Chapter 35: THIRTY FIVE

CELESTIA

Raffaele stood there, arms crossed, his biceps twitching under pressure and fixed me a look of his hardened resolve. Moving a mountain or wishing for God seemed practical than clashing with him right then.

It was a battle I’d never win.

But that doesn’t mean I’d go down without a fight.

Marching over, I picked up the clothes and moved towards the closet.

“I am not changing in front of you.”

I half expected him to object or make a fuss, but he didn’t. Thankfully. Once I was away from his hard stare, and safely inside the closet, I started to undress. Shrugging off the floral dress, I grabbed the bland uniform—a buttoned blouse, skirt, and apron.

The moment I put it on, I realized the horror of it. The bloody thing was at least a size or two tighter than me. The buttoned blouse clamped the assets in such a manner that not only the nipples were erect, but the breasts were pushed up. Even the first two buttons of the blouse were missing.

The skirt, oh, my god! It was A-line and mini, barely covering anything on the front or the back. And the apron looked like a child’s bib. When I turned to my image in the mirror, I couldn’t believe my eyes.

It was every bit indecent and that of a harlot.

For a brief second, I considered skimming out of it and walk back to the room to throw it out his face. But what was the alternative? He’d gladly make me strip and enjoy the show. And it’s not that he had not done that before.

What was even more disturbing was the fact that I would get aroused and demand more of it. Sighing, I swallowed against the heat that swept over me.

“Are you going to hide in there like a frightened little mouse?” His voice drifted in and intruded my trance.

Gathering up the tattered modesty and shredded self-respect, I returned to the bedroom. If there was any sense of satisfaction I felt, it was in the fact that his precious things suffered as much as my decency.

My eyes fell on him, leaning back on the couch like a high and mighty king as he looked at me over the rim of the coffee cup. When his hands lowered, I saw how his fuller lips curled and stretched into a smug smile, all the while raking his gaze up and down my body.

A blaze of heat chased down my spine, centered between my legs, and flushed my cheeks. And I had to swallow the realization and put on a mask of anger to hide it.

“You have everything you need in there,” he rumbled casually and pointed to a corner behind my back where a cleaning cart was already wheeled in. Must have been brought in by the maids earlier, I assumed.

“Don’t you have to go back to work? Blackmail and kidnap people who hurt your delicate-as-a-flower ego?” I snarled.

“I took the morning off,” he informed delightfully. “So, I can supervise the cleaning of the room.”

I glanced around the place briefly. “Do you seriously expect me to fix this room?” I huffed. The damage was so grave that one would require more than three fairy godmothers to whisk their wands and tidy up the bedroom.

“Humor me anyway.” He smiled.

“I…I can’t!” I almost stomped my foot and balled my fists. “Not in this outfit, at least.”

“Well, take it off and make yourself comfortable, then.”

My eyes narrowed in slits. There was no point discussing with him because he was beyond reason and beyond mercy. I took full responsibility for kicking the hornet’s nest, but I was not a bit sorry about it. In fact, there was a sense of satisfaction in letting him know that it was me.

Grumbling, I moved towards the cleaning cart and grabbed the apparatus to clean the floor. Someone had already swiped the shards of glass aside, but there was still a considerable amount of garbage and pillow filler littered around.

The next half an hour went by, sweeping away the cotton fluffs and shredded curtains. When I had to bend over and pick up the trash off the floor, Raffaele’s intense gaze leered over my exposed ass. My muscles twitched and clenched at the thought of the obscene view he enjoyed without reservation.

Once or twice, our gazes locked and battled before he would order me to get back to work and chide me for dawdling. Grunting, I cursed him to my heart’s content before resuming again to cleaning.

His bedroom, supposedly the master bedroom of the villa, was equivalent to two suites of a luxury hotel. Hence, cleaning was not a joke. But, if I failed to do that, I’d have to beg his mercy or apologize. And that wasn’t an option.

Forty-five minutes into the cleaning, and my head felt a little light. A rumbling knot coiled tighter in my stomach, and no matter how much I tried to shove it back, it wouldn’t just go.

