We both know that’s not the case, and her eyelids flutter closed. “Do it then… and get it over with,” she hisses, angrily.
But, she’s trembling, expecting me to pounce on her, probably thinking I’d take her for the first time against this wall. Taking her against a wall sounds fun, but that’s not what I have in mind tonight. Rape is one of the few sins I’ve never committed. So, Itake five steps away from her instead. “Open your pretty eyes, Caterina, and breathe,” I tell her.
She does and curiosity dances in those brown eyes when I begin to strip out of my bloody wedding clothes, keeping my distance.
I smirk to myself recalling more of the day we met. “I needed a shower after a hard day at the office back then, too.” She blanches at my euphemism for torture, making me chuckle. “This won’t be the last time I come home bloody but don’t fret, my darling. None of it is my blood this time.”
With that, I drop my boxers, ignoring her maidenly gasp, and go into the bathroom to start the shower. Whistling a tune, I take my towel down from the rack and pretend I couldn’t care less what she’s doing.
All the while, my mind is turning.
Will she run? There’s nowhere she can go in the house that I can’t find her. Father has cameras in all the common areas. I wouldn’t put it past him to have hidden microphones, too. Guards patrol the grounds. Escaping the compound is out of the question, but I would enjoy the chase if she wanted to entertain me that way.
Will she fetch her knife? Is she sharpening her little kitten claws? I want to find out. I’m more fascinated by how she might act than interested in making Nico suffer via his little sister tonight. Fuck my father’s wishes. It’s Nico’s blood I want for my brother’s.
I’ve just ducked my head under the hot water when the door opens. I’m surprised and yet not. I like that she keeps me on my toes. “Did you want to join me?”
The shower door is clear and, while she doesn’t speak, I see her quickly shaking her head.
I grin and grab the soap. Running it over my neck, chest, and shoulders, I turn to fully face her, not caring that my cock isgetting hard again, betraying my desire for her. There’s a hint of uncertainty in her expression as she watches, but her white teeth sink into her plump bottom lip, betraying her fascination with the show. Would she watch me fuck my hand? With slow and deliberate movements, I wash my cock, imagining that and imagining how much nicer it would be to have her do the honors for me.
Her head tilts to the side as she continues staring until her mouth parts. “Does that hurt?” She immediately winces, and I suspect she didn’t mean to speak.
I glance down at the piercing I’ve had for three years now. I should’ve known better than to race against Armando in his Charger, but I can’t say I hate it. The women I’ve been with never complained about it. Of course, Caterina is not like them. “It doesn't hurt someone like me. Does it scare you?”
She makes a huffing noise. “Why would I be scared of… I’m not the one with mypartspierced.”
Parts? Fuck, she’s funny. “You can always come kiss it and make it better if you wish.”
I nearly lose it laughing at the way her cheeks turn scarlet, the unfamiliar noise echoing off the shower tiles. She turns her head away, her shoulders curling inward. Have I embarrassed her that much? She was the one who asked.
But then I hear it - soft giggling. She’s trying to hide it, but it’s unmistakably the sound of amusement. Rather than it making me feel emasculated or some bullshit like that, it makes me grin wider.
“I shouldn’t be laughing,” she says quietly once we’ve both stopped.
“No, laughing at your husband’s dick probably isn’t a great start to the honeymoon.”
“I meant because Margareta died tonight and others did, too. I’m horrible for laughing when I should be mourning them.”
I don’t like her guilty tone. She sure as fuck didn’t do anything wrong. “People die every day. We laugh when we need to. Maybe laughing is what you need right now. You can cry in the morning if you must.”
“But, her babies…”
“I heard on my way here that your brother is a father - one boy, one girl, both healthy though a month premature.” The fact I intend to make them orphans someday isn’t something I’ll say aloud. “Do you wish to visit them tomorrow, Auntie Caterina?”
She doesn’t reply to the teasing nickname. “Oh, thank God,” she exclaims, dropping to her knees on the hard marble and crossing herself. Watching her through the glass, her piety makes me strangely uncomfortable. Probably because the only way I want to see her on her knees is with my cock between her lips.
Turning back around, I work the lather up again to clean my hands, scrubbing between my fingers and under my nails, washing away the echoes of screams and sin. The dried blood turns red again and then pink under the water before racing down the drain. Clean but never clean. Not like her.
Even slick with soap, my hands are always steady. No matter what I do. Nothing catches me off guard for long. Not enemies with rifles at my wedding reception, not my father’s sick games and not my little bride with her knife can rattle my-
“Alessio, can you help me out of my dress?”
I drop the soap.
12
Caterina
