Getting lost in his eye is like navigating a deep ocean. “I could blame the cake.”
His tongue darts over the seam of my lips, “Nope.” His smile gets wider. “Morivo dalla voglia di farlo.”I was dying to do it.
I get closer and kiss him back.
CHAPTER 2
CHRIS
The flight to Seattle feels like a blur of noise and motion, the constant drone of the engines and the rhythmic thud of my own heartbeat echoing in my ears. As the plane touches down and I step onto the tarmac, a sense of weary anticipation washes over me. I know that my life is about to change in ways I can't even begin to imagine.
Waiting for me on the runway is a fleet of sleek black cars, lined up in perfect formation like soldiers awaiting their commander. I eye them with a mixture of disdain and resignation, knowing that each one represents a piece of my father's control over my life.
“Good afternoon, Sir, I’m Zack,” a voice interrupts my thoughts. I turn to see a man in his mid-thirties standing before me, his posture rigid and his expression deferential. He's dressed impeccably, a pin bearing my family's crest gleaming on his collar.Il lecca piede di papà.My dad's puppet. Just what I need, another idiot to report my every move back to him.
“Christopher,” I reply curtly, extending my hand for a perfunctory shake.
We make our way to the lead car, the driver holding the door open for me with a respectful nod. I can't help but roll my eyes atthe unnecessary display of deference. “Was it necessary to bring all of them?” I ask, gesturing to the line of cars. “Non potevi trovare la via da solo, o cosa?”Couldn’t you have found your own way here?
I can see the confusion in Zack's eyes, his brow furrowing in puzzlement. “Ordini del Signor Bonetti, signore.”Mr. Bonetti's orders, Sir,he explains dutifully.
“I'm not him,” I state flatly as I climb into the car, the weight of my words hanging heavy in the air. I may be my father's son, but I refuse to be his puppet.
As we speed through the streets of Seattle, I can't help but marvel at the city's skyline, the towering skyscrapers casting long shadows in the fading light.
Arriving at the penthouse feels like stepping into another world entirely. The spacious living area is bathed in soft, ambient light, the floor-to-ceiling windows offering panoramic views of the city below. The furnishings are opulent yet tasteful.
“Do you need anything from me, Sir?” Zack seems uncomfortable, and I wonder why. I haven't done anything yet.
“No, thank you,” I reply with a nod, watching him leave. I take a deep breath and turn around. “Damn.” My heart pounds against my rib cage as I come face to face with the woman standing before me in silence.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Bonetti.”
“Christopher, and you are?” I respond, trying to ease the tension.
“Stacy, the maid, Sir.” She seems tense.
“Are you a ninja or something?” I chuckle, shaking my head. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“My apologies,” she murmurs.
“It’s okay, go get some sleep. It’s late.” I try to erase the awkwardness.
“Thank you, Sir. What time would you like breakfast?” she asks, but her tone makes me wonder if she's mocking me. Dad's rules have always been breakfast at six am, and if you're late, you miss it.
“Six am, please.”
“Noted, Sir. Do you want me to show you to the master bedroom?” she offers.
“I think I can find it myself, Stacy, but thank you,” I notice her attire. “That skirt needs to be longer, and you'd be more comfortable in jeans or trousers. And those heels—lose 'em. I can tell they're not comfortable.”
She gives a shy smile. “Are you sure, Sir?”
“More than sure, but we’ll talk about the rest in the morning,” I assure her. As I reach out to touch her shoulder, she tenses, and I quickly pull back. “I'm not him, Stacy. I won't lay a hand on you. I just wanted to turn you around and let you get some sleep.”
Tears well up in her eyes. “Good night, Sir.”
I know how my dad treats the maids. Viola was an exception, but the rest of them have always been treated like objects of pleasure. The thought of it makes me sick.
