“Let’s go back to your Pop’s place,” I tell her. “There are things to discuss.” Like how he and I are going to decimate the last of my father’s holdings and take over this city.
“You really want to hang out with my father?” She still seems confused by this new turn of events.
“You mean instead of my own?” I flick a backward glance over my shoulder, and she nods. “Sweetheart, in one day, your father showed me more paternal attention than mine did in a lifetime. Did he try to kill me?” I shrug. “Maybe. But he was looking out for you. I’d kill for you too.” Her eyes widen.
“Raoul…” She stops when I pause and raise her hand to my lips.
“I mean it, Buttercup.” God, I really do. I’d move heaven and earth to make this woman happy. “Now, let’s get away from the stench of that piece of shit.”
My father can rot in hell…and I’ll see to it that he gets there.
Chapter 11
Emma Caraldi
“Are you okay?” I ask as we reach the cool sanctuary of the apartment. Our apartment. It’s taking me some time to get used to the idea that this place is home. It’s not like I’m not accustomed to luxury, but Raoul’s penthouse is something else.
“I’m good,” he says vaguely, heading toward the bar that stretches along one side of the living area. It’s gold and green, inlaid with intertwining gold vines – a replica of a Perrier Jouet champagne bar he saw someplace and decided he wanted for himself. It’s a strangely feminine feature in a room that’s so masculine, and yet, like everything else about this damn man, it just works.
“You sure?” I press, watching as he splashes liquor into a tumbler and then makes his way to the grand piano. A moment later, notes fill the air. “You’re not okay.” He’d been almost too upbeat when we went to my father’s place earlier, and now that we’re home, I can feel the darkness of his mood descend. I move to join him, running my hands over his shoulders as his fingers stroke the keys.
“My father…” He exhales as he trails off. He’s playing something classical. I don’t recognize it, but it’s beautiful and melancholy. And it makes me even madder because I know it’s a mirror of what’s in his heart right now.
“Your father’s a fuckin’ cuntfaced gobshite!” I impulsively spit, reliving those moments in the hospital. I’d never seen such venom directed at someone who was supposed to be a loved one – Ernesto Caraldi is pure poison.
I feel a shudder beneath my fingertips and knead the tight muscles of Raoul’s shoulders…until I realize that he’s laughing.
“Oh, Buttercup…you really do have a way with words,” he chuckles. I snort dismissively. “But for once, I’m not going to argue with you,” he adds.
“You don’t need him,” I say bluntly, stopping when I realize the next words I want to add are,“you have me.”
“Damn straight.” He pauses his playing, reaching for his tumbler and taking a sip.
“I mean it, Raoul.” I tug his shoulder slightly, moving us around until we’re facing each other. “You are so…fucking…worthy,” I say fiercely. “And that man.” My breath rushes from my nostrils. “That man is pond scum!”
“I know, Emma.” Silver eyes seek mine, then soften when I take his face in my hands.
“I don’t really think you do.” My lips brush his before I pull back slightly. “I’ve seen how you do things. So much of who you are is based on proving something to the world. Proving something tothat man. But you don’t need to.”
He nods without speaking, eyes still locked with mine. And then his hands move up my forearms as he eases me closer until I’m straddling his thighs on the piano bench. My lips part again as he prompts the next kiss, and I sink into the warmth of his mouth.
Fuck. This man makes my toes curl.
I’m breathing hard when our lips pull apart. He smiles wickedly, sliding his hands along my thighs.
“I like that you wear dresses more often now,” he says, pushing my skirt up past my knees. I don’t mention that it’s because my favored Levis have been feeling a bit snug lately.
“You do?” I ask, nipping my lip when his fingers move up my inner thighs.
“Oh, yes.” He glances down. “Gives me better access to that pretty pussy of yours.”
I fight back a little moan as his fingertips graze the satin covering my mound.
“Are you trying to change the subject, Mr. Caraldi?” I ask hoarsely.
“Maybe.” He grins at me. “Would you like me to stop…Mrs. Caraldi?”
“Oh, hell no!” I shake my head vigorously. “You go right ahead with whatever you had in mind.”