Gripping the edge of the bed, I sank to the floor and fought hard to calm the ragged breaths. Somehow, it didn’t help. Nothing helped. There was a blackness dancing on the edges of my vision, and I could feel the beaded sweat trickling down the side of my face.

What the hell was wrong with me?

“Celestia?” A voice drifted over like an echo, and before my mind could chase it down, I fell.

RAFFAELE

I didn’t know what was more amusing—the fact that she stubbornly clamped down her apology or the fact that the dress gave me wild fantasies. Every time she knelt or bent, the skirt rode higher and bared her thighs.

I imagined skimming my fingers across her smooth skin, and she would gasp, I would yank down the black panties she wore just so I evidence her wetness. Fuck, when did I turn into a horny teenager?

This whole fiasco was about teaching her a lesson, and right now, the way my cock strained beneath my slacks, it felt like I was punishing myself.

Shaking my head, I shifted on the couch—the only piece of furniture that escaped her wrath. Although, I could not say the same about the tiny comfortable cushions. When my eyes caught her form, Celestia knelt by the end of the bed, fisting the torn covers with one hand while the other pressed down on the floor. The way her head hung down, out didn’t look like she was cleaning.

From my position, it seemed like she was panting.

“Celestia?” I slowly approached her with unsure steps. “Are you okay?”

Her head lolled back, and before her body hit the ground, I caught.

Fuck. The second time now, she fainted on me.

I laid her on the couch and pushed away the matted hair stuck over her sweaty face. Thankfully, she regained her senses, but the dizziness lingered. When I cupped her nape and held a glass of water to her lips, without protest, Celestia gulped in.

“Are you feeling better now?” I asked, searching her face. She was still sweating, but a notch better than before.

Celestia gave a weak nod and started to rise.

“No, lie still.”

I perched on the table, running the knuckles over her jawline and contemplated calling the doctor. When she labored breathing steadied a little, she turned her to look at me.

“Why do you faint so often?” I asked softly. “The last time the doctor ran your blood work and found nothing. Is there any particular medicine you take?”

Celestia bit her lips and shook her head. “The breakfast,” she mumbled. “I shouldn’t have skipped that.”

“You came in here almost ninety minutes late,” I tried to keep the irritation out of my voice. “What were you doing?”

She winced and dragged her eyes to the ceiling. “I took an extra-long bath to kill time.”

The little she knew that she couldn’t get away from this conversation. I took her pointed chin between my thumb and forefinger and returned her attention to mine. “Fine,” I clipped. “I get it that you were trying to piss me off. But what about last night’s dinner?”

She swatted my hand away and threw me a glare. “I lost my appetite after whatever happened.”

My anger fuelled. This was no longer the game I enjoyed. “And last night, you were drinking wine in an empty stomach?” The voice rose with each word.

Celestia stared at me, half-guilty and half-shocked. “I…I didn’t know that. Besides, I would have completed my dinner if you wouldn’t have interrupted. So, it’s your fault. Not mine.”

Unbelievable!

I walked over to the closet, reaching into my gym bag for any leftover yoga bars that I could find. Fortunately, the stock was full as I grabbed a couple of them and went back.

“Eat,” I instructed, handing her one.

She gazed between my hands, made a face, and grabbed the other one with cranberry.

“What? You have problems with cashew too?” I asked since she detested chocolate.

“No,” she answered with her mouthful and arched up. “I just like cranberry better.”

“Jesus Christ!” I mumbled, massaging my temples. At this point, to hell with the fifteen million. I wanted her out of my life before she drove me anymore crazy with her curves and her antics.

The color of her cheeks slowly returned as she chewed on the yoga bar and sat up straighter on the couch. A long silence stretched between us.

Every time I saw her like that, vulnerable, I felt the discomfort. It was too difficult to tell anyone when I was still battling with the explanation. And out of nowhere, Amadeo’s words from last night invaded my head.

Maybe, last night was my fault.

When she was done eating and wiping the mouth with the back of her hand, I gently took hold of the wrists.

“What are…”

“Quiet, Celestia, please.” To my surprise, she actually clamped her mouth shut. Absently, the pad of my thumb circled over her pulse as I mumbled, “I am sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have mistreated you.”

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