I came down slow and barely touched her lips with mine. Her eyes closed at the light brush. “I have a gift for you in the bedroom,” I said. “Wear it—that and the heels. Nothing else.”
“Where will you be?” Her eyes were still closed, but when I bit her bottom lip, they flew open.
I pointed to the chair. “Waiting.”
Chapter Ten
Scarlett
He had become more possessive, which I found almost dangerous and deeply erotic. He had always been my keeper; violent towards any man who tried to come too close, domineering when he felt I had disobeyed him, a rock when I tried to deny him, raging when he worried that he'd lose me.
He had no reason to rage. He wouldn't lose me. I couldn't live without him. But I knew he was on the verge of…something, after Scott Stone had set him off.
The angel married the devil’s son.
I should’ve charged Scott Stone myself. The Stones had always looked for someone to blame. Brando was an easy target. With Luca behind bars, the real culprit, it was easier to blame his son and take out their resentment and jealousy on him. It was safer as well.
Brando had all they ever wanted. I knew how bitter of a pill that was to swallow. Not that I was jealous of what other women had—on the whole I was an advocate for women supporting women—but it grated against a soft spot when they came on too strong.
I had been jealous tonight. Every woman in the room had stared at him at least once, some brave enough to ask for a dance. Then their eyes would ping to one of his brothers after he had declined, in hopes that one of them had time to spare. But I had smothered the flames, reminding myself that he was all mine.
He claimed that a beast lived inside of him for me; I had grown a few thorns because of him. We both had created something out of the madness for each other that didn’t always seem healthy.
Madness.
That was exactly how I felt about the box sitting on the marble table in the suite’s bedroom. Whatever was inside seemed to have a pulse. Brando had unfastened the gown, and I placed it on a chair before following my reflection in the mirror to the table.
I ran my finger along the square shaped box—too large to be a ring, a bracelet, or a set of earrings. Just right for a sizable necklace. After I traced the shape one, two, three times, I flicked the cover open.
What stared back at mehada heartbeat. I was sure of it. The necklace was ornate and romantic. Hanging in a sky of swooping diamonds were eleven tear-shaped emeralds. The inscription on the inside of the box read:Venus Victrix. Inspired by the famous Canova sculpture, then.
Set in the middle of the necklace were two matching chandelier earrings. My fingertips glided over the diamonds and gems, the pattern of the design almost mesmerizing.
I took a deep breath before I lifted it out of the box and hung it around my neck. It felt cool against my skin, and like the furthest point of a crown, the last swoop of diamonds rested right above my breasts. When the light caught the facets, it gave off an impression of a chandelier lit by candlelight.
I opened my mouth to say something, but then I closed it. Instead, I concentrated on readying myself. I took the pins out of my hair and let the long strands hang loose on my shoulders. Not satisfied with it, I used the pins to secure a few strands of hair to each side of my head. The leftover tousled waves secured back felt more romantic.
I spritzed some of the perfume Brando had bought for me on the pulse points and activated it. It was provocative yet subtle. Deciding that the current heels were not sufficient, I traded them for a pair of higher heels, their crystal-encrusted straps snaking around my ankles.
I applied a little more lipstick and mascara—it sort of felt like a waste, since I knew he’d make quick work of my lips, but it seemed right. When my eyes closed, I hoped my lashes fanned out enough to make a statement.
I smiled at myself in the mirror, feeling kind of foolish about that last part. Oh well. In the moment, perhaps I’d feel like a goddess.
All done.
I stroked the necklace once more, moved my head from left to right to watch the earrings swing and catch light. I turned my head at the sound of the speakers.
Music found me in the dressing room. Sade. He was using my list—he enjoyed that one. At a little over seven minutes long, it was slow torture when I moved to the sensual rhythm for him.
He had promised me later. He was about to deliver.
A shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature made me tremble. Disregarding his directions at the last minute, I slid on a pair of silk underwear with a bow tie in the back. I slow-walked out of the dressing room, into the bedroom, out to the front room.
The room was dark, lit only by the city lights in the background. A few steps from him, I stopped—and my breath caught.
He sat in a velvet black chair, his white undershirt bright against his bronze skin and raven hair. I couldn’t make out the features of his face, though he was branded in my memory, but in any light, his eyes were shocking. Heat radiated from his body to mine. His thumb made slow work of caressing his bottom lip.
Putting a hand up, a signal for me to stop, he stood from the chair, dark eyes glistening.
