The Price (House of Sin Book 5)

by Elisabeth Naughton

  “Boy, you are a mess,” she said in a soft voice as I lowered the mug to the table. “Don’t worry, though, I’ve got cosmetics upstairs. We’ll get you fixed up before you have to see him.”

  I wasn’t sure why she was being so nice to me. Or what she was doing here. “How...? Are they done?”

  “Almost. I called your cell, but you didn’t answer. So I came down looking for you. Glad I caught you before you went up.”

  This was all too surreal. Too much. I braced my head in my hand. “Y-you don’t seem surprised by this. By me.”

  “I’m not. In this job, I’ve seen my fair share of stressed spouses and family members. You’re a little more anxious than most, but it’s understandable, all things considered.”

  I had no idea what that meant, and I didn’t want to give away anything more than she already knew—whatever that might be.

  “Don’t worry.” Her hand closed over mine against the mug. “Abigail is very good at what she does.”

  I closed my eyes, fighting back another wave of sickness because I didn’t even want to think about what Abigail “did.” Or was doing upstairs with my husband.

  “It’s all very innocent, I promise,” Eve said with a smile in her voice, as if she’d read my mind. “They’re just talking. Abigail has a way of getting to the root of what’s really bothering a person. And she’s been dealing with Entente families for a long time. Things will be better after this, trust me.”

  I wanted to believe her, but I’d learned not to believe anyone in this world. “Are you sure?” I glanced up at her. “They’re just talking?”

  “Absolutely. Abigail and Felicity Merrick have been friends for years. Felicity called a few days ago and said you or your husband might be making an appointment. Then she threatened Abigail within an inch of her life if she did anything to mess up your relationship. To be honest, I think Abby was a little afraid to meet you.”

  Some part of me was thrilled by that news—although mutedly so.

  I drew in a shaky breath, fighting the panic that still wanted to pull me under, trying to forget what had happened in that darkened entryway. “This is all my fault,” I whispered. “All of it. He wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Yes, it is.” I slid both hands into my hair and fisted the locks, pulling just hard enough to send a shot of pain across my scalp. “If I hadn’t stuck my nose where it didn’t belong, Luc would still be in New York. None of this would have happened to him. His family wouldn’t have their hooks in him, trying to drag him back like they’re doing now.”

  “Listen to me.” Eve’s fingers tightened around mine. “I don’t know the specifics of what you’re talking about, but I do know this. You’re not responsible for anyone else’s actions. And it’s a waste of time and energy to play the I-shouldn’t-have game. You can’t go back and change the past. You can only make a conscious decision not to repeat past mistakes.”

  I knew that. I did. But knowing and believing were two very different things. And I’d already made another huge mistake. I’d made a deal with the devil himself, and now I—we—were about to pay the price for that deal.

  I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes and fought back the tears that wanted to overwhelm me. I was scared Luc was going to take one look at me and know what had happened today with Gio. But I was even more terrified he was going to hate me forever when he realized what I’d agreed to.

  “There’s good in this world, Natalie,” Eve said softly, oblivious to the true turmoil swirling inside me. “I know it’s hard to see that right now, but it’s true. Not everyone is like the people you’ve met. If you look for it, there’s more good than bad out there. I promise.”

  She was wrong. The world was ruled by evil people who cared nothing for others. Those of us who actually gave a shit were the ones who were doomed to suffer for all eternity.

  11

  Luc

  Natalie was quiet on the drive back to the estate. I couldn’t blame her. I knew it had been a stressful afternoon for her.

  I was quiet too, still processing everything Abigail and I had discussed in our session. And I was trying to figure out how to share some of it with Natalie without stressing her out even more.

  I parked the Lexus Fee and Marco had left us to use in the drive. As we moved into the house, Natalie set her purse on the kitchen table and moved toward the fridge. “You’re probably hungry. I’m sure there’s something in here I can make for di—”

  “Not yet.”

