Completing Beauty: Books 1-3

by Stella Andrews

  As I savor the luxury, an idea hits me and I feel a stirring of excitement. Tobias said that I had to stay with him, but he didn’t say anything about when he is gone. I could make this my room and now the idea has taken hold, I look around with satisfaction. Yes, I will make this room mine and if he won’t give me my own space, I’ll take it for myself.

  Jumping to my feet, I feel a new determination. Yes, I will make this work. I won’t play the victim like I’ve done all my life. I will make the best of a bad situation and Martha’s right, I am the lady of the house now, I should have some authority here.

  Feeling a lot better, I leave the gorgeous room, vowing to return later with my things and set up residence in a place I never dreamed of owning. Like Tobias, I like to own pretty things and this room is the start of that.

  Humming to myself, I head off and continue exploring the immense space.

  The house appears to be made up of four parts. North, South, East and West. Each has its own staircase and Tobias appears to occupy the East wing. This is the biggest part of the house, and the South and North wings appear to be smaller. The South is made up of various rooms that look as if he runs his business from here. A couple of the doors are locked, but the other rooms reveal its purpose. The feel to this wing is different to the rest of the house. It’s pure business, and the wood paneling and antique desks creak with power. There are huge fireplaces in every room and amazing art that hangs with pride over them. The carpeting is deep and luxurious upstairs and in the more formal rooms and where it is not, are beautiful Italian marble floors that the underfloor heating makes pleasant on bare feet.

  The North wing is made of up several other rooms that look to be occupied by the staff. There is a communal kitchen and living room, and many of the doors are locked. However, the ones that aren’t, show a comfortable bedroom equipped with a bathroom and closet that must be home to the many people who work here.

  Then I reach the West wing and find the door to the entrance locked. It appears to be out of bounds and I wonder about it.

  Feeling curious, I head to the kitchen in search of the only other woman here and find her baking in the dream kitchen that I am itching to explore myself.

  She looks up as I enter the room and nods. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Moretti, I have taken the trouble to provide lunch in the garden room if you are hungry.”

  She looks at me curiously and I smile my thanks and jump on the bar stool to watch her work. “Thanks, Mrs. Billings, that’s very kind of you. Do you mind if I eat it in here? I’ll run and help myself, but it would be good to have company.”

  She looks a little surprised and says quickly, “I will bring it to you.”

  “No, it’s fine, I can fetch it.”

  “No madam, Mr. Moretti would not appreciate it. Please stay here and let me do my job.”

  She is rather curt and as I watch her head off with a hint of disapproval following her, my heart sinks. Great, now I’ve upset her. The tears burn as I think about the many times I sat watching Martha in the kitchen and wish she was here now instead of the rather cold, Mrs. Billings. She was such fun to be around and it makes me miss her even more.

  In fact, despite being the most beautiful place I have ever seen, it is also the emptiest. The beauty is breath taking, but it has no heart. Much like its owner, I suppose and I giggle to myself. Yes, Tobias Moretti has modeled his house as he has modeled himself. Impressive, immaculate and so beautiful it hurts to look at it. However, inside is empty with a coldness that belies the exterior. Then again, there were little slivers of warmth that showed me the humanity inside the man, and it’s those I cling onto as I wait for Mrs. Billings. Maybe it’s in there somewhere and I have yet to discover the secret to breathing life into a black soul.

  Mrs. Billings soon returns with a lunch fit for a king. A silver tray groans under the weight of a beautifully prepared salad, with homemade rolls and a plate of cured meat. Fresh fruit and a sparkling wine accompany it and as she sets it before me, I can’t wait to devour the contents.

  She nods her appreciation as I tuck in and groan. “Mrs. Billings, you are a wonder. This food is worthy of five Michelin stars. You are wasted here.”

  She smiles, which makes me almost stop eating because it completely transforms her features. As her face changes, the cool exterior lifts and I see a person that I much prefer emerging from the wall of ice she hides behind.

  “You are very kind, Mrs. Moretti.”

  The sparkle in her eyes tells me she isn’t often complimented on her work, and I feel sad for her.

  As I eat, I watch and find it interesting to see her creating amazing food out of the ingredients she uses. Deciding to find out a little more about her, I say with interest, “Have you worked here long?”

  “Five years.”

  “You deserve a medal.”

  She says nothing, but I see her lips twitch as she carries on kneading the bread she is making.

  “Do you have a family, or a husband?”

  “She shakes her head and I see a wistful look enter her eyes. “My husband died five years ago.”

  She looks down and I can tell the subject is closed. “I’m so sorry, that must have been hard.”

  She nods, keeping her eyes lowered. “Is that when you came here?”

  She turns and heads toward a cupboard to remove a baking sheet and says in a low voice, “Yes.”

  I feel a little bad for prying because it’s obviously a subject she is uncomfortable with, but I want her to open up a little.

  “It must get lonely, do you have any family to visit, or friends, clubs?”

