We lay like that for a long time, a tangled mess of limbs, our bodies slick with sweat, our breathing ragged and uneven.
I don't know how much time has passed, but the candles have burned down, their flames casting a warm, flickering glow over the room.
Her fingers eventually stop their stroking and fall limp, and I know she's asleep.
I've never felt so content, so at peace.
This is where I'm meant to be.
This is home.
Chapter Twenty Seven
Olivia
The next afternoon, I’m humming under my breath as I push my office door open with my hip. I’m in flats, hair up, a soft sweater. It’s a good thing I keep an extra set of clothes in my office.
After… everything last night, Roberto brought my clothes to me, so I wouldn’t have to be seen still wearing my gown early this morning, running to my office. That wouldn’t do. That wouldn’t do at all.
Last night was… Wow, is all I can think.
A romantic dinner, dancing, then the kind of night that doesn’t just turn your bones loose, but removes them completely.
Waking up tucked under Roberto’s arm with his breath warm against my neck was thrilling. I don’t know anything else that could top that.
Now, I’m heading back to my office after an incredibly successful weekend that I planned.
And I have plansto see Roberto again tonight.
Could a Monday possibly get any better?
I set my bag down, drop into my chair, and wince at the pain in my thigh. Then I grin and give my chair a little spin.
Turns out, Roberto was right, and I was just out of my mind with pleasure. He was definitely right not to bite me anywhere someone could see.
Though the thought of it makes me wet. Idowant him to bite me visibly, tell everyone exactly who I belong to, but it’s just not a good idea. What he ended up doing is pretty good, too.
He was right. I do feel it no matter what I do or how I move.
Getting out of bed this morning was quite a task. I was sore all over; still am. My legs from practically being bent in half, my pussy from the fierce pounding, and my thigh where he set his teeth and left a deep mark.
I hope this one lasts me weeks.
Doing a little happy dance in my chair, I scoot it in and open my laptop, ready to work. The screen springs to life. My legal pad sits where I left it, top page flagged with quick notes from last night.
That jogs the memory of the odd comps I spotted—too generous for the play attached to them. I pull up the comp program, run the same filters, sweep the last twelve hours, then the last twenty-four.
Nothing new pings. It eases something in my chest, but the whole thing still feels wrong.
I tab over to the draft I started for Caterina and stare at the half-line. No. Not like this. Not in messages. I highlight the text and delete, then type: “Can we meet when you’re free? As soon as you can.” Send.
I knock briskly on Caterina’s door and wait for her to say, “Come.”
I walk in and find her reading something on a tablet, hair in a low, braid, jacket off, sleeves folded to the elbow.
“Olivia. Good timing. Sit.” She sits back and smiles.
I close the door behind me and take the chair across from her.