  I closed my hand around hers and tugged her toward me. She turned surprised eyes my way and pushed the refrigerator closed as I pulled her in, but I didn’t let that stop me. As soon as I felt her soft body brush mine, I sifted my fingers into her hair, tipped her face up to mine, and lowered my lips to hers.

  Her hands landed on my chest, and she tensed against me. It was a very subtle movement, but I felt it. And I knew it was because this day had not gone as either of us had hoped.

  I wanted to change that. I was desperate to show her just how much she meant to me.

  The kiss was gentle. Soft. And when she sighed and opened, relaxing just the slightest bit against me so I could taste all her warm, wet sweetness, it was all I could do not to dive in and devour her. But I didn’t want to do that. I had something else in mind. Something I hoped would prove to her I was still the man she remembered.

  I was trying desperately to get back to him, at least.

  I drew away from her lips long before I was ready. “You’re tired.”

  “I-I guess I am.” Her gaze dropped to my chest, almost as if she was having trouble looking me in the eye. “It’s been a long day.”

  It had been a long couple of weeks. And I hadn’t made it easy on her. I’d realized that today, and I was determined to fix that as well.

  I brushed the silky hair back from her eyes. “I’ll make dinner.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I know you’re tired too.”

  “I’m not, really.” She still wouldn’t look at me. Just kept staring at my collar as if she was afraid of what she’d see in my eyes. I was going to fix that too. “And you’ve been doing all the cooking. It’s time I started pulling my weight around here.”

  “I’m not that hungry, so it’s fine if you don’t want to make anythi—”

  “No arguments. I know you haven’t eaten today. Besides, you haven’t had my spaghetti alla carbonara yet. I make a mean bowl of pasta.”

  That pulled a reluctant smirk from her even if she still wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Mean, huh? I do like pasta.”

  “Good.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead. “While I cook, I want you to relax.” I let go of her and moved to the fridge to grab a bottle of white. “Get me a glass?”

  She stepped toward the counter and retrieved a wine glass. Bringing it back to me at the table, she said, “I thought you liked red.”

  “I do.” I popped the cork and filled her glass. “This is for you.”

  “Oh, I’m really not thir—”

  “You’re full of all kinds of arguments tonight.” I pushed the glass into her hand. “Hold on to this.”

  “Wh—”

  Before she could protest more, I swept her up into my arms. She bobbled the wine but quickly wrapped her free arm around my shoulder and held on. “Luc, what are you doing?”

  “Taking care of you the way you’ve taken care of me. Stop fighting me on it and just give in.”

  “Okay.” She relaxed against me as I headed up the stairs. “Point taken.”

  Just the fact she was conceding so quickly told me how worn out she really was. I didn’t like that. I didn’t like seeing her stressed. I knew it was all because of me.

  I carried her into our bedroom but bypassed the big four-poster bed and headed for the bathroom. Setting her on the counter near the sink, I said, “Don’t move.”

  “What will happen if I do?” she asked as I turned away from her and rea
ched for the spout above the tub. “Will you spank me?”

  A wicked burst of heat rolled through me. One I hadn’t felt in a really long time. I glanced over my shoulder at her. “I just might.”

  She didn’t respond. Just looked down at her wine with a forlorn expression, one that made me ache to kiss it from her lips.

  I resisted the urge only because it wouldn’t help her relax right now, and flipped the water on. As the tub filled, I turned back to her and reached for the hem of her sweater. “Arms up.”

  She set the glass on the counter and lifted her arms so I could pull the sweater up and over her head. After tugging off her shoes, I helped her down, then slid my hands into the stretchy material at her waist and pushed the long skirt down her shapely legs.

  When I stood again, my gaze slid over the white lace bra and panties I’d watched her pull on this morning, and that heat rolled through me again. It was all I could do to keep from propping her back on that counter, spreading her thighs, and burying my face in the sweetness between her legs.