  She shakes her head and carries on with her work. “No.”

  Parking the conversation for another day, I let her off the hook and say with interest, “This is a lovely home. You do a good job.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Please, call me Ana, Mrs. Moretti is weird because I’m not sure who she is and my real name Anastasia is quite a mouthful, so my family and friends call me Ana.”

  She looks at me with a hint of disapproval. “I’m sorry, I have to address you by your title, it would be disrespectful of me not to.”

  Feeling frustrated, I vow to work on her a little and once again change the subject. “I’ve had such a great time exploring. There was one section of the house I couldn’t get into, what’s in there?”

  “You must mean the West wing.”

  “Yes. the door was locked.”

  “It always is because that’s where Miss. Moretti has her suite of rooms. The only ones with a key are the maids who clean it every day. They work solely for her and she guards her privacy well.”

  Thinking about the beautiful woman I met at the wedding, I feel a surge of interest toward my new sister-in-law.

  “Tell me about her. I was introduced to her at the wedding, but we never actually spoke. What’s she like?”

  Once again, I see the woman’s guarded expression close her down and she says respectfully, “Miss. Moretti is a very private person. She lives here and works with Mr. Moretti. They run their businesses together and she is never from his side.”

  “Oh.”

  Thinking about their situation, it strikes me as a little odd. “Doesn’t she have a family of her own, or a boyfriend perhaps?”

  Mrs. Billings looks down and I see the pain cloud her eyes, which instantly intrigues me.

  “No, she has Mr. Moretti and until you came, he only had her.”

  Chewing on an apple, I think about their situation. Two siblings working and sharing a home is a little intense, and I wonder why. I can tell the subject is closed because Mrs. Billings moves away and starts to clear her work station and I know I won’t get any more information from her.

  Parking it for another day, I say brightly, “Would you let me do some baking?”

  She looks up in surprise and astonishment, and I giggle. “Please, I love baking, cakes mainly and I’m itching to get my hands on this cooks dream of a kitchen. You c
an show me where everything is and I promise to clear up after.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Mrs. Moretti, I will gladly help out.”

  She smiles and suddenly the wall of ice begins to thaw a little. Yes, slowly but surely, I will chip away and discover the secrets this house protects. After all, I certainly have the time.

  Chapter 16

  Tobias

  New York isn’t helping. I came here to forget the woman I married in a misguided attempt to gain more control in my life and in doing so found the opposite. I am in danger of losing every ounce of control I possess around her and so came here to take my mind off my domestic situation and get back to business.

  However, Sophia is withdrawn and angry and it’s irritating me and the Clarkson deal is stalling, which is stirring up a storm that I would rather do without.

  As soon as we conclude our business with Jeffrey Clarkson, we head back to my Manhattan apartment and Sophia immediately retires to her room. That’s normal and any worries I have for my sister are once again buried in that box inside my head where I file away things I can’t face.

  My men take up their positions on the floor below, acting as a human shield to anyone who is foolish enough to think they can reach me and my sister and the only person I have left is Matteo who stands silently waiting for instruction.

  As I stare out of the panoramic window at the city that never sleeps, I reach for the bottle of whiskey and stare moodily out on a place I own.

  Below are the people I control through fear and intimidation. All across the city they do my work and I reap the rewards of it. Drugs, prostitution and gambling, I have shares in it in every city in America and increasingly it’s infecting my soul with a poison that’s killing me. Then there are the legitimate businesses I own that Sergio oversees for me, and I now have so many, I have lost count of them.

  Sighing, I turn to Matteo and snap, “Call Ingrid and tell her to come.”

  He nods and leaves, and I immediately regret my words. Why did I ask for her? The woman I turn to when I head to the city. There are many of them across the country, and they serve my needs when required. I meet many women through my business who make no secret of the fact they want to be the next Mrs. Moretti. I am not interested and use these women to accompany me to functions and restaurants to keep the wannabees away. They make my life less complicated and ask for nothing but the money I give them, along with the lifestyle they crave, and they ask no questions and just wait for my call. Then I fuck them and they leave, no questions asked and no emotional attachment. Yes, I came here to set my life back on track. Anastasia is just one of them. A woman I pay to perform the role of my choosing, and I would be a fool to let her inside my black heart. She has a place and it’s time I cemented her in it.

  Knocking back the liquid, it burns as it blazes a trail to my fucked-up soul, and I rip off my tie and shrug out of my jacket. Tomorrow I will finalize the Clarkson deal and will not take no for an answer. Tonight, I will fuck Anastasia out of my head and business will carry on as before.

  However, as I wait, my thoughts return once more to home and I wonder what she thought when she woke up to find me gone. I expect she was angry, but then again, maybe she was happy to be let off the hook. Maybe she couldn’t wait for me to leave. That thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth and I reach for another whiskey.

