Saved: a dark romance Page 15

  “Don’t try.”

  I nod.

  He stares at me.

  “When will we go?” I ask.

  “I’ll leave in the morning.”

  My heart leaps with joy. He sees my elation.

  I smile. “Are you taking me with you?”

  “No,” he says.

  My expression drops.

  “Spaghetti.” He jerks his chin toward the stove.

  The water isn’t even close to bubbling. I move to it and add the sea salt and the olive oil and he sits at the bar and takes a long draw on his beer bottle, watching as I get the garlic bread ready.

  It’s all so strange. Him. Here. Jealous. Possessive. He says he’s not taking me, but somehow, I still feel hopeful about us.

  Something is going down in Mexico that he wants to protect me from. It’s the only thing that makes sense. It’s what I tell myself at night when I’m alone in bed wishing he were with me or at least watching over me. I kissed the bathroom mirror the first few nights I was here, looking into it, not like I was looking at me, but looking through it, to him watching me on the other side. And it has been killing me that he’s not actually on the other side.

  But, he’s here now.

  I busy myself, not looking at him, yet feeling his eyes follow me.

  Is he going to do sexual things to me tonight?

  My cell phone rings while I’m putting the pasta into the water. It stops my chain of thought, as he grabs it.

  “The fuck is Luc?”

  He’s saying it like ‘Luke’.

  “Luciana,” I say, “Dario’s youngest sister.”

  He passes it to me and I answer it.

  Angie had given me that phone, trying to integrate me back into society.

  “Hello?” I answer.

  “Hey, chickie. What’s up?” she greets.

  He shakes his head at me and I know instantly that he doesn’t want me to tell anyone he’s here.

  “Not much,” I fib. “How ‘bout you?”

  “Was gonna see if you wanted to come over? Ed’s gotta work and I figured we could have a girlie night in. Lisa’s coming. Tess is busy, but Bianca’s comin’. Tia, too. My kids are goin’ to bed in another hour and baby Nicky has slept through the night the last three nights so touch wood he’ll do it again. We’re gonna watch Bad Moms, eat junk food and do facials and other spa treatments. I went crazy at Sephora today and got us all sorts of fun stuff. Foot wraps, pore strips, charcoal face masks. You in? Nino can come get you when he drops Bee off.”

  Nino is Bianca the hairdresser’s husband. “Oh. I, uh… I’m gonna have to skip it.”

  “Why? Angel and Dare are out for the night. Why sit there alone? Well, I know you’ve got Willie there, but still. Come over! We’ll give him a mani-pedi and take pics of him with mud masks on.”

  She’s giggling. Poor Will has gotten stuck with a bunch of girls a few times now.

  “I’ve kind of got a headache, Luc. I’m just gonna grab a bubble bath and crash early.”

  “Oh no. What about dinner? Want me to get Ed to send some food over?”

  Ed’s her hubby and he’s the chef at their family restaurant where we had the paint night. The food is amazing.

  “I’m about to eat, no worries.” Alessandro points at the stove just as starchy water bubbles over, making a mess. “Oops, spaghetti water bubblin’ over. Gotta go, Luc. Thanks for the offer. Another time?”

  “Sure Holly. Feel better.”

  “Thanks. An early night should do it. Bye!” I end the call and start dealing with the pasta.

  “Busy social life,” he remarks.

  “They’re all trying to keep me busy. I was kind of depressed for the first bit after I got here.” I shrug.

  He watches me deal with the mess and says nothing until the food is served up and I’m sitting beside him.

  “This would’ve been cozy for you and the kid.”

  “We were just hanging out and watching movies. He’s only here because you want me watched.”

  He doesn’t reply.

  “Do you wanna watch a movie?” I try

  He shakes his head, “No.”

  “Okay, well, I hope you enjoy it. I had hoped to fine tune it and get it perfect for you but it is what it is. I’m happy you’re here.” I smile and lift the parmesan cheese and sprinkle a lot on my plate and pass it to him.

  “Want spaghetti with your cheese?” he teases. He’s not smiling but his eyes are sort of smiling.

