From the Baroness’s Diary III

Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I pace the kitchen in a torrent of emotions.

It has scarcely been ten days since I was with Chloé, and I already feel mad with desire. Every time I look at her, I see nothing but guilt on her face.

I want Chloé to get past her inhibitions of sharing s*x with us. I want to free her.

I feel like punching a wall, I want her so much.

Just then, Salvatore enters.

Lucky bastard, to have had her first. Her heart is truly his. And he can have it. I don’t care so much about her heart as her breasts, her ass, that sweet p***y that I buried my c**k deep within.

I’ll take those, even if I have to share them.

“Well?” I ask, impatient, pouring myself a glass of the vineyard’s finest wine and downing it in one gulp. “What did she say?”

Salvatore leans against the table and shrugs. “She told me she needed to think and ran away.”

I find myself licking my lips, hungry for another taste of her. “But she didn’t say no?”

A smile pulls at the corners of Salvatore’s mouth. “Correct. She did not say no.”

I drive a fist into my palm. It might be a premature celebration, but I can feel it. This is going to happen. “When do you…”

“She did not say yes, either. Give her time, brother. This is new to her.”

He pours himself a glass and clinks it to mine, as if we are already celebrating, and we sit down to drink and plan.

As we finish our first glasses, Chloé wanders in.

“Oh,” she says, surprised to see us both and starts to back out. “I did not know you were here.”

Salvatore kicks out a chair. “Please, join us. We were actually just talking about you.”

Reluctantly, she sits.

Salvatore takes another glass from the cupboard and sets it in front of her.

She drinks her first glass greedily, as Salvatore discusses banal things like the weather of late and if she wants to go to the vineyard later tonight to watch the vendemmia.

I watch her, wanting to put my tongue between her luscious pink lips. When I can stand it no longer, I blurt out, “Have you come to any decision about what Salvatore asked you?”

She nearly chokes on her wine.

Salvatore gives me a damning look, but I ignore that, impatient for an answer.

She lifts her chin, so f*****g sexy, and says, “Non. I have not. I have too many questions.”

“As in?”

She looks around to make sure no one is listening, then whispers, blushing, “Would you share me equally?”

Oh, yeah. She is hooked in already. I look at Salvatore and we nod.

Her eyes widen. “Both at once?”

We nod again and I add, “If you wish.”

She licks her lips tentatively. Her breath comes out slow and raspy. “And Angelo?”

“I have seen the way Angelo looks at you,” Salvatore says. “But he is still so young.”

She raises an eyebrow. “How young?”

“Only twenty to Salvatore’s thirty-five and my forty,” I mutter, starting to put the cards on the table. I drain my glass and add, “But he is…a bit backward. We do not think he has known the love of a woman.”

She gasps, her cinnamon eyes widening. “That can’t be true. Someone as handsome as he must have had his share of—”

“He’s quiet, has a chip on his shoulder, for reasons we are not quite sure, but we have a hunch…well, his reasons are his own and if we get him to agree to our plan, he’ll probably explain them to you,” Salvatore says ruefully. “We thought that perhaps he was…gay, but then we noticed the way he looked at you, Cara.”

“Me?” She bites her lip.

“We believe that all he needs is an understanding lover, who can help him.”

She purses her lips and then puts her hands on her hips. “You two have discussed this at length, I see. Without me. Am I not the most important person in this arrangement?”

“Indeed you are,” Salvatore says, reaching for her hand. “Cara, we intend to worship you, to put you on a pedestal and adore you like the beautiful goddess you are.”

I nod, fighting the urge to take her right there. To bend her over the table, lift her skirt, and enter her, inch by inch. It’s been only ten days, but it seems too long. I can’t wait. If she says no…

“I…” she begins, looking at each of us. “I think I would like to go to church. To pray.”

I drop my hands to the table with so much force that it shakes. Openmouthed, I look at Salvatore, who shrugs good-naturedly. I’ve always been the more hot-headed of the two of us, but how can I possibly wait any longer?

“Whatever you want,” Salvatore says as he motions for me to close my mouth.

Which I do after hastily adding, “We’re here for you.”

Praying? Now? For f**k’s sake!

After the naughty girl she’s been? The woman is made for sin, pure and simple, and nothing can change that. But she was raised in a convent, so I guess it’s natural for her to seek some kind of advice. Hopefully, she will not want to confess this mess to the new priest. Dio.

“We live to serve,” my brother tells her—half-serious, half-mocking—offering her his bent arm.

She looks at him, then at me and lets out a suffering sigh. “You two are going to make my life hell, aren’t you?”

I wink at her. “Or heaven, depending.”

Shaking her head at me, she takes Salvatore’s arm and leaves the room.

Still…she hasn’t said no.