  I reached for the front hook on her bra to help her take it off, but before I could flip the latch, she moved in to me, pressed her cheek against my chest, and wrapped her arms around my waist. “Can you just hold me for a few seconds?”

  Something in her voice set the hair on my nape to attention. I’d seen Natalie upset. I’d seen her scared. I’d even seen her somewhat depressed, when she’d been on my island and she’d realized I wouldn’t let her leave. But until this moment, I’d never seen her look hopeless.

  I wrapped my arms around her and slid one hand up into her hair to pull her in tight, terrified of what that meant.

  “It’s all going to be okay,” I said as I massaged her scalp and ran my hand along her spine, my throat thick. “I know we haven’t talked about it all yet, but... things are better. I feel better. I’m going to be better. I promise.”

  “One afternoon with the blonde bombshell did that?” she said against me. “You should have gone to see her sooner.”

  My chest contracted, and I cupped the back of her head and tugged her away so she could see my eyes. “No, angioletto. A feisty brunette who dripped hot wax all over my chest did that. Today just reinforced everything that feisty brunette burned into my brain last night.”

  “I didn’t burn you.” Her gaze drifted to my throat. “That was a low-temperature safe candle.”

  “It was the jolt I needed. You always know what I need.”

  “No, I don’t.” Her eyes drifted closed. “I don’t know anything.”

  I hated the despondent sound of her voice. I hated that she wouldn’t look at me. And I especially hated that she didn’t believe me about last night making a difference, because it had.

  It had made all the difference.

  I pressed my lips against her forehead and drew in a deep whiff of her grapefruit-and-honey scent that had the power to calm me and make me weak, intent on fixing that. Fixing all of it.

  “Climb in that bath and relax while I make dinner, angioletto. Once we’ve both eaten, things won’t seem so overwhelming.”

  She released me with a halfhearted smile and an “Okay.”

  But as I left the bathroom, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was pulling away from me. Something I deserved after all the shit I’d put her through.

  I wouldn’t let that happen. I knew exactly how to prevent it. And how to prove to her I was still the man she remembered.

  Natalie barely ate.

  Wrapped in the plush white bathrobe I’d left for her on the bed, she mostly pushed her pasta around on her plate. She didn’t even drink her wine, something that was unlike her. The woman liked a good glass of wine as much as I did.

  Sensing she wasn’t in the mood to talk, I finally took pity on her and sent her to bed, telling her I’d clean up. She’d argued for all of two seconds before giving in and disappearing up the stairs. Another thing that was completely out of character for my spunky brunette.

  I took my time cleaning up the kitchen. Not wanting to wake her, I stayed downstairs when I was done, poured myself a glass of whisky, and moved into the living room where I flipped on the news.

  It had been weeks since I’d paid attention to what was going on in the world. I listened for anything related to Italy and my House, but the only thing of remote interest was a segment about the president of Italy attending a fundraiser thrown by a politician I knew was in deep with our House. Odds were good my father had been there, but I flipped off the TV before it panned to video of the party, not wanting to see his face.

  For a minute, I sat in the dark with the glass against my thigh and just let the silence surround me. I’d never particularly liked the quiet. It was when the past crept in, reminding me of all the things I could never escape. But tonight, I didn’t run from those memories. I let each one wash over me, and I separated the events from the emotions they generated, just as Abigail had taught me to do.

  Without those emotions, without the guilt and the shame and even the fear, I could see better. I could remember more clearly. And I could recognize the past for what it was—done and behind me.

  I couldn’t change it. But I couldn’t deny it either. Every single thing I’d done and seen and been had shaped me into the man I was now. Into the man I’d been denying these last few weeks. Into the man Natalie didn’t see as a monster, but as a hero.

  I almost laughed at that thought. I’d never consider myself a hero, but I did believe now that she was right in a way. I wasn’t my father. I wasn’t like the men in my House. I’d never be holy in any sense of the word, but that didn’t mean I was evil. I was just human. I was me. I made mistakes.