  I smile and start twisting the pepper grinder.

  He doesn’t smile back, but he isn’t scowling, either, so that’s something, at least.

  “I take that back. Want any spaghetti with your cheese and pepper?”

  I giggle and stick my tongue out at him.

  His eyes flash with something that almost looks playful. I watch him take his first bite.

  He doesn’t say anything. I take my first bite.

  Hm. Pretty good.

  He chews, swallows, and takes another bite.

  I’m watching him eat. His eyes sweep over me.

  “Is it okay?” I finally ask, “The meatballs are made from scratch.”

  He doesn’t answer me. He keeps eating. He’s focused on his plate until it’s empty. Not a strand of spaghetti remains.

  “Do you want some more?” I ask, jokingly, I’ve barely eaten half of mine.

  He jerks his chin up.

  He does. He wants more.

  I happily pile more spaghetti and meatballs onto his plate and pass it to him. He stares at it a second, goes back to the pot and spoons out another big pile of meatballs on top then sits back down beside me.

  And I feel joy bubble up when I watch him devour every single meatball and most of the spaghetti, while I clean up.

  When he’s done, I reach for his plate and rinse it and put it in the dishwasher.

  “Esmerelda shoot her mouth off? What else she tell you?” he asks, snappily.

  I shake my head, “About that being your favorite? No. No one tells me about you. I just… I figured it out.”

  “How?” He looks skeptical.

  “Every time I had it for dinner I’d see you. Like you always asked for it when you got back from being away from home.”

  “So, Sherlock, where’s your room?” he asks, looking annoyed.

  I point. He grabs my hand and heads down the hallway to the guest room. Dario had transformed it from an office into a bedroom for me.

  My heart starts racing.

  It has a double bedroom set in dark wood with a pink and purple bedding set. Lots of pillows. Dare teased that it looked like the Easter Bunny decorated it.

  There’s a chair in the corner that’s piled with bags of my recent purchases that I haven’t gotten around to putting away yet. Dario had had a desk, futon, some old arcade games, and his Bowflex in here, but he moved the office furniture to the far end of the family room and put the Bowflex in his and Angie’s room. He put the arcade games in storage and the futon by the trash bin outside, which I thought was silly, since it seemed like a good piece of furniture and Will could’ve slept on it in the far corner by the desk. My sister’s husband said he hated it.

  “I don’t hate that,” Angie had looked kind of sad.

  He’d looked at her quizzically and then got a remorseful look on his face and he took her into his arms and was whispering something obviously sweet that made her melt.

  She later told me they’d spent their first night “together” on that futon.

  ***

  Alessandro takes his jacket off and then throws himself onto my bed. I’m just standing there while he does this. He puts his hands behind his head. I sit on the edge of the bed. I’m holding my own hand, fingers outstretched, looking at my engagement ring.

  He catches my hand, gives it a tug, and I fall onto him.

  I smile big and move in to curl up with my head on his shoulder. My heart is racing and I’m filled with excitement.

  He yawns.


  I hesitantly reach and put my hand on his belly, which still feels pretty rock hard despite the fact it has a whole lot of pasta in it.

  He lies there, not reacting. His eyes are closed. My hand moves a little on his belly and I nuzzle in, my head finding a comfy place on his shoulder. He’s asleep.

  And I lie there for what feels like hours thinking about him, about us, about what our future could possibly be…before I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

  ***

  It’s pitch black and my jeans are being pulled off me. I startle.

  “Hey.” It’s him. “It’s me.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh,” he returns and it’s dark but it’s like there’s a smile in his voice. I’m suddenly wide awake and wishing it weren’t too dark to see it.

  I glance at the digital clock radio glowing beside my bed and it’s 2:44 AM. We’ve slept for hours. But evidently, he’s not sleepy right now.

  “Are we over our carb coma?” I ask with a chuckle.

  My sweater and bra go up at the same time, over my head.

  His mouth is on one nipple, he’s twisting the other.

  My back arches and I grab his head with both hands.

