Chapter 84 Double Agent
❦ Rosalind ❦
The house loomed before us like a stranger when we walked in.
It was his house, but he looked at it like an uninvited guest. His shoulders were tight, hunched close to his ears, and guilt pressed a hot weight into my chest.
What did it feel like to come home and not remember?
Enza was the first to rush forward, wiping her flour-dusted hands on her apron. Her face broke into a smile.
“Don Marino,” she greeted warmly, bowing her head.
Beside her, Isa clasped her hands wordlessly. Her eyes shone as if she might cry.
I half expected him to falter or hesitate. To give away the truth that he had no idea who they were or what they meant to him.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he stood taller and spoke in an even voice. “Thank you. It’s good to be back.”
The ache in my chest deepened.
I reached for his hand, tugging him gently toward the stairs. “Come, I’ll take you to the room. You need ro rest.”
He stood rooted in place, looking past me into the kitchen.
“No,” he said quietly, but firmly. “We’re going to the kitchen.”
I blinked. “The kitchen?”
He turned those storm-gray eyes on me. “Cook me something.”
My mouth went dry. Out of all the requests in the world…
“I… uh… cook?” I stammered, and Enza, bless her, bit back a smile before slipping out with Isa. The two of them conveniently vanished to leave us alone.
He was serious.
And so, with my pulse pounding in my throat, I opened cabinets I barely remembered ever touching, fumbled through drawers for pans, and prayed I didn’t embarrass myself into exile.
I could practically feel his gaze burning into my back as I pulled ingredients together.
In the end, I made the simplest thing I could manage, spaghetti aglio e olio, garlic and oil, something you couldn’t ruin unless you burned the house down. Even then, it was a close call.
When I set the plate in front of him, his brow arched in silent amusement. He twirled a forkful, tasted it, and then leaned back slowly.
“Less than I envisioned you capable of, tesoro.”
I scowled at him, though my heart thudded at the pet name. “Good thing you have a housekeeper and cook then, isn’t it?”
His low chuckle slid down my spine like velvet.
I turned to the sink. Desperate for something to do, I scrubbed the pot and pan I’d used with shaking hands.
My shoulders stiffened when I felt him move behind me. His shadow blanketed me. His heat sank into my skin as he leaned over, caging me between his arms and the sink.
The smell of him, clean soap and smoke, coiled around me.
Then, lips brushed the curve of my neck.
My knees nearly buckled.
“Thank you,” he murmured against my skin, and every nerve in my body melted into a puddle of trembling goo.
I gripped the edge of the sink for dear life, biting my lip to keep from whimpering.
And God help me, I didn’t want him to move away.
“Adrian’s waiting for me. I’ll see you later,” he said.
“Can you manage on your own?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
His smirk was instant, “You think I can’t walk down a hall?”
I shot him a look and pointed at the crutches he was conveniently leaving behind. “Not without those.”
He groaned under his breath but picked them up anyway, muttering something about stubborn wives. My lips curved despite myself.
When he disappeared into his office, I stayed behind, scrubbing dishes until my fingers pruned.
Afterward, I climbed the stairs to the room I occupied, changed into something comfortable, and opened my laptop.
The economics program I’d registered for was waiting for me. I tried to focus on the lecturer’s voice, on graphs and formulas, but exhaustion pressed down on me until my head dipped forward, and I drifted off right there at the desk.
The next thing I knew, I was weightless.
I startled awake to find myself in Viktor’s arms. His hold was solid, and he carried me down the hallway as if I weighed nothing. My heart stuttered when I realized where he was heading.
The master bedroom.
He set me down on the bed, leaning over me with a dark stare. “Why were you sleeping in another room?”
Panic fluttered in my chest. I couldn’t tell him about the war we’d waged before his accident. Not now. Not when I liked this… gentler Viktor far too much.
“It’s just my private space,” I lied softly. “Somewhere I retreat when I need to be alone.”
His jaw flexed. “You belong here. With me.”
My cheeks burned as I nodded. “All right.”
Guilt prickled my skin. Because part of me wished he’d never remember.
I swallowed that thought down and asked instead, “Any leads on who tried to kill you?”
“Adrian’s on it,” he said flatly, the subject closed.
Evening shadows stretched across the room, and I excused myself to take a shower. I had barely stepped into the bathroom when his voice rumbled behind me.
“I’ll join you.”
My pulse went haywire. I wanted to tell him no, that he should rest, but the words tangled on my tongue. Because no matter how different he felt, he was still my husband.
Steam curled around us as the water hit the tiles, anticipation buzzing in my every nerve. I couldn’t look at him directly or bring myself to make the first move no matter how much I wanted it.
But then he did.
He pulled me into his chest and kissed me… slow, sensual, and consuming. Nothing like before. I closed my eyes and sank into his touch.
His hands rose to my cheeks, then slipped to my shoulders to turn me around. His large hand reached for a bottle over my head, flipping the cap open behind me. The scent of flowers filled the air just before his fingers sank into my scalp.
A needy groan escaped my lips.
He chuckled behind me. “Good?”
I couldn’t answer. I could only melt beneath the steady, rhythmic massage as he worked shampoo into my hair. It was so intimate. I’d never felt so cherished.
When he rinsed me clean, he bathed me, and I returned the favor, my hands trembling over his body, avoiding the bandages, lingering on hard planes of muscle.
He stayed achingly hard the entire time, but he didn’t do anything else. He dragged it out, and the anticipation nearly broke me.
We stepped out of the shower, and he wrapped me in a towel, then rubbed lotion into my skin with slow, careful movements. I mirrored him, each touch stoking the fire until it nearly consumed us both.
And then he carried me to bed.
I tended to his wounds first, changing the bandages on his head and chest. My hands trembled as his eyes locked onto mine. When I finished, he rolled over, his body covering mine.
His lips trailed down my body, his tongue and mouth pulling pleasure from me until I shattered, and when he came back up, he kissed me deeply, making me taste myself on his lips.
“Viktor…”
“Shh,” he breathed.
I pushed him gently onto his back, giving him back what he’d given me. The sounds that tore from his throat unraveled me, and soon I straddled him cautiously because of his injuries.
Every thrust, every kiss burned into me until he finally broke character, speeding up and rutting into me until we both collapsed into the sheets, spent.
He drifted off, his breathing evening out almost instantly.
I should have joined him.
But guilt gnawed at me. Reaching for my phone, I typed quickly:
To Dante: Get me everything on the auction. And prepare liquidated cash. We’re buying the Grand Marlow back.
I hit send, staring at the screen’s glow before locking it. Then I turned, pressing my face into Viktor’s chest, wondering how much longer I could balance this double-edged life.