If I don’t focus on talking, I’ll give in to temptation.I’ll run my fingers through my husband’s silky hair.I’ll rub my achingly empty pussy against his hard-on, which is poking my belly.And I’ll pull his head down so that I can kiss him senseless.
As if sensing my real thoughts, Shelby’s arm around my waist brings me closer, crushing my breasts against his chest.“Fuck polite,” he whispers inside my ear, licking a sensitive spot under it.He swirls me around, bringing my back against his front.His splayed hand presses my belly, and I gasp when his erection nestles between my ass cheeks.“You’re wearing my butt plug, pet.Remember?I don’t need to be polite.”
I try to stifle a moan, but fail, and it drops from my lips.
“Your family likes me,” I change the subject before I begin to hump Shelby on the dance floor.
Taking my hint, he swirls me back to face him.
“They’re not the only ones,” Shelby replies, with a wink.
He’s not talking about the fake marriage anymore.He’s not talking about convenience or the cover story we’ve been maintaining.He’s talking about himself.About how he feels about me.
The song ends, and Shelby releases me with obvious reluctance.“I need to talk to Tommy for a minute.Will you be okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” I assure him.“Go.”
He kisses my temple before disappearing into the crowd.I watch him go, then make my way toward the balcony, needing a moment of fresh air to collect myself.
The night is cool and clear, the city lights glittering below.I lean against the railing and breathe deeply, trying to slow my racing heart.Everything is changing so fast.The investigation into my father.My feelings for Shelby.The line between performance and reality blurs until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
Movement catches my eye, and I turn to see Cesare Dellamare across the balcony, surrounded by a cluster of women in designer gowns.He’s holding court, his smile charming, his gestures expansive.The women laugh at something he says, leaning in closer, competing for his attention.
I watch them and wonder how they miss it.The emptiness in his stare.The way his smile never reaches his eyes.The predatory calculation behind every word, every touch.These women see a handsome Italian businessman with money and connections.They don’t see the monster underneath.
As if sensing my gaze, Cesare turns his head.Our eyes meet across the balcony, and his expression shifts into triumph.Possessiveness.He excuses himself from the women and starts walking toward me.
My stomach drops.I should go back inside.I should find Shelby.But my feet won’t move, and then it’s too late.He’s here, standing too close, the scent of his expensive cologne overwhelming my senses.Bile burns my throat.I press a hand to the base of my throat, wishing I could cover my mouth with it.
But I know better.I can’t give this man an inch.I must stand my ground.
“Serena.”He says my name like he owns it.“I’ve been hoping to catch you alone.”
“Cesare.”I keep my voice flat, uninterested.“I have nothing to say to you.”
“That’s a shame.”He steps closer, backing me against the balcony railing.“Because I have plenty to say to you.Starting with how foolish you were to believe that you could escape our arrangement by running off with that filthy Irish.”
“My marriage to Shelby is none of your concern.”
“Isn’t it?”His hand comes up, and before I can react, he grabs my face, his fingers digging into my cheeks.“You were mine, Serena.Your father gave you to me.And I don’t appreciate having my property stolen.”
I try to pull away, but his grip tightens.His mouth descends toward mine, and panic floods my system.I raise my leg to drive my knee into his groin and find empty air.He’s gone, ripped away from me with violent force.
Shelby slams Cesare against the stone wall of the balcony, his forearm pressed against the Italian’s throat.The sound of the impact echoes across the space, and guests inside the ballroom turn to look.
“Touch her again,” Shelby growls, his voice low and deadly, “and I’ll kill you slowly.But before I do, I’ll cut your dick off and fuck your face with it.”
Cesare laughs, though there’s fear flickering in his empty eyes.“Everyone knows Serena’s a great fuck.Can’t blame a man for wanting a taste.”
The punch comes so fast I barely see it.Shelby’s fist connects with Cesare’s nose, and I hear the crunch of cartilage, see the spray of blood across his white dress shirt.He howls in pain, clutching his face, but Shelby is already drawing back for another blow.
“Shelby.”I place my hand on his shoulder.His muscles are coiled tight, vibrating with barely contained violence.“He’s not worth it.He’s not worth your rage.”
For a moment, I’m not sure he hears me.His blue eyes are fixed on Cesare with murderous intent, his breathing ragged, his whole body primed to inflict damage.But then my touch seems to register, as the tension drains from his muscles.
He releases Cesare, who slumps against the wall, blood streaming from his broken nose.
Dave appears at the balcony doorway, my father right behind him.They take in the scene with quick, assessing glances.Cesare is bleeding, and Shelby is breathing hard.