  His hand goes into my panties and his fingers hit right where I need them. He circles and circles, while drawing my nipple into his mouth, sucking, and then releasing. Repeating. He then bites it a little and I squeal and grab his hair tight with both hands. It’s super soft.

  I spread my legs wider. The sensations are climbing. It’s going to hit me huge like a huge wave crashing over me.

  He stops. His mouth lets go of my breast and his hand stills, though it’s still against me.

  “You don’t forget who this belongs to,” he says and gives it a squeeze.

  “Never,” I vow.

  “You touch yourself, making yourself come these past weeks?”

  “No,” I pant.

  “No?”

  “I… I can’t.” I’m desperate for him to go back to what he was doing. I’m squirming.

  “No?” his voice is soft. I want him to start moving his fingers again. He’s still, cupping me possessively. His mouth moves to my ear, “Why?”

  “I’d see you. In my mind, I mean. I’d wish you were with me, or at least watching me. I know you’re not so I’ve had no desire. No libido at all.”

  He kisses my earlobe. “Hold my cock.” He’s on his side. I reach down and he’s naked. I guess he must’ve shed his clothing before he woke me.

  “Stroke,” he whispers.

  I’ve got him in my hand. It’s big. It’s smooth and warm. It’s rock hard, too. I squeeze and move my hand up and down and then I caress the tip with my thumb.

  “You done this before?” he quizzes me and he sounds angry.

  “No, why?”

  “You’re touching me like you’ve done this before.”

  “I watched you. The first time you… came on me. I’m just doing what you were doing. Is this okay?”

  He doesn’t answer me. His hand starts to move again, rewardingly on me, and I drop my knees and put the soles of my feet together.

  “Good girl,” he tells me and I melt.

  He must feel it because his voice is rough, “You gonna be my good girl?”

  “Yes. Always,” I whisper and there are goosebumps all over me. My nipples suddenly feel like they could cut glass.

  He stops again.

  I whimper.

  He kisses me.

  I run my free hand up his back, feeling the strength of him, feeling his silky skin. I try to match his pace with my right hand on his cock.

  He moans into my mouth in one beat, the next beat, I say “I love you,” in a whisper. He freezes, and then the beat after that, he breaks away.

  “Arms over your head,” he snaps.

  I’m temporarily frozen, speechless. It’s as if he decided he doesn’t like how this is going and is changing the mood.

  I obey, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut.

  He rises, then he’s straddling my face and I gasp as my hair is yanked back and his cock enters my mouth fast, deep. Too fast. Too deep.

  “You love belonging to me,” he grunts, “Don’t you?”

  I nod a little but there’s not much room to move as he’s essentially sitting on my chest.

  He leans and flicks the lamp on. I look up. Wow. What a view.

  “I wanna see you while I fuck your face. “No fucking body else---” he starts, through gritted teeth, and then he throws his head back and thrusts into my mouth. I choke and gag. He fists the base of his cock and keeps going.

  I grab his hips and try to pull him back out of reflex.

  I choke again.

  He throws his head back and my eyes rove over the corded muscles of his body, his throat. And down here, under him like this? It’s sexy as can be. But, he needs to slow it down a little so I can breathe.

  I put my hands to his torso and it’s like it breaks a spell. He grabs my wrists, pins them over my head, and starts going faster, deeper. I’m choking on it and it seems to spur him on to go harder and faster.

  My hands are pinned hard, my wrists are being held way too tight. It feels like he’s gonna snap the bones in them. I kick a little bit, struggling for air and he laughs an evil-sounding laugh and then growls at me as he’s thrusting into my face with a ‘take that’ lip curl. He releases one wrist and pinches my nose for a second and glares in my eyes and I’m going dizzy, struggling to breathe.

  Tears start flowing down my face. The crying kind, the choking kind, too, and I’m not sure if he’s gonna suffocate me.

  He’s so mad at me. Why is he so mad at me?

  Is it because he was getting lost in the moment, the sweet, the emotional? And I broke the spell with my words of love. And he wants me to hate him as much as he wants to own me for some odd reason, so now he’s trying to face-fuck the lovesick schoolgirl stars right out of my eyes?

