Then it hits me. Bellino. Maybe he would have actually been a good match. He’s ruthless. He takes. He spares no thought for the lives he destroys. The decimation he leaves in his wake—it’s just semantics,irrelevant, if something’s in his way, it’s his problem, and he will remove it by any means necessary.
I shake my head. Have I fucked up? Did I make the wrong choice with Vittorio? What did he see in me as I skulked through the halls in pretty dresses? Demure glances and the sugary sweet exterior—is that what he thinks he’ll get? Fuck’s sake.
I blow out a breath as I pluck the shampoo off the shelf and scrub it into my hair. Aggressively trying to figure through my thoughts, I’m giving myself fucking whiplash. If I am so like Bellino, would Vittorio even want me? They don’t seem close. Is that just a show to break my confidence, the walls I hide behind?
I crack my neck and just breathe. I take my time. I form a plan as I rinse and pick up the conditioner. I smooth it through my hair and then grab the sponge. I lather up the soap and scrub my skin, closing my eyes as I smile at the pleasure that radiates through my body from the pain of how I get clean. The rough sponge prickles at my skin as I scrub every inch of it until I’m red raw.
I rinse all the soap and conditioner off my burning, sensitive skin, then flick the water to cold. I sigh as my skin flares. The tingling sensation spreads over me, and I groan. Fuck, this feels good. I take a few minutes until the cold water no longer feels cold.
Before stepping out of the shower, I pick up a towel and wrap it around my hair, and wrap another around my body. I glare down. The towel barely covers me. I step out into my room and gasp.
Vittorio
Chapter Eighteen
She storms past us, but my glare doesn’t move from his. It’s a pissing contest. I know it is. I can’t be the first one to look away, but he holds my gaze. He mirrors my posture; his arms cross over his body and that smirk. The tiniest little kink of his lip. I want to knock it off his face. He’s a smug fucker, and if I could get away with it, I’d end him right here. I know I need to assert my dominance, to force an understanding that he is the help and nothing more, but I’ve seen the way she looks at him; she softens for him. I want that. And I hate that he has it and I don’t.
“You two fucking?” I snap.
He stares at me. The glint in his eyes. The slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. But he doesn’t acknowledge the question. He just glares at me. And honestly, I can’t tell if he is fucking her or if he’s just gagging to.
“Can I get you boys anything?” I turn and stare at the housekeeper, Marianne. Before my gaze flicks back to his, the smirk flicks a little more tauntingly as he claims this victory.
I turn and curtly reply. “No, thank you,” then storm out of there into the living room, straight to the liquor cabinet. Snatching a bottle of bourbon from the elaborate range of alcohol, I stalk upstairs fuming and chuntering as I go.
My plan is to go to my room, but my feet lead me straight to hers. I don’t bother knocking. I’m too angry. I just aggressively throw open the door. Pushing into the room. It’s empty. The blood boils, but then I can hear the shower running. I huff out a breath of frustration, trying to reign in my emotions, but she seems to have opened the floodgates to them, and now they just won’t stop fucking coming.
So I turn and lock the door. I’ll keep that fucker out until we’ve sorted this mess. Neither of us will leave this room until I know where I stand and that she’s mine. Before I wander into the room, climbing up and taking a seat on the bed, getting comfy. I sit against the headboard, propping the pillows behind me and lean against them. I cross my bare feet at the ankles and tilt my head back. Taking a drink from the bottle, intermittently passing the time while I stew.
I can smell her. Her scent permeates the room. I just breathe it in. We’re pulling in different directions, a tug of war between our wants, needs and future. I’ve just burned my world apart for her, and now… this, whatever the hell this is? I feel like I’ve stormed into the middle of a relationship like I’m the other man. This is not what I signed up for. When she wanted to get married, I thought she would be mine. I wasn’t expecting him.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Her sharp voice cuts through the silence.
I leave my head tilted back, and I crack open an eye. “Drinking,” I mutter, bringing the bottle back to my lips.
“Yeah, I can see that,” she snarls from the door of the bathroom. She’s wearing the world’s smallest fucking towel, and my traitorous cock jumps in my jeans. I close my eyes again and let out a breath before taking another swig of the bourbon. The warmth spreads through me, and I lift the bottle to take another drink, but I feel the bed dip, and she snatches it from my grasp.
“Hey,” I smirk out, but she steps back off the bed and chugs a couple of mouthfuls herself. Letting out an exaggerated breath as she wipes the drip from her chin with the back of her hand. She licks her lips, and I stare as she brings the bottle to her mouth again, her eyes train on mine as she tilts her head back and takes a long sip.
The towel falls off the back of her head, and her wet hair snakes out, uncoiling as it cascades down her back. She takes another drink, and she rests her knee on the end of the bed as she leans over to pass me the bottle. I don’t grab it, though. I grab her wrist and tug, yanking her onto the bed. Her body crashes into mine as she squeaks, and the bottle clunks as it drops to the floor. I don’t care. I hoist her until she straddles me, and she glares down at me as she clutches at her towel.
“I don’t wanna play games anymore,” I whisper as my big hands slide up her legs to her thighs. I rub my thumbs back and forth just under the edge of the towel. It’s ridden up and barely covers anything, and I know if I reach around, her ass will be hanging out, but I stare into her beautiful blue eyes. “Are you fucking him?”
It comes out more of a whisper than I planned. Those thick, long, dark lashes flutter before she stares at me with those big eyes and flutters her lashes again.
“Who?” she whispers.
My nostrils flare, and my grip tightens on her thighs. “You know who,” I snarl.
She bats those lashes again. “Luca?” She cocks her head to the side. It’s almost adorable if I weren’t fully aware of what she’s capable of.
I flick my hips and toss her onto her back. My body crashing down on top of hers as she snatches to hold the towel in place.
“Don’t play, Ari, I want to know what I’ve walked into. I want to know what your intentions are. I’ve burned my fucking world to the ground for you and what you promised me. So, I’ll ask again. Are. You. Fucking. Him.”
The defiance on her face makes me grit my teeth. I clench my jaw. But her eyes soften the tiniest bit. And I can’t hold back anymore, crashing my mouth to hers. I slide my tongue across her lips as she opens up for me. I slide it inside her mouth. It tussles with hers as her hands forget about the towel and slide around me, tugging me harder against her. Her hands fist the fabric of my t-shirt as she moves the slightest amount under me. I’m wedged between her legs, and her hips flick a little.
I rest the top of my body flush with hers, and I slide one hand up to her jaw, gripping it tight as I breathe into the kiss. My tongue laves across hers, and I let out a tight groan. Fuck, she kisses like she lives. She takes no prisoners. She’s aggressive as she bites at my lip, and I groan again and buck my hips against hers. I allow myselfa moment to fall deeper before I pull back a fraction and stare down at her.
