Chapter 21: "Open the box!"
POV: Beatrice
"I don't like to wait, especially when you seemed busy..." He said, with an assessing and judgmental look that revealed he had heard me moan, but also a seriousness on his face that made it clear I should never forget who he truly was and especially his nature.
"And I was, make no mistake about it, and I can't wait to see Andrea again when I finally return to my home," I replied, without any shame, even though I would never admit that I had been betrayed by my own thoughts, that I was having erotic dreams about the father of my child. I watched Stefano moisten his lips, for seconds, his eyes on my pajamas, a comfortable outfit that kept me cool in the intense summer heat, but with a sensual style that he tried to pretend he didn't mind, considering that the only thing he had paid attention to was my breasts and hardened nipples, outlined by the braless shirt. He didn't smile, lifting his face to me, as if he didn't take my response seriously or simply didn't care.
"I wouldn't be so sure, Miss Ricci," he said my last name provocatively as he approached a little closer, his slow and silent steps almost cornering me against the bed. I felt my heart race and my face flush, but I maintained my composure. "Anyway, I'm sure you two will have plenty to talk about when you meet again," he murmured with a suggestive look when he was face to face with me, as if he knew something more and was enjoying the doubt he had just planted in me. I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, moving away from him, avoiding any closeness, so he wouldn't see that I was thinking about what he said, convincing myself that this was just another one of his provocations.
"Yes, we will," I said, feeling that Stefano continued with his keen gaze, analyzing me. He picked up a not-so-small box from outside, examining it. His hands and body seemed less tense as he brought the object to me, his fingers tapping there. He clenched his jaw, his fingers stopping their movement. Stefano didn't hand the object to me but placed it on my sheet, ignoring my words, ignoring me.
"This is for you," he said, his deep and rough voice filling the space, economical with words, leaving much to my imagination. He knew that my curiosity was intensifying, and that's exactly what Stefano wanted.
"What is this, and what exactly do you expect me to do tonight?" I asked, aware that with Stefano, nothing was as simple as it seemed.
He directed his gaze at me, carefully avoiding his eyes from traveling down my body, keeping them fixed on my face. His expression was serious, as if he was savoring the anticipation that was clearly visible in me as I approached.
"Open it and just read the letter, Beatrice," he said, smiling slightly, and I approached, suspicious, now able to see the object up close, a black velvet box that contrasted with the paleness of his hand when he placed it there. I touched it and with a slow gesture, I picked up the box. "You'll know what this is all about," Stefano concluded, bringing my gaze back to him once again, his eyes lingering on my breasts one last time, despite his efforts. My raised the hair on end, and I felt a tremor between my legs when I realized that he didn't seem to want to look away, especially since I was probably the only woman he couldn't have in his bed right now, dragged under his feet like everyone else in town probably would be if he wanted to.
"Asshole," I muttered quietly when I remembered that, before I could stop myself. Stefano listened, his countenance changing to something like satisfaction, the muscles in his face more relaxed, when he finally decided to look away to the window in the corner of the room, putting his hands in his pockets as if he had something more interesting to analyze.
"Thinking of me, Beatrice?" He asked, realizing that my mind was focused on him, silently debating who he was, while my eyes were now on his large physical form. I put the box back on the bed with force.
"I believe I've already said everything I needed to, Stefano," I told him, trying to appear indifferent to the situation, although the memory of the fantasy I was having was still fresh in my mind. I went to the door, moving away from him, while Stefano continued to stare into space. "Goodbye, Stefano."
Stefano ran his hands over the perfectly made surface of the wooden frame that supported the high, comfortable bed, before slowly turning in my direction. As he approached me again, he leaned in, his fingers gently brushing against my jaw, and his warm breath danced against my skin. This moment stretched for a fleeting eternity, as if time were suspended, while he closely watched the nuances of my breathing, felt my body's reactions, and enjoyed the power of his proximity.
"I doubt that idiot ever fucked you until your legs gave out from shaking so much, Beatrice..." Stefano whispered, his lips lightly grazing my earlobe. "I doubt you'd be satisfied with so little." He slid his hand down to mine, and my eyes dropped to the point of contact. Our fingers touched, creating an electrifying sensation, but unexpectedly, he moved enough to abruptly snatch the device from my hand. Without thinking twice or considering anything, Stefano tossed it to the floor with a rough gesture. With a determined stomp, the sound of the glass screen shattered under the pressure of his foot and the force of his uncontrolled gesture. "I'm not leaving, Beatrice. I want to make sure you always remember that, even if I don't die, innocent lives may be in your hands. You may despise me, but your rebellion makes you someone like me, Beatrice." He resumed his whispers as his cold, skillful, and meticulous fingers delicately glided away from my face, distancing himself from me. The sound of Stefano's shoes echoed in the room, muffling the noise of my accelerated breaths. "Open the box!" Stefano ordered and no longer kept his gaze fixed on me as he returned to his original position, standing by the door, waiting for my obedience.