I took a sip of my drink and as if my movement disturbed her peace, her gaze shifted, those serene eyes rimmed with tears locked with mine. Startled by that inquisitive tightness in my chest once more, I clenched my jaw. As though she’d had a similar reaction, she swiped her tears and dropped off the balcony to disappear into her room.
Shaking my head to calm the physical reaction in my sweats, I downed my drink. Solitude was my best companion, now I needed a reprieve. Grabbing the brandy bottle from my desk, I headed for the west wing knowing I’d find it there.
30
Gianna (18 years)
My eyes fluttered open, my brain trying to process those soft sounds floating around me—a haunting melodious sound I couldn’t decipher. Sitting up, I cocked an ear to listen.It’s a piano.Even if I didn’t understand classical music, I’d heard it often when Harsh played it, to appreciate its beauty. I glanced at the bedside clock. 1.00 a.m. Sliding off the bed, I pulled on the robe Rosana had loaned me and opened the door.
The music drifted through the air, louder now that the wooden door no longer blocked its path. I stepped out onto the landing and craned my neck left and right to ascertain the direction of the beautiful sounds. Taking a few more steps, I paused realizing it was coming from the west wing. I glanced around expecting someone to jump out of shadows and repeat Leo’s warning not to venture into the west wing. Like a cat after a laser light, I followed the mesmerizing sounds. As I drew closer, the music grew louder.
When I reached the last passage, I stood with my back against the wall and peered around the corner. The air in my lungs stalled for just a moment as a vision of Salvatore seated behind a gorgeous white piano filled my gaze. Dressed in a long-sleeved white shirt, open down until it disappeared, his hair tousled from sleep and a five o'clock shadow sheltering his usually clean-shaven face, the man was hauntingly beautiful just like the music he played. Given his fearful persona, he was the last person I’d expected to find there. His body moving in tune to the sway of his fingers, his brow creased in concentration, his hooded eyes the only glint against the moonlit darkness streaming through the window at his rear, I would’ve thought him a ghost if I didn’t know better.
He seemed broody and angry all wrapped up together and I wondered why he would take his anger out on such magnificent music. Then his gaze shifted slightly, connecting with mine and my heart stopped beating. I waited for him to stop playing and come charging after me. Snarl at me for breaking his rules, lock me up in a dungeon perhaps. But he didn’t. Yet there was an uncharacteristic difference to his features, something almost gloomy, sad maybe. Then recognition dawned. Although he was looking at me, he didn’t see me. He was lost in thought, and I startled at the sudden ache that passed through me when I realized why he seemed different. Two rivers of tears ran silently down his cheeks as though he was unaware, he was crying.
Was this the reason I was not allowed to come into the west wing? Was this his sanctity? The one place he could show the emotion he denied himself. As I stood there feeling something for a man I didn’t think myself likely to love, I couldn’t help wondering what could make him appear this vulnerable. The music came to a sudden stop, and I jerked back as he stood. Scared of being caught, I glanced around for someplace to hide. Only the abrupt sound of a keypad beeping into the night, had me peeping around the corner in time to see Salvatore disappear behind large black doors. When it slid shut, I retraced my footsteps back to my room, curious as to what secrets lay behind that door.
Thirsty, I tiptoed down to the kitchen, heated some milk, and took my time to drink the warm liquid, my brain still stuck on who or what had such a dire hold on Salvatore’s emotions. Done, I rinsed my mug and went back upstairs. My feet came to an abrupt halt as my eyes fell to a wedding dress standing on a movable rail, just inside the room. Running a hand through my hair, I ventured closer.
Stunned by the beauty of the gown, the air left my body on a slow exhale. “Wow.” My admiration plausible yet I still stood precariously close to that cliff of despair.
“I’m sure it meets with your approval.”
I jumped, pivoting sharply. Salvatore stood just inside the balcony door. With his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, his open shirt draped loosely over his muscular frame, his gaze roved the length of my body. How did he get here so fast? There was an inexplicable transformation to his features. Either he’d found some joy in his piano playing or he was pleased to be marrying me. The latter seemed more like a sacrificial slaughter to me, so I went with the former.
“What are you doing here?” I finally squeaked before clearing my voice.
“Why? Scared that seeing the bride before the wedding might bring me bad luck?” his sneer wasn’t lost on me, making me think I’d imagined his earlier vulnerability. Why, if he was against this marriage, was he marrying me? I shook my head, not bothering to reply. He took a step toward me, and I unconsciously stepped back. “Bad luck and I are bedfellows,bella. We have the perfect arrangement. I fuck it in the ass and in turn, it sucks my cock when I feel the need for it.” He took another step and this time, I stood my ground, silently patting myself on the back for that courage I didn’t quite feel on the inside. “Hopefully, with you as my wife, we can have a threesome now and then.”
“Why are you so mean?” I cringed the second the words left my mouth.
His brow shot up, amusement tainting those grays a shade darker. “If I were anything else, trust me, little girl, you’d enjoy me less.” He reached out a finger, running it across my jaw from end to end. I shivered. “For instance, I could lick your pussy and you’d enjoy it. Or, I could bite your clit and you’d be crying out for more.”
My shiver became a tremble at the vision those words elicited. I knew he felt it because he took another step closer and slid his hand around my waist, his strong fingers digging into the robe. His hard cock grazed my stomach and my breath caught in my throat.
“I could slip just the head of my cock into your mouth and let you suck me slowly. Or, I could drop your head off the edge of this mattress and deep throat you until you’re gagging on my cum.”
