Chapter Nine
1789 Words
Niko
The drive home last night was anything but serene. Bianca was quiet, too subdued for what had taken place in the Moretta's kitchen, and my c**k was raging, a good one unlike ever before.
Claiming her, if that's what it's called, is something I never imagined would turn me the hell on, yet there I stood in Dimitri's kitchen kissing the hell out of her only moments before that retched bastard would walk in to witness me—claiming her.
It was awfully perfect timing if you believe in fate, which I don't, but Luca does. And fates never mistreated him.
I had hoped Bianca would allow me to continue whatever that kiss was, to explore one another. But she refuted me the moment I tried to lean over in the car to kissher. Her hands pushing me away, her head turning to the side, was a sure f*****g message we wouldn't be continuing that little slice of heaven I tasted. What had felt like a breakthrough was anything but, and that pissed me the hell off.
I shook my head at her, fuming with a string of Italian swear words that I rarely ever used, and then I slammed my way out of the car, not giving her a second glance back.
I hid upstairs, working out before I did some work in the study on the lower level. I avoided Bianca until I had no choice but to go to my office.
Tonight, she left the bedroom door open. A direct line of sight from my bed to my desk was my worst nightmare come true despite making a point of placing my desk at that particular angle in the past to do just that with the girls I demanded lay naked in the bed for me. There wasn't a chance in hell I would walk past the door without glancing at her, and with the raging hard-on I was suffering with, I feared for her. But Bianca wasn't in bed. Instead, just when I thought the coast was clear, she cleared her throat from my desk and sat with two of my guns on the desk before her.
"What the f**k?" I muttered, moving towards her in a rush.
"I found your stash," she shrugged nonchalantly.
"You had no right."
"I had to put my clothes away somewhere I could hang them." Her eyes raised to mine with challenge.
Yeah, her clothes. The ones I brought online in an impromptu online shopping visit because I was fed up with her borrowing clothes from Emma.
I didn't want my soon-to-be wife to look like my recently uncovered sister.
"Right. They arrived...Are they to your liking?" I ask, grabbing both of my guns. She follows their assent into my hold, looking forlorn.
"I was contemplating shooting myself," Bianca calls after me as I walk into the bedroom, headed for my closet to polish them and replace them in their cushions. I come to a halting stop, opening both barrels to find them still empty. I emptied every gun I owned the night Emma told me to find a new home for them. All the bullets remain locked away in the safe hidden behind the picture of my mother in the office.
"Why didn't you?" I ask.
"They were empty," she notes. She's closer this time. Turning, I see her standing in the bedroom doorway, looking at me. Shock consumes me, followed by rabid anger. Why would she?
"For good reason, apparently," I act like I don't care, moving off again to do as I originally intended.
"Would have been cleaner. Easier for you," she argues.
"Easier?" I question on a huff.
"You wouldn't have to marry me. I wouldn't have that guilt," she remarks.
"Guilt? What guilt do you have, Bianca?"
"Your leggy blondes," she hisses. I turn back to find her right behind me, her snarl ending on blondes.
"I don't know if you haven't noticed, but I f*****g want you," I tell her.
"That's all for show," she argues with me. It's as if she's searching for something, anything to prove she's the poor little girl being forced into this proximity marriage. It's as if she wants to be the victim here.
Reaching for her wrist, I fight with her as she tries to backstep on me. When I get her under control, I press her palm against my rapidly hardening c**k. It's the same old reaction I've had for days around her.
One that perturbed me at first, but now, I accept it.
I want my f*****g wife.
Who the f**k knew I would fall for a typical little Italian girl that resembled nothing of the English blonde whores I've surrounded myself with for years?
"That evidence enough to get over your fake guilt?" I ask her.
Her words failed her, and rightly f*****g so. She has no clue what she's talking about, and she has no clue how I feel.
"Stop assuming and start f*****g looking around you, Bee," I fume before turning away from her to get back to my tasks at hand, completely ignoring her sorry excuse of attitude.
