“I made a few calls, sir,” Brahms says as he comes to stand next to me. “As you suspected, Lucrezia Saccone is Mrs.Ruffo’s half sister. They have the same father. With Ms. Saccone changing her last name more than a decade and a half ago, that detail didn’t immediately come up in my background search. I apologize for the oversight.”
“I want everything there is to find on the Saccone family on my desk first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Of course. Anything else?”
“Start digging into how I can shred every aspect of Lucrezia Saccone’s life. From the trust fund given to her by her stepfather to the doctorate she supposedly earned. I don’t care if you have to track down every single one of her professors and manufacture evidence that her thesis was plagiarized. Get it done.”
“I understand. What’s your preferred timeframe, sir?”
I let my gaze slide from my wife’s face to the makeup-concealed mark I left on her skin last night. The mark given to her by herlover.The mark she tried to hide.
“Two months,” I reply. Long enough so Little Iris won’t suspect that I’m behind her half sister’s, and the rest of the Saccones’, upcoming destruction.
My wife may not hold a grudge against Lucrezia Saccone, but I don’t possess her finer qualities. I remember all too well the hurt and anguish in Iris’s voice as she told herguestabout her interactions with her half sister. She probably held a lot of the negativity back, not exposing her sibling’s true nature. Something that Lucrezia Saccone and her family will pay for. And if she ever guesses at my involvement in bringing down the people who’ve hurt her, so be it. It’s hardly the worst thing my wife knows about me.
Brahms gives me a nod and retreats. I’m left alone to resume watching my wife as she chats with Barty. To relive every single moment of our night together. Every touch. Every quiet moan. The way she threw her head back as she came, screaming out her pleasure. Forhim.
If I had even an ounce of self-respect, I would have burned that damn club to ashes the second she left it this morning. Destroyed the site of her infidelity. Demolished it so she wouldn’t be tempted to come back.
So I won’t be tempted, either.
Instead, I reach into my pocket to pull out my phone. And I dial Maggie’s number.
Chapter 29
I let the door shut behind me with a soft click, and I lean against it, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves. I shouldn’t be this anxious. It’s just another night at the Annex, another night in the room I’ve spent so much time in before.
No sooner do my lungs fill with air than that familiar ocean fragrance washes over me, invading my senses. My body tenses. He’s here. Right in front of me. All the times before, he waited for me on his sofa, more than a dozen steps from the door. But not tonight. I wouldn’t be able to smell his subtle cologne unless he were next to me already.
Two soft thuds—one on each side of my head—and the heavy door groans a little, as if a strong force just pushed on it. That scent of sea breeze becomes more intense until I feel the warmth ofhisbreath fanning my face. My pulse stutters and then takes off to heights unknown. Even with the blindfold tightly tied over my eyes, I can practicallyseehim, caging me in with his arms braced against the door.
Slowly, I reach my hand out until my fingers brush the fine material of his dress shirt. Is it the navy one? It’s my favorite. It contrasts so beautifully with his crystal-blue eyes, like seeing an iceberg in deep waters. God, I love his eyes. Wish I could see him for real. Watch the heat swirling within those pools as he looks at me.
I move my fingers up along the line of the buttons, and his breathing picks up. The top two buttons of his shirt are already undone. No tie. That’s strange. And he’s not wearing his jacket. The swarm of butterflies in my stomach takes frantic flight. I’m so used to Adriano always being impeccably dressed, in a sharp-pressed three-piece suit most of the time, that his current state is flooding my core. Is he as eager for us to be together as I am?
“I’ve been thinking about you,” I whisper.
A low, rumbling sound emits from his throat, breaking the charged silence. I tilt my head, my lips brushing his.
“About how you make me feel. As if, one moment, I’m walking across a high wire, afraid to slip…”—I undo the next button—“and the next, I’m in the safest place I could be.”
Another growl.
Heat races across the back of my neck as his fingers glide over my skin, along my spine, pausing at the base, where the ties of my dress are laced in a bow.
“Tell me, my silent guest… Which of those two is true?”
In one forceful tug, he undoes the ties and the remnants of my composure. The silky fabric cascades off my body like falling water to gather at my feet.
His huge hands slide under my ass, and he lifts me. My back collides with the wooden surface of the door, and a gasp escapes from my lips. His hard mouth crashes to mine, merciless and unforgiving. Stealing my breath.
I wrap my legs around his waist and bury my fingers in his thick hair. And I kiss him back as if there is no tomorrow. As if we only have tonight. With the game my husband is playing, I can’t be sure that it isn’t true. But I shove that fear away andsurrender to this moment. Let myself fall off the wire, knowing exactly where I will land.
The coolness of the door disappears. Only a slight awareness of being carried penetrates the haze gripping my mind. Nothing seems to matter other than his ravenous lips and the warmth of his body as he clutches me to him. His presence surrounds me. Overwhelms me. In the best possible way. Like being possessed. Consumed. Claimed. And I want more. Need more…
I fall on something soft and satiny. Pillows. Sheets. A stray thought flutters at the back of my mind—there shouldn’t be a bed in this room—but it dissipates the moment I feel his mouth on the inside of my thigh.
His palms glide up my legs, and his lips follow, trailing a line of light kisses up one side, and then the other. He hooks his fingers around the strap of my thong over my left hip, and with a single sharp tug, my panties are no more. His lips continue their upward path. Is he going to…? No, he can’t be. Wetness rushes to the apex of my thighs. My pulse kicks up, heart beating wildly inside my chest as if trying to break free, each thud louder than the last as his mouth drags dangerously closer to my pussy. I gasp for breath. Oh God. The idea of Adriano Ruffo burying his face between my legs seems preposterous. A man like him… He can’t actually want to—