  He stills with a hiss and I gurgle on the liquid that’s suddenly in my mouth. Suddenly my mascara and spit are mixed with the come that’s dribbling down my chin.

  He quickly flips me over and slaps my ass really hard.

  I’m bawling. I’m bawling and gasping for air and I feel like my heart is about to tear out of my chest.

  I feel it coming up, I’m going to vomit. I jump up and run out of the room. I hear him grunt, “Yo, the fuck back here…” and he’s quickly on my heels, but I’m in the bathroom, hurling the dinner I lovingly made tonight, straight into the toilet.

  I’m vaguely aware of his footsteps as he leaves me alone in there. When I’m done, I grab a washcloth and put it to my mouth. I go weak in the knees and wind up in a ball on the fluffy bathroom mat. I’m crying. I’m sobbing. I’m hiccupping and the shudders are wracking my body.

  After a long time, he comes back. I’m just lying there curled up in a ball, the crying over, but the shuddering not yet letting up.

  He leans down and I jolt, cowering, covering my face with my hands that are still gripping the washcloth.

  I’m trembling so hard it feels like I have zero control over my body, almost like I’m having a seizure.

  He’s giving me a look, this look I don’t know how to decipher. Guilt? Regret? I don’t know for sure. Probably not. And I don’t care. I want him to go away.

  He’s lifting me. He’s in his underwear, walking down the hall, cradling me close to his chest. His lips touch the top of my head and it physically hurts me. I choke on a sob. He puts me in the bed, gets in beside me, and throws the blankets over us.

  “Still love me?” he whispers in my ear. Like it’s a joke. A big fat fucking joke. I might actually hate him now.

  I curl the other way. He yanks me back. His hand is tangled in my hair holding the back of my head to his chest.

  He pulls hard, so that I have no option other than to look up at his face.

  “That’s a taste of what you’ll get when I finally take you home. Enjoy your time out in the wild, little fl
ower. When I bring you back, you’ll miss these days. Because that, what we just did? That’ll be your life. Tears. Fear. Hate. Struggling for breath. You’ll come to hate me so much that you’ll forget you ever had hope for me.”

  I don’t say anything. There’s nothing to say.

  “But, little flower, you’re so beautiful when you cry.” He kisses my forehead. And then he keeps me there, holding me close, as if he loves me, and it’s dawn before my eyes droop. I don’t know if he slept or if he was awake. I was in some sort of catatonic state, I think.

  I wake up alone. Alone and confused. And with this immense sadness that is making my chest feel hollow.

  ***

  I poke my head out the door toward the living room. Will is sitting on the sofa, watching television. His eyes meet mine. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t look happy. In fact, I haven’t yet seen him look so opposite-of-happy before. He gives me a business-like nod. I back into my room and go back to the bed.

  Clearly, my fiancé’d had a word with him. And then he left.

  I look around. No note. No sign he’s been here. Unless you count the big diamond on my finger.

  A little while later, as I’m in bed, a pillow over my head, my eyes sticky dry and undoubtedly red. I hear Dario and my sister come into the apartment. Dario and Will are talking. And then I hear Dario yelling at Will.

  “You should’ve called me anyway. What if he’d taken off with her?”

  I move to the door and open it a crack. I hear Will sounding defensive.

  “Dare, man. Who do I work for? You or him? You both told me it was him and then he gives me orders so I follow them and now I’m in hot water with you? The guy put a fuckin’ knife to my throat this morning ‘cuz he didn’t like how his spies showed him pics of how she smiles at me. The money is awesome and she’s a sweet girl that’s fun to hang with while I keep her safe and report her actions back to him, but I ain’t putting my life on the line for any price, man. This shit…working with you and your brother, all I’ve seen the last few months? Really not sure I’m cut out for it…”

  Yikes.

  I’m chewing my lip. They see me. They stop arguing. They leave the apartment together and Angie is standing at the kitchen island looking at me with worry etched into her features. I wave at her, using every ounce of strength in me to smile.