  For years, I’d wished I could change the past, but now... Now I knew I wouldn’t, even if I could. Because every one of those mistakes I’d made along the way had led me to Natalie.

  I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do about my House. I wasn’t convinced I was destined for something important as Marco wanted me to believe. The only thing I knew for certain was that being with Natalie, marrying her—loving her—was the one thing in this life I was absolutely meant to do. And I wasn’t about to fuck it up this time. I was going to make it right.

  She was sound asleep when I stepped in the room, lying on her side, facing the small sitting area, her cheek on the pillow, hands tucked up by her angelic face. I was quiet as I moved around, not wanting to wake her. The room was a little cold, so I lit a fire in the old stone fireplace and tugged the drapes closed to keep out the chill. And then, still not tired, I tugged off my shirt and sat in the high-back chair across from her and just watched her sleep.

  I watched the way her chest rose and fell under the ribbed tank she was wearing and the way her soft lips parted as she breathed. I even watched the way her eyelids fluttered. And when the corners of her lips tipped up, I hoped like hell she was dreaming of me.

  I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, but the room was considerably warmer when she shifted beneath the comforter, and so was I. Hot, everywhere. Burning with an unquenchable desire to prove to her things were better. I was better. That I hadn’t forgotten how to remind her she was mine.

  “L-Luc?” She pushed up on one hand and blinked rapidly, her cute little brow furrowed as she glanced over the bed, then twisted, squinting in the red glow of the firelight to look for me.

  A relieved look filled her eyes when she spotted me in the chair. She sat up and pushed the curls back from her sleepy face. “There you are.” She yawned. “What are you doing over there? Come to bed.”

  Another wave of heat rolled through my groin, but I didn’t move. Just lifted the whisky in my hand and sipped as I continued to watch her. And I saw the moment she recognized the look in my eye. I saw by the way her whole body came full awake and a flush darkened her cheeks.

  She threw the covers back and slid to her feet, wearing nothing but that fitted ribbed tank that showed off her curves, the swell of her breasts, and those low-rise lace panties I’d wanted
to strip from her body earlier with my teeth. Before she could even take a step, though, I said, “Uh-uh, angioletto. I want you on your knees.”

  My beautiful little bride blushed even deeper, but the smile that curled her lips was all the encouragement I needed to tell me this was exactly what she wanted. What we needed.

  Her eyes—those gorgeous blue gems that hadn’t wanted to look at me earlier—stayed locked on mine as she crawled across the carpet toward me. When she reached me, she pushed up on her knees and laid her palms on my thighs.

  I pushed the glass of whisky into her hand. “Drink this.”

  She took a sip and tried to hand the glass back to me, but I wouldn’t let her.

  “No, drink all of it.” I helped her lift it back to her lips. “I want you feeling good when I touch you, angioletto. Because I plan to touch you everywhere tonight, and I might not be able to control myself when I do.”

  A very satisfied sigh slipped from her lips. Still watching me, she tipped her head back and swallowed the two or so shots in the glass. Then she winced and pressed the back of her hand against her mouth. “That burns.”

  It didn’t even come close to the burn inside me.

  I took the glass from her and set it behind my chair. “Do you know what I’ve been thinking about while I’ve been sitting here, watching you sleep?”

  She shook her head and slid her hands back over the denim at my thighs, her eyes glowing with heat and need in the low light. “What?”

  I leaned forward and fingered her silky curls. “I’ve been thinking about you and how sexy you are.” I tugged her toward me. “How hard you make me.” I lowered my lips to hers, sliding my tongue into her mouth for a quick, sinful taste. “And just how tight and slick and perfect you are between your shapely legs.”

  I pressed a soft, gentle kiss against her lips. “I want to see it. I want to see that tempting pussy that belongs to me. Show me, angioletto.”