. But I couldn’t summon humour.
‘The boys will vacate the place next door. You should be all good there. We’ll bring your stuff in ten minutes.’
The thing with Fist was that you could never tell if he was happy or sad about a situation. So I didn’t even bother to read which way he swung in this particular one. With my heart thudding in protest like I was dragging it through a lake of sticky molasses, I nodded, took my purse and headed for the front door.
Cesare
It was a little thing.
Inconsequential.
Something I’d done myself to countless faceless women in the past when I was done fucking them. And yet, I was equalparts furious and…Cristu, was I actuallyhurt? The very idea of it made me gulp down a mouthful of cognac and immediately return for a refill.
My eyes fell to the glass of frilly pina colada she’d left untouched, and my mood face-planted all over again. What the fuck?
My head whipped around when I heard movement, my heart doing an actual fucking leap at the thought it was her, changing her mind. Coming back to me. I had a flash of wicked gratification where I made her make amends for her little bullshit stunt by sucking me off right here on the deck, for all the fish and stars to see.
But it was Fist who appeared. ‘She’s gone,’ he announced.
My jaw clenched. As if I didn’t know. As if I couldn’t tell the marked difference with the absence because the light breeze washing over me didn’t carry her alluring scent. She was only next door and yet with the aching hollow in my middle, she could’ve been ten thousand miles away.
What the hell was happening to me? How had I gone from scratching a long-awaited itch to being pathetically upset she refused to spend the night with me? From feeling like I couldn’t quite catch my breath because she wasn’t within touching distance.
Fist was still watching me. Rare curiosity in his gaze. ‘Anything else?’ I snapped. Did she seem unhappy? Was she regretting her decision? Begging to come back?
‘No, Boss. Goodnight, Boss.’
I waved him away, then drank some more. Because apparently it was my only recourse since I wouldn’t be fucking Maddelena tonight. Or talking to Maddelena. Or falling asleep next to Maddelena on our first night as a… what? A couple? A short-to-medium-term-flirting-with-danger-and-death hook-up?
Jesus.
Shaking my head, I threw myself into the nearest lounger, glad Rafa wasn’t here. He would be laughing his head off until I threatened to drown him in the ocean.
My phone pinged. I debated ignoring it. But with everything going on, that wasn’t wise. And helluva a thing if it wasn’t the devil speaking.
Heads up. Orazio is on the warpath. So enjoy that pussy while it lasts.
Fuuuuuck!Two weeks had whittled down to days. Days Maddelena was wasting with her bullshit.