She marches after me, stopping beside my desk as I'm about to sit down. My eyes travel from her knees up as something unfamiliar overtakes me and begs me to drag her onto my lap. It's the same something that's had me making unusual decisions regarding her since Dimitri demanded I marry her. It's only now that I feel this way that I note her in the skimpy lingerie babydoll in that deep Scarlett red that matched the dress you wore earlier.
It clings to every f*****g curve of her body, the swell of her hips, her arse and her breasts.
"f**k," I mutter, pulling her into me, leaning down to kiss her lips as the need overrides any other thought circulating in my mind.
"No," she stutters that godawful word once again. It stings. Stings like a b***h.
She leads me down a crossroads that usually wouldn't be a possibility, but her words from earlier come back to me and show that the vulnerable need to take charge of the situation using the word no had some meaning behind it.
I want to know why she feels so profoundly regarding having control, and I fear the worst.
I watched her regard me with fear-driven eyes while I debated whether I should act on impulse or really consider whether I respected her answer.
Pushing her away, I decide on taking a different path, the right path; I forgo my work, exiting my office like my arse is on fire, slamming the office door to make a point of my unhappiness.
Reaching inside my pocket, I take out a spliff, lighting it instantly. I had planned to go to the garden, but I noticed Luca was entering his office, so I floated that way instead.
Fuck our rift, there's no one I can talk to but him.
When I enter, he's leaning back into his office chair, sighing to the ceiling, his phone all but forgotten on the desk. His hands are hanging by his legs, and he twitches every so often. I should probably allow him to have this moment of peace, but he owes me after all.
"She's doing my nut in," I spit his way, slamming his door before I beeline for my chair. I throw myself into the seat, intent on letting him know he's in for a s**t time with me.
"What did she do now?" He asks me with disinterest, his eyes rolling back in his face dramatically.
"What hasn't she done?" I throw at him, thinking about telling him everything but also feeling guarded at the same time.
Do I really want him to know I like, like her?
I pull on the spliff, filling my lungs with the cannabis as I articulate my following words.
"I'm not allowed another girl, but I'm not allowed her either?" The words come out as a half question.
"So?" He murmurs.
"She declined me, two seconds away from kissing her f*****g annoying mouth, and she pushed me away with a smirk and walked the f**k away. I'm gagging here, I haven't had any for weeks, and there she is walking around my room, almost butt f*****g naked, goading me like a f*****g snake." I don't mention she's wearing the clothes I brought her, and I don't tell him about the kiss in his parent's kitchen. I left his imagination to create images of his will.
"You dirty liar, you like it," he smirks so I smile back indulgently.
Okay, okay. Maybe this is the most challenging feat I've had with a woman in many years. Yeah, it's annoying as f**k, because girls throw themselves at me on any other given day. But I guess I was ready for change; it just sucks Moretta was the one to line me in the direct path of said change.
"Fine," I shrug. "The chase is enticing, but she better watch out, or I might just push her facedown in the mattress and take what I want."
I won't; I value her too much to do that. Besides, I'm not a f*****g r****t like the rest of these lot.
"Wait for your wedding night; she can't deny you then. And if she does, you'll enjoy it all the more," he laughs, though his tone is serious, as if he's warning me not to do precisely that.
Standing, I walk to the bookshelves, decanting whisky into the tumblers waiting for me.
Luca's quiet, waiting for me with hooded eyes that give barely anything away, though I can tell he's watching, thinking. Summarising.
"Here," I offer one glass quietly before I move to stand behind him. I look out her window into the garden and watch the night sky roll across the horizon.
"Thanks—. Niko?"
"Yeah?" I say between mouthfuls of his finest.
"I'm sorry, Fratello." It's been a while since he called me brother. It started to feel like we lost that bond. Maybe it's salvageable after all.
"S'alright. I get it now. These women, they make you go crazy," I smirk sadly.
I guess now I can see why he's been so funky around Emma. I can relate if she infuriates him half as much as Bianca does me.
"That they do," he chuckles. I turn to him, slapping his shoulder much as I would before we argued over Emma. Things feel better and more complete tonight than they have in a while.
"All's forgiven," I confirm with him.
"Not sure I deserve it, but thanks," he admits.
"Tutti commettiamo errori." We all make mistakes, I shrug, and I'm not different.
- Writer
