I cocked my head to the side. “Don’t you have a room now?”
“I donow,” she said softly. “But I want to see yours.”
I wasn’t sure why she’d want to see my room. No one went in there. Even when I’d had affairs with other women, it was always at their places. Since I was young, my father had done a great job of cementing in my mind that no woman would be safe with him around. I wanted to be with a woman on my terms. The last thing my love life needed was his intervention, which was always brutal.
“It’s in the east wing,” I told her, pointing down the lengthy hall ahead of us. “It’s to the left.”
She gave my hand a squeeze and smiled slyly at me. I let her lead, which was something I wasn’t accustomed to. I was used to women pursuing me, but this was completely different. In every situation we’d been in, I realized that Alessandra had led. It excited me. She was the kind of woman who would work for what she wanted. Most of the women in the past had pursued me up until I was interested, then made me do all the work from there. There was no depth to them. Alessandra, on the other hand, was changing my point of view with every moment we spent together.
Her hips were swaying beneath her tight dress as she walked, the bottom of it dragging behind her. I was careful not to step on it as she led me toward my room. She glanced at each door that we passed, and I pulled back on her hand when we made it. I motioned toward the door, which was always closed. In fact, it seemed as though everyone in my family valued their privacy. Our rooms were, after all, the only places in the house where we could escape our father.
I let her open the door and watched as she stepped in, only then releasing my hand from her grip. She peered around the room, as though walking in had only just then sparked her curiosity. I didn’t think it was anything special. That didn’t stop her from entering and scrutinizing everything as though she were in a museum.
She pointed to the picture on the dresser before turning to me. “Who’s that?”
I figured the conversation would come up at some point, but I’d never spoken about her with anyone except Natalia, and that was because we shared the memories of my nonna. I walked up to Alessandra slowly and glanced up toward the picture, which was still sitting on top of the white dresser, as it had been since I’d arrived.
“That’s my nonna.”
Alessandra’s eyes grew wide. “Is she the one who used to sing?”
I nodded lightly.
Alessandra’s eyes were gleaming as she stared at the black and white photograph. She sauntered around my room, scanning each crevice as though piecing together the kind of person I was based on the objects I owned. I couldn’t help but feel a little stark, as though all of my secrets were being put on display.
She pointed to my bed. “How many girls?”
My cheeks flushed, shocked by her brazen question. “What, exactly, do you mean?”
“Well,” she said, sighing, “how many girls have been in your bed?”
“Theoretically or factually?”
“In this bed.”
I licked my lips and smiled. “No one except me has been in this bed.”
“You’ve never brought a girl home?”
“Would you? I mean, if your father was Angelo Cavetti?”
She considered my words for a moment as she neared the bed. Her fingers grazed over the fine, dark blue linen. The posts dwarfed her willowy frame, reaching up toward the white ceiling. I eyed her cautiously, unsure of what she was doing. Her question, mixed with the gleam in her eyes, made me wonder where it was going. Was she giving me another chance? Or was she testing me further?
She lifted her eyes to me. “So, would I be the first girl to even touch this bed?”
“Well, aside from the maid who comes to get my sheets,” I told her and lightly laughed. “Yeah, you’re the first one.”
“Join me.”
Those two words caused a wave of excitement to pass through my body. I fell silent as I made my way toward her. She had leaned back on her arms and was watching me approach her. I was all too aware of the blood on my shirt. It had caused the material to become hard and scratchy against my chest. I lowered myself to the bed, slowly sitting next to her.
She brought her eyes to my shirt, which made me want to cover it with my suit jacket. “You should take that off. It doesn’t look really comfortable. And it’s covered in Romeo’s blood. I don’t want to think about today anymore.”
I raised my eyebrows at her. “Really, now? You’re just worried about my comfort?”
I held my breath the moment she reached out toward me. Her fingers grazed my shirt as she opened up the suit jacket, slowly pulling it off. I swallowed hard, my muscles tensing in anticipation. She began to unbutton the dress shirt, and the material crunched from the dried blood all over the front.
I breathed in deeply as she brought her lips to my chest. It was like a small fire had ignited as her hands caressed my chest, opening the shirt until I was exposed to the warm air. She pushed me back, her hands pressing against my skin. My erection was rock-hard, desperately wanting to take over. Still, I held back, allowing her to go at her own pace. Her dress billowed out around her perfect legs as she swept her leg over me, straddling my erection and brushing against it. I softly moaned as she lowered her lips to my neck.
