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1468 Words
I slid my fingers from his firm chest, feeling every muscle beneath the fabric, until I finally reached the nape of his neck, where my fingers toyed with his short hair.
"You’re handsome," I murmured, tracing with my nail the ink of a tattoo that started on his neck and disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt.
He set the glass on the bar and caught my hand, watching me with the exact lust I needed to forget my miseries.
"You look like someone who doesn't know limits," he said, dropping his voice an octave.
"Oh, yeah?" I arched an eyebrow, provoking him, pressing my body against his until I completely invaded his personal space. "Limits are for boring people," I pleaded, like a b***h in heat.
The man licked his lips, locking that intense predator's gaze on my face. The grip on my waist tightened, digging his fingers into my trembling skin.
Fuck, his touch sent a terrifying and exciting current traveling straight to my womb.
With a wicked giggle, I straightened my body and stood on my tiptoes, just enough for my lips to graze his sharp jawline.
"Help me forget," I insisted with a slurred tongue.
For a second, my vision cleared and I saw a dangerous, bluish glint in his eyes before his hand circled my neck with a possessiveness that left me breathless.
"Are you sure?" he asked with a cynicism loaded with dark promises.
The pain of betrayal evaporated, replaced by a s****l tension so thick it could be cut. I didn't know his name or his profession, I couldn't even focus clearly on his face, but my instinct pushed me toward him.
His large, calloused hands traced paths of fire across my skin, awakening a heat that made me tremble.
"I'm sure," that simple phrase resonated from my lips.
Within an hour, I was already in a luxury suite on a massive bed with a huge man standing before my eyes.
I bit my bottom lip, detailing every damn inch of his body.
He wore a costly black suit that fit his enormous frame perfectly. He was tall, with a muscular chest and arms full of tattoos and veins that looked like they would burst at any moment.
However, all my attention focused on the vibration of the mattress when that massive stranger leaned over me, reaching his hands toward the hem of my dress.
"I will give the instructions," he ordered with an authoritative tone that allowed no rebuttal. "I want you to look me straight in the eyes and not suppress a single moan."
"And what if I don't?" I challenged him in a whisper.
That predatory smile returned to his lips.
"You will," he decreed with absolute certainty. "I'll give you plenty of reasons to do so."
I couldn't even process his words before his hand moved up my inner thigh, suddenly clutching his fingers over my panties, wrenching a gasp of surprise from me.
The tingling in my belly descended, lifting my body upward as if seeking more of his touch.
"Perfect," he whispered, finally bringing his lips to mine.
***
The sun's rays blinded me the next morning. Upon waking, I looked around and, in a split second, I sat up with a start. I wasn't in my bed, or my room... I wasn't even in my house. I was in a f*****g suite!
Black curtains, marble floors, and a scent of lust and alcohol reigned within the four walls, while all my clothes were tossed on the floor next to what looked like men's clothing.
I quickly shook my head and tried to sit up, but a sharp sting in my belly stopped me. In that second, everything that had happened the night before hit my brain.
I had given my virginity to a stranger!
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," I recriminated myself, covering my face with my hands.
But just at that moment, the sound of the shower put me on alert.
With my hands trembling and my eyes wide as saucers, I turned my gaze toward what seemed to be the bathroom. Was he still there?
Fuck! I didn't hesitate; I jumped from the bed to the floor and started picking up my clothes, dressing myself clumsily.
I couldn't bear to look at that man's face after giving myself over like that. What would he think of me?
So I grabbed my phone and ran out of the suite.
However, when I finally arrived home, reality hit me like a thousand bullets.
"Harper! Where the hell were you?" Janeth dragged me by the arm toward the entrance. Her grip hurt my sensitive skin.
"Mom, let go... it hurts," I begged, but she ignored me.
"I've been waiting for you for two hours! I had to pack for you while you..." She leaned in to smell me and her eyes widened with disgust. "Have you been drinking?"
"It's not what it looks like..."
"Stop complaining and get the suitcases out. I don't want Thomas to think you're an alcoholic," she said, drying my tears with a handkerchief and applying powder to cover my mess.
***
Through the window of the armored car, the outside world seemed to fade away, replaced by a private road flanked by ancient oaks that closed over us like the claws of a giant.
When the vehicle finally came to a halt, the air escaped my lungs.
It wasn't a house. It wasn't even a mansion. It was a monument to excess, a fortress of white stone and glistening glass rising against the gray sky. The Russo property was easily three times larger than my entire university’s main campus.
"It’s… it’s a castle, Mom," I whispered, feeling a sudden wave of nausea.
"It’s our home, Harper. Get used to it," she replied, touching up her lipstick with hands that no longer trembled.
The car door was opened from the outside by one of the men in black. As I stepped out, the chill of the entrance marble seemed to crawl up my legs. At the top of the main staircase, he was waiting for us.
Thomas Russo was exactly as the rumors described him: imposing, wearing a suit that likely cost more than my entire education, and a smile that didn't reach his shark-like eyes.
"Elena, darling," he said in a perfectly modulated baritone, kissing my mother’s hand before fixing his attention on me. "And you must be Harper. Welcome to the family."
"Thank you, Mr. Russo," I managed to say, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
"Thomas, please," he corrected, though his tone gave me a slight case of the chills. "Come in. Let me show you where you will be living from now on."
The tour was a torture of opulence. Thomas walked with the confidence of a king surveying his domains. Each room was more oppressive than the last: double-height ceilings with frescoes reminiscent of ancient churches, crystal chandeliers casting elongated shadows, and marble floors so polished I feared leaving the mark of my cheap shoes on them.
"This is the library," Thomas said, pointing to walls covered in books from floor to ceiling. "And further ahead, the banquet hall. My company is run with the same discipline as this house, Harper. Here, everything has its place."
And I am not one of those things, I thought, with a hollow smile.
I tried to feign calmness for my mother, who looked at the bronze statues as if they were sacred treasures, but the atmosphere was too frigid.
Finally, we reached the Grand Hall, a circular room with an imperial staircase that branched off to the upper floors. Thomas stopped in the center, beneath a chandelier that looked like an inverted crown.
"Martha," he called to a maid who appeared out of nowhere, dressed in an impeccable uniform. "Go get my sons. Inform them that our new family has arrived and that I expect them here for the official introductions."
My heart skipped a beat. Sons. Stepbrothers. I knew Thomas had offspring, but in my mind, they were abstract figures—rich kids who were probably away at some boarding school in Switzerland.
I waited in silence, standing beside my mother, who squeezed my hand with unnecessary force. The sound of footsteps on the upper floor echoed like hammer blows.
"Father, there’s no need to send anyone!" A youthful, familiar voice rang out from the stair landing.
I froze. That voice. That spoiled-brat cadence I knew all too well.
I turned around slowly, praying to whatever god was listening that it was a hallucination. But it wasn't.
Caleb was descending the first few steps with one hand in the pocket of his designer trousers. When his eyes met mine, there was no surprise—only a cynical, triumphant expression.
- Writer
