CHAPTER 16
1157 Words
—Dominic—
“Is this the part where you pack your bag and leave my home?” Madeline asked, eyes fixed on Elisa.
Elisa and Androa exchanged shocked glances.
Silence fell in the foyer.
I pulled out a fresh cigar and lit it.
Twenty-four hours.
Twenty-four hours away from this house pretending distance would clear my head.
It didn’t.
Not when traces of her followed me everywhere; on the plane, in the car, and the hotel suite. A silent obsession that made the high-stake meeting across the city feel like a distraction.
The prototype gleamed under the lights. Sleek. Deadly. Beautiful. One pull of the trigger was enough to convince the client.
“We'll take it,” he said.
Of course, he did.
“Fifty-eight,” I said.
“How about fifty?”
“A hundred.”
He blinked hard and glanced at his men, then mine. He knew if he downplayed again, I would triple the price this time. They knew the rule. He was just stupid to mess with it.
The champagne tasted great.
But not enough to erase her pictures from my head.
The way her eyes shone when I had her cornered in the hallway... how her lips quivered under the moonlight on the rooftop.
My Little Bird.
In that moment I knew I had to head back home.
And I did.
This morning, I had walked into the dining room to the sight of her seated behind the table, and for the first time since I left, I smiled.
“No, cara,” Androa stuttered, tightened his hand around her wrist. “We shouldn't send her out.”
“Why?” Madeline held his gaze. “Why's that?”
“Elisa is an orphan. She doesn't have any family to go back to.”
I almost laughed.
But that'd make it obvious. The lies. The manipulation.
A narcissist would never change... they'd only change victims. Some parasites literally alternate the chemistry of their hosts to ensure their own survival.
Madeline pulled her hand away. “There should be boundaries, Androa. I don’t see why she still needs to live under the same roof with us.”
Elisa scoffed.
She folded her arms and stepped away from the couple, probably realizing she was the odd one in the room.
I puffed and watched my father try to touch Madeline, but she took a step back. And another.
“Just give me some time to figure this out.”
“I knew it was a lie. If you'll excuse me,” she said, and headed upstairs.
My brows lifted in surprise.
Little Bird was growing claws by the minute, and I loved it.
Androa met my gaze.
“What is wrong with her?”
I exhaled a smoke. “Like what?”
“She never used to talk back.” He shrugged. “At least, not like this.”
Elisa hissed and stormed out of the foyer, her footsteps faded down the hallway.
“Perhaps you simply haven’t been a good husband.”
He took my cigar and sighed.
“What does it matter? Like I told you, women are made for our satisfaction, not the other way round.”
“Respect matters,” I cut in.
Androa laughed.
“What do you know? You've never been in lov—”
He stopped right there.
Too late, my fingers clenched by my sides.
“Control your mistress, dad. The next time she disrespects Lady Morvanti, she leaves this house permanently.”
I walked back to my room and shut the door behind me.
The space stared back at me.
Black marble, smoked glass, and dark oak turned the suite into a monument to control. The scent of cedarwood and expensive scotch drifted in the air.
I went straight to the bar, fingers already loosening my cufflinks. Poured a drink and settled into the chair behind my desk.
A knock rapped on the door.
“Come in.”
Marco stepped inside and shut the door carefully behind him.
“Any feedback from the investigator?”
Marco shook his head. “But he promised to get back to us this weekend.”
“Keep eyes on Madeline,” I said. “If danger gets within breathing distance of her, I want to hear about it first.”
Marco smiled. “You’ve never ordered protection detail on a woman before.”
“Get out.”
“Yes, sir.”
He shut the door after him and silence reclaimed the suite.
I sipped the drink. The amber liquid rolled over my tongue, mixing with the lingering sweet-salty taste of her.
My hand moved before I could stop it.
My fingers closed around her panties. I stared at the red lace still wet on its delicate part.
One sniff—
And I was back in the dining room.
Her trembling thighs. Flushed cheeks. Swollen lips.
No.
I tossed the panties onto the desk and turned to my computer. I tried to focus on the screen. Shipment routes. Numbers. Contracts. Things that normally held my attention within seconds.
Weakness was dangerous.
Need? Worse.
And Madeline was quickly becoming both.
Yet somehow, she still lingered here.
My eyes dropped back to the lace on the desk.
I picked it up and inhaled deeply.
The tightness in my pants was unbearable, the restraint I’d spent years building slipping.
Damn it!
I swept a hand under my belt. Undid my zipper. Wrapped my hand around myself.
A low sound rumbled my chest.
I leaned back in the chair and my mind shifted once again to the dining room.
Stroked once. Twice.
The room faded.
All I could see was her spread across the dining table for me. Flushed. Trembling. Eyes glazed with pleasure while trying so hard not to break apart in my hands.
Fvck.
My jaw tightened at the memory of her gripping the table. The way she covered her mouth while I ruined her.
My strokes turned rougher.
I could still taste her on my tongue. Still hear those broken little sounds she tried to hide while I dragged the orgasm from her body.
The image of her arching beneath me snapped the last thread of control I had left.
“Fvck!”
Release tore through me hard and violent, spilling into my hand as my chest heaved. Calmer. But nothing close to satisfaction.
I stared down at the mess I'd made, and suddenly, tomorrow night felt too far.
A knock sounded on the door.
I washed off in the bathroom and walked back to the room.
“Open.”
The door opened and two servants wheeled in lunch.
I wasn't hungry. Not for this kind of food.
“Take it back.”
They froze and quietly hurried out with the food, shutting the door after them. I looked down at the lace bunched in my hand.
“Little Bird... you have no idea what you're doing to me.”
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