“That’s it,” he grunts against my neck. “God, baby, that’s it. You’re doing so fucking well. Come on my cock.”
Everything shatters.
My pussy clamps down on Ras again and again, each spasm making my toes curl and my legs twitch. I’m delirious with pleasure as I grab onto him, my nails carving half moons on his muscular back.
He keeps going for another few pumps before he groans, spills himself into me, and holds me even tighter than before.
My forehead falls against his shoulder. I’m not sure where he ends and I begin.
“Fuck,” he pants. “It’s a miracle I’m still standing.”
I thread my fingers through his hair and press a kiss to his shoulder. There are no words.
Eventually, he pulls back and kisses me.
Takes me into the shower.
Cleans me.
Puts me in bed.
It all blurs in a tender, languid haze.
The last thing I remember before I pass out is him scooping me against his chest and his heart going ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum against my cheek.
CHAPTER 25
GEMMA
The bed is empty when I wake up the next morning.
There are voices coming from the living room. It’s Ras and Cleo, but I can’t make out what they’re saying.
I sit up in bed, noticing the slight ache between my legs, and that’s all it takes for last night to come flooding back to me.
Ras and I had sex.
And God, if it wasn’t everything I wanted.
I drag my palm over my cheek and wrap it around my throat, remembering how he held me.
I don’t regret it. Not a second of it.
Whatever happens now, it was worth it.
Gingerly, I swing my legs over the side of the bed, and my gaze lands on the bedside table.
There’s a box on it. Plan B. Ras must have gotten up early to buy it this morning.
For a second, I allow myself to wonder what would happen if I didn’t take it. If I got pregnant with Ras’s baby. There’s a perverse kind of pleasure at allowing my mind to wander in that destructive direction, like when you’re driving down the highway and you imagine what would happen if you swerve into the incoming lane.
That would be one way to call off the wedding.
What would Rafaele and Papà do then?
They’d probably try to kill Ras.
And they’d probably kill the baby.
I pop the pill out of its packet and swallow it dry.
I pull on the party dress from last night, leave the bedroom, and find Ras and Cleo having espressos in the kitchen.
His hazel eyes lift to mine.
There, I see all the same emotions that are currently tormenting me. Longing, despair, and a stubborn kind of joy at what we did last night.
Despite everything.
Despite having to survive this morning where reality is like a prison around us.
“Coffee?” he asks in a voice so afflicted that even Cleo notices.
She looks between the two of us, her brows pinching together. “Did I get you in trouble, Ras?”
Ras’s expression flattens, his mask once again in place.
If only Cleo knew the trouble we’re both in now.
She finishes her espresso. “Is Papà mad at you about what happened with Ludovico? I’ll tell him there was nothing you could do. You were watching Gemma.”
“Don’t worry about me,” he tells her, going over to make me an espresso even though I never answered his question. “We’re all just glad you’re okay.”
When he hands me the espresso, our fingers brush.
Sparks. Electricity. Goosebumps.
I sip on the bitter drink and look out the window.
It’s snowing again.
We get home an hour later. The car ride is tense. I catch Ras looking at me, and there’s something wounded in his expression.
I remember how he tried to convince me to leave, and how I shut him down over and over again. I might have hurt him, but it’s for the best. I can’t risk getting him sucked into this mess.
“Mamma?” I call out as I take off my jacket, surprised she’s not here to greet us. She’s been blowing up my phone with messages all morning.
The door to Papà’s office swings open, and he comes out clutching his cellphone in his hand, looking like he just hung up on someone.
The expression on his face makes my stomach drop.
It’s been a while since I’ve seen him this furious.
“Where’s Mamma?”
Cleo takes a step forward. “Have you heard—”
“Pietra left an hour ago to go see Ludovico’s mother. Ludovico is dead.”
There’s a twinge of relief inside my chest. Good riddance. It’s a horrible thought, but after last night, it’s clear he wouldn’t have made Cleo a worthy husband.
I wonder if Papà even bothered thinking about what a poor match those two would have made. Probably not, since everything Papà does is in his own best interest.
It’s hard to believe that wasn’t painfully obvious to me until recently.
Cleo is damaged goods as far as everyone is concerned. Papà knows he can’t lie about her being a virgin. Cleo would never go along with that lie. He decided to give her to Ludovico so that the man would keep breaking his back for him.
At least he’d get something out of it.
“Ras, leave us. I need to speak to my daughters.” Papà’s tone brokers no argument, but Ras doesn’t move from his place behind us.
I glance at him over my shoulder and give him a barely there nod. He clenches his jaw, and then he hesitantly walks in the direction of the kitchen.
Cleo and I follow Papà into his office. The air vibrates with tension, and the house is deathly quiet. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn Papà has sent the servants away. He’s done that before when he was so angry he couldn’t stand the thought of seeing anyone in his space.
“Sit down,” he barks.
Cleo and I exchange a look. She didn’t do anything wrong. Ludovico crossed a line and paid for it. Papà can’t blame his death on her.
“We’ll stand,” Cleo says.
“Suit yourself.” Papà plunks an empty glass on his desk and splashes some whiskey in it. He downs it in one go. “Ludovico was one of my top earners. An excellent asset. You knew this, Cleo. It’s why I wanted you to marry him.”
“Yes, I know. I was to be a reward for good work,” she retorts.
I close my eyes. My sister’s brave, but she can be so damn stupid. This is not the time to push Papà’s buttons.
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
“As soon as we got to the club, he wouldn’t leave me alone. He was grabbing me, Papà. Trying to pull me on the dance floor and grinding against me. It was disgusting.”
“You made a scene?”
“When he tried to kiss me, I punched him and stomped on his foot. That made him mad. He was about to hit me when Rafaele stopped him.”
Papà’s mouth becomes a thin line. “You provoked him.”
“Are you kidding? I didn’t provoke anything.”
“Don’t lie to me!” He jumps out of his seat, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. His eyes are wild with anger. “I know how you are, you ungrateful brat. You made him mad. If you’d just danced with him like he wanted you to, all of this could have been avoided. Instead, you had to humiliate him in front of nearly everyone important in the family. What the fuck am I going to do with you? No one will want to touch you with a ten-foot pole after this fucking mess.”