Chapter 34 chapter 34

Chapter 34 chapter 34
Not only had he seen right through my behavior, but he read my deepest, most shameful inner defenses as if they were an open book. I was completely dumbfounded, unable to form even a single coherent thought. That raw truth, spoken in his deep baritone voice, paralyzed every one of my defensive reflexes more thoroughly than any physical blow. Before I could turn my head away or force out a hate-filled “fuck you,” his free hand slid downward. His wet, large fingers pushed mine aside and closed around my painfully throbbing cock with an unyielding, possessive grip. I gasped loudly as he began to massage me with precise, murderous regularity. “Let… me…,” I croaked, but the word died on my damp lower lip. My body surrendered completely to his physical dominance. The wall of denial I’d painstakingly built up over the years—the fantasies about Briana, the normalcy of college—all shattered into a thousand pieces. With every movement, his naked erection rubbed mercilessly between my buttocks, and the thin thread of my self-control snapped for good. “Say my name, Nico,” he whispered in my ear again, and his grip tightened, driving me mercilessly over the edge. “Say it.” I threw my head back against his shoulder, my eyes tightly closed, as pure, untamed lust surged through my veins like a tidal wave. My whole body trembled under the icy stream of water. I was helplessly at his mercy, trapped in his hand, and as the climax swept over me with brutal force, it burst out of me. “A­les­sandro...,” I moaned hoarsely into the steamy air of the bathroom. I came with a violent, uncontrolled spasm right into his fingers, while the hot semen mixed with the cold shower water and was washed away from the floor. My knees buckled beneath me. I would have simply collapsed onto the wet tiles if his steel-hard arm around my chest hadn’t kept me on my feet. My breathing came in gasps, my forehead rested limply against his wet shoulder, and a bottomless, hollow emptiness spread through my chest. Alessandro held me for a few more endless seconds, felt the violent after-shaking of my weakened body, and enjoyed his total triumph. Then he slowly loosened his grip. He took a step back, out of the stream of water, and left me standing against the tiled wall. I slowly turned around, wiped the water flatly from my face, and stared at him. He stood completely naked before me, the water beading off the tattoos on his broad chest, and his gray eyes fixed me with that ice-cold, sinful bullet-hole charm. His own erection was still hard and demanding, but he made no move to take what the contract allowed him. He had humiliated me. He had shown me that he could control my thoughts. That was enough for him for tonight. Good night, mio sposo, he whispered, and a dark, dangerous grin crept onto his lips. That was only the first lesson. Tomorrow I expect you promptly for breakfast. And don't you dare think of another woman again when I am in the same house. He turned around, strode with slow, predatory steps through the bathroom, and closed the connecting door to his wing behind him. The soft click of the lock echoed from the tiles like the dull thud of a guillotine. I remained standing alone under the cold water, hands pressed flat against the wall, while my head was still stunned by the disbelief. He had known. He had destroyed my whole charade with a single sentence. And the worst part was: I had moaned his name. Alessandro's Perspective The next morning came with a gray, foggy light that lazily ate its way through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my study. I sat behind my dark walnut desk, the sleeves of my white shirt already neatly rolled up to my forearms. A black espresso steamed in front of me, its bitterness matching the exact taste I had had on my tongue since last night. I hadn't closed an eye all night. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt the violent, uncontrolled trembling of Nicolai's body under my hands again. I heard his rough, tormented panting in my ear. And above all, I heard him moan my name forced, humiliated, but with a pure, naked intensity that scorched the blood in my veins. I looked down at my right hand, which was still lying flat on the shiny tabletop. I had let him have his face smashed in front of everyone in the De Laurentiis salon. I had accepted that he beat my lips bloody, only to completely dissect him psychologically in his own shower afterwards. The fact that he had tried to cling to a girl in his head to some fading memory of his clean art student life had driven me into a blind, possessive frenzy. I didn't want any more charades. I didn't want him to run away from himself. If he wanted to survive in this hell, he had to feed the monster his father had buried five years ago. And I was more than ready to seal off the enclosure. A loud knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts. I didn't even need to ask who it was. Antonio pushed the door open, a broad, impudent grin on his face while he carried a thick, black leather folder under his arm. He walked straight toward the couch in the sitting area and threw me a telling look. Good morning, Chef, he muttered, and his gaze wandered amusedly to the fresh bandage on my temple. I see the Sunday dinner was a complete success. The De Laurentiis really know how to entertain guests. And your husband? Is he still alive or did you finally bury him in the garden after your little hallway action? Shut up, Antonio, I replied flatly without raising my voice. My poker face with bullet-hole charm was sitting absolutely perfectly again. I took a sip of the hot espresso. Get to the point. What do you have there? Antonio just shrugged his shoulders and opened the folder on the table. The logistics reports for the new drug route through the port of Genoa. Viktor wants us to completely take over the De Laurentiis warehouses in the Northern Sector within the next forty-eight hours. And he wants your new jewelry boy to personally authorize the handover. His signature is on the contract after all. I slowly leaned back in my armchair and intertwined my fingers. A cold, calculating smile crept onto my lips. Brilliant. That was the perfect opportunity to test how much of the murderous De Laurentiis heir was still left after last night. He will do it, I said calmly. Are you sure about that?, Antonio asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically. The boy almost knocked my eye out last week when I wanted to bring him an omelet. If you force him now to sign over his father's own territory to us, he will probably take half the office apart for you. He has no choice, Antonio. He knows clause three of the contract. Disciplinary enforcement in case of non-compliance. I put the cup down and stood up. In my full height, I towered over the desk while the tension in my muscles showed under the fabric of my shirt. Besides, today is the day his little shadow arrives. Sebastian. Antonio instantly lost his mocking grin. His expression darkened as he thought of the bodyguard whose ribs he had broken a few days ago. This bastard is coming here? Into the estate? As Nicolai's personal right hand, I nodded, and my gaze turned icy. My father agreed. Rafaele wants to plant his spy in my house, and Vito is presumably hoping that Sebastian will find a loophole in our surveillance system to get Nicolai out of here. They are testing our fronts. They want to see if I have already broken their prince. I stepped in front of the desk and grabbed the drug file. A sinful, murderous sparkle entered my gray eyes as I thought of the upcoming breakfast. Nicolai might think he could hide behind his hate. He thought the kiss in the car and the breakdown in the shower were just a slip-up. But this morning I would show him who dictated the rules in this house. Let Sebastian in when he comes with the boxes from the university, I ordered Antonio as I walked toward the double doors. Put two guards in front of Nicolai's door. And tell the kitchen to set up breakfast for two in the large dining room. My husband will not refuse a single calorie this morning. And if I have to feed him myself again. I pushed the doors open and stepped into the endless, silent hallway. The game for the port of Genoa had begun and I would make sure Nicolai De Laurentiis fired the first bullet himself. I sat at the table in the grand dining room and stared at the damned document about the new drug route through the port of Genoa. The coffee in front of me was black, bitter, and hot, but it didn't come close to the heat that had been stuck in my bones since last night. Every time I blinked, I saw Nicolai in front of me. How he pressed himself against me under the cold water, how he croaked my name completely done for, humiliated, but damn it, with such intensity that I almost blew a fuse. I had expected him to come in this morning like a heap of misery. Or that he would throw the coffee in my face to save his De Laurentiis pride.