“Cyan has done so much for me, for my Nonna,” I whisper. “I can’t let the past interfere with my future.” His warmth still lingers in my thoughts, and I ache for more. I give this a chance I still have Rosa’s out after all. But anxiety flutters in my chest at the thought of Tasha returning soon.
How do I explain Cyan to Tasha? She’ll slice through any lie I try to feed her. If I tell her even half the truth, will she believe me or stage an intervention? Then there’s Aunt Cathy.
She’s driving down today so we can visit Nonna together, still thinking I’m dating Ethan. She does not know I don’t live in my rented house anymore. No idea there’s a ring on my finger.
I’ll tell Tasha first. She’ll help me figure out how to handle Aunt Cathy. Eventually. Engagements are long, and there’s time.
***
An hour later, showered and dressed in a simple denim maxi dress, I follow the mouthwatering scent of Rosa’s special coffee blend and breakfast down the stairs. My stomach growls in anticipation. Rosa has a gift; her cooking is divine. Hunger propels me toward the kitchen. Surprisingly, Rosa isn’t at the stove.
Instead, Cyan stands barefoot, wearing navy slacks, his back bare as he cooks sausages, looking like a woman’s walking wet dream. My eyes skim over his broad, muscular shoulders. The ink sprawling across his back is mesmerizing, shaded with intricate strokes of black and gray, the only color being the horse’s piercing red eyes. Each time I see it, I notice more detail. It’s as if the stallion might leap off his body and into reality. Cyan’s body jolts me straight back to last night when my fingers gripped his hair, encouraging his mouth on my core, while my voice echoed his name as I shattered. Mercy me, I’m hot all over. My body attunes to his nearness, as pulses of heat blossom from my center outward.
“Morning, Dove.” Cyan turns away from the stovetop with a pan of sizzling Italian sausages, which he cooked whole. I stare at the sausages, then at his chiseled abdominal muscles, and I want to scrape my nails over him there and let my hand follow the planes of his stomach downward. Maybe I’ll get to fulfil my dream from last night to feed on his sausage for breakfast instead.
“Mmm...”the moan is out. Shit–did that sound from my mouth just happen?Cyan puts the T in temptation. “Good morning, um... where’s Rosa?” I stammer. The appreciative crooked grin he sends my way as he openly checks me out makes my cheeks flush even more.
“I told the family to stay away. We need some alone time.”
“Oh... okay.” I bite my bottom lip and watch his eyes darken.
“Don’t bite your lip and look at me like that, or I’ll bend your delectable ass over the countertop, and if I start, we won’t make it to see your aunt.” My brain jolts into focus, lust replaced by panic.
“Wait. You’re not coming with me to see my aunt?”
“Of course, I am. I want to meet my fiancée’s aunt. Wouldn’t it be strange if the first time we met was at our wedding, one month and three weeks from today?”
His words paint an image of Aunt Cathy’s face as she finds out I’m marrying a man she’s never heard of.
“Wait, what? I never said yes,” my heart thudding. The walls feel like they’re closing in. His dominance leaves me breathless. But the thought of him meeting my aunt today–that’s fucking crazy.
“Dove, I’m a little confused. I don’t recall asking a question.” Like I thought, marriage to him wasn’t a request; it’s a proclamation. But desperate times call for desperate measures.
“Cyan, you can’t force me to marry you. This isn’t medieval times; there are laws.”
“Aye, of course I can. I take what I want. I answer to no one.” His declaration brooks no argument. The conversation over, I don’t let it go, though; I argue and fuss between bites of breakfast. Trying to make him understand that I’m not something to be owned. Cyan’s answer is to finger-fuck me against a wall and not let me finish. The thrill his dominance sparks in me flares.I like it.
Later, when the car pulls up to meet my aunt outside, I look like the old Aria. On the inside, the old me is fracturing, and the part of me I was suppressing before last night is winning. My aunt stands in front of my old house beside her vehicle, confusion etched on her face, as she looks at the car until I roll down the window. “Hey, Aunt Cathy.” I force my best casual smile.
“Hey, hon,” she replies, her eyes darting from me to Cyan’s extravagant Mercedes. I wish we’d taken the SUV, but Cyan insists on security. This car has bulletproof glass. If that isn’t bad enough, there’s also a full security detail tagging along today.
Johnny steps out, opens the door for my aunt, then returns to the front seat with Salvo. Inside, her gaze lands on Cyan, who sits beside me in an impeccable navy pinstripe suit. He radiates warning bells that no suit can hide. I search for words, but Cyan, ever confident, leans forward and extends a hand.
“Hello, I’m Aria’s fiancé, Cyan. A pleasure to meet you.” My aunt’s eyes widen in shock. Her gaze swings to me, waiting for an explanation. My mouth opens and closes like a fish underwater, nothing coming out.
“I wasn’t aware Aria was dating someone else,” she says slowly. “I thought you were seeing Ethan.”
Thank goodness my voice is back online as I blurt an answer. “Aunt Cathy, I’m sorry I didn’t correct your assumption sooner. Ethan and I had only one date. It wasn’t serious.”
Cyan chuckles. The sound is smooth, almost charming, but I know better. Beneath his calm, I catch the subtle furrow in his brow, the flash of danger in those glasz color eyes. “I know this comes as a surprise.” He reaches out and takes my hand into his, gripping it a little too tight, and I understand his message.
“Aria and I dated briefly when she was in college, but she ended things when her grandmother fell ill. I didn’t know the reason back then. When we reconnected, I would not let her slip away again. Hence, the quick engagement.” My aunt’s expression softens; the woman has always been a sucker for a good romance story.
“Wow, Aria. Youhavebeen keeping secrets. That explains why you hesitated about Ethan.” A faint scowl flashes across Cyan’s face at Ethan’s name; he quickly masked with a polite smile.
“So, Cyan,” Aunt Cathy continues, “do you have a last name? What do you do? You must be quite successful.” She gestures at the luxurious interior.
“I do alright,” Cyan laughs. “I’m involved in real estate investments and industrial construction, own several hotel chains, and have some interests in family businesses. So yes, I suppose I’m doing okay.” His sarcasm isn’t lost on me. “And my last name is MacBrady.”
