I scrutinize her reaction and when it’s nothing more than a blank stare aimed at her lap, I relax. Inwardly I smirk. Violetta isn’t only standoffish with me. However, the longer I’m around her the more I want to provoke her into speaking. It’s an idiotic notion. Why not leave the woman alone and go about my business?
Because she doesn’t conform and it intrigues me, challenges me in a way most people—men and women—don’t.
I drag my gaze away from her to stare out the window. My thoughts are ricocheting in my mind, making my head throb, and I wrestle with the mental chaos until I’m able to subdue it. I learned that by going through each train of thought and straightening it out, there will be a sense of clarity when the exercise is finished.
However, my mind is a damn train wreck.
The possibility of my mother surfacing after all these years has undoubtedly thrown me, but then add the threat to Rafael’s life, plus the responsibility of Violetta? It’s a lot to compartmentalize.
Yet it’s nothing I can’t and won’t overcome. I’ve conquered everything else in my life thus far and see no reason that won’t continue.
The remaining hours on the flight drag and I find myself enjoying the quiet. It’s interrupted every so often when Benito mutters under his breath, but that’s nothing I can’t easily dismiss. What I can’t seem to ignore is Violetta. On numerous occasions I find myself looking in her direction. For what? I can’t answer that.
All I know is it keeps happening.
She’s abandoned the tablet for a pillow and blanket, and curled into a ball with her head resting on the back of the couch. On occasion our eyes will meet, seeing as she’s facing in my direction, and instead of looking away, Violetta meets my gaze. It’s become a silent battle of wills between us.
Me dominating, while waiting for her to submit and offer defeat.
Although she holds my stare longer than most, Violetta ends up averting her gaze. That’s normal. But what snatches my attention ishowshe does it. Instead of looking to the side or rolling her eyes, she drops her gaze.
This is an act of pure submission.
And nothing entices me more than bringing someone under my authority and teaching them my rules. Thinking about Violetta being that woman has had my cock harder than steel this entire flight.
I consider jacking off in the bathroom, but I’m not a person who gives into the whims of my body. It doesn’t control me.Strictandanal-retentiveare the descriptors most people associate with me and they aren’t wrong.Iam the master of myself and everything that entails, reigning in a self-control that affects all aspects of my life.
Once again, much to my irritation, I glance at Violetta. This time she’s asleep. Her face is relaxed and the mistrust, as well as the recalcitrance, are gone and leave behind a peaceful expression. She looks angelic and much younger than her eighteen years, which makes my attraction to her that much more inappropriate.
Regardless, I don’t stop myself from admiring the gentle slope of her neck, the long lashes that rest on her skin, and the glossy waves of her brownish-gold hair. Then I lower my gaze to the bodice of her dress and take in the generous swells of her breasts.
Violetta may look young, but she’s definitely proportioned like a woman.
The stewardess comes by, interrupting my perusal, to notify me the plane will be nearing its destination, and shortly after that Octavia appears. She settles into the seat across from me once again and crosses her legs.
“You may not believe me, but I’m just as curious as you to know why you were summoned.”
“I doubt that, señorita. That is the correct term, right?”
She inclines her head. “I’m not married and don’t see the point.”
“On that, we are agreed.” I pause a moment. “How old are you?”
“Señor Silvestri, aren’t you aware it’s rude to ask a woman her age?”
I snort. “You’re an extortionist, not a woman.”
Her grin is both feral and impish. “Why not both?”
“That’s an idea I can support wholeheartedly.”
“Interesting.” At me quirking a brow she says, “You must’ve come across someone like me or you wouldn’t be so quick to agree. You don’t trust women, hm?”
I tilt my head, keeping my expression neutral and my voice flat. “No.”
My mother disappeared when I was ten, and while I don’t have the abandonment issues that plague Rafael from time to time, I can’t say I walked away from that experience unscathed. Women are complicated and I don’t avoid them like Maximus or utilize them like Rafael. To me, women are…a necessary evil.
I need to fuck them and they feel the need to manipulate.