  As I stare out across the city, I picture the woman I married and am instantly hard. There is something so appealing about Anastasia Johnson, and I can’t put my finger on it.

  Groaning, I sink down on the seat overlooking the city and put my head in my hands. Why can’t I shake her? I must shake her because I can’t develop feelings for anyone.

  Twenty minutes later the elevator pings and I straighten up. Yes, Ingrid will make those thoughts go away and as she walks into the room, I see the business in her eyes and my heart settles a little.

  “Tobias.”

  She smiles and I see the lust on her face as the door clicks softly shut behind her.

  I say nothing and just stare at her with my usual hunger and she reaches behind her and pulls the zipper down on her dress. As she steps out, it reveals she has nothing on underneath and as I see the swell of the breasts that I paid for, my cock hardens. Licking her lips, she tosses her long, dark hair across her shoulder and walks suggestively toward me and then sinks to her knees.

  Settling between my legs, she rubs my aching cock against my trousers and purrs, “Let me deal with that for you, sir.”

  I nod and she unzips my pants and frees the raging beast inside and licks her lips, her eyes flashing with greed. As she lowers her mouth and takes it all in, I relish the sound of her sucking and slurping as she sucks me deep and hard. Her tongue swirls against my shaft and I thrust in deeper. I fist her hair and relish the bite as she feels the pain on her scalp. I thrust hard and deep and she gags as I punish her for not being the one I want and I hear a whimper as I go too far and hold her head in place so she has no air.

  Then the disgust hits me and I push her away, saying sharply, “Go.”

  She gasps for air and falls back on her ass and says fearfully, “Did I do something wrong?”

  Feeling like a complete bastard, I zip up my pants and reach for my wallet, tossing a bunch of notes in her direction and snarl. “Take this and leave. I won’t be needing you again.”

  She looks up at me with a mixture of hurt and anger and whimpers, “Please, tell me if I did something wrong.”

  Her pathetic groveling angers me more and I snarl. “I don’t want you anymore, get out.”

  My eyes must warn her against any further explanation because she sobs and gathers her discarded clothing and leaves the room as quickly as she came.

  Feeling frustrated, I hurl my glass against the wall and relish the sound of the glass shattering as I face up to my current situation.

  I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bear another woman near me because I only want one. Her. The frustration threatens to tear me apart, and I storm to my bathroom and rip the clothes from my body in haste. Then I stand under the powerful jets of water and take my cock in my hand and groan as I deal with it myself, and every moment is imagining her mouth doing the job for me. I picture myself tasting her most intimate place and I imagine burying myself balls deep inside a little piece of heaven. Yes, Anastasia Johnson is so far inside my head, there is no way of getting her out but giving my cock what it wants. Until I sample the woman herself, I am ruined for all others.

  As I come, I roar with release and understanding. I can’t hide from the fact I am screwed and no amount of distance will get that woman out of my head and I was a fool to think otherwise.

  Placing my hands on the tiles of the shower, I try to get a grip. I must get a grip because I can’t allow my infatuation with my new wife to destroy everything I’ve worked so hard for during the past five years.

  There is only way to set things back on track and that’s to fuck my wife senseless and then carry on with my day.

  Chapter 17

  Anastasia

  I may not have my freedom outside of this house, but I am determined to find some inside. The afternoon is spent baking cakes and while they cool, I take a walk in the grounds, conscious of the discreet presence of Angelo shadowing my every move.

  After a while, I turn and beckon him over and as he approaches nervously; I fix a determined look on my face. We are standing by a huge lake that is set some distance from the house. It is breath taking in its beauty, and I could stay here all day if I had to. I see in the distance a world I am no longer part of. In fact, it’s as if I’m on another planet entirely because there is no view of another building, or person, as far as the eye can see.

  Angelo hovers nervously nearby, and I say as gently as I can. “You know, you really don’t need to follow me. I’m not going anywhere and I’m sure you have better things to do with your time.”

  “Excuse me, ma’am but I’m just doing my job.”

  I look at him wit
h interest because Angelo is something else. He must be around late teens and has a wild look about him that the youth wear so well. Hell, he’s not much younger than me and I wonder why he has chosen such a career.

  I decide to see what makes Angelo tick and smile warmly. “Tell me, what made you apply for a job here?”

  He looks at me in surprise. “I didn’t.”

  “Then how come you work here.”

  He looks a little awkward and says softly, “It was always going to be my calling. My father worked for Mr. Moretti, man and boy, and it was always expected that I would too.”

  I stare at him in confusion. “Your father, how could he work for Mr. Moretti, the math doesn’t add up.”

  Angelo looks awkward. “Mr. Moretti, senior.”

  “Oh.”

  I feel a little foolish because I never once considered Tobias had an actual family outside of his sister, and I wonder why he never mentions them.

  “Where do they live?”

  Now Angelo looks extremely uncomfortable and shakes his head. “I’m sorry ma’am, I’m not allowed to discuss personal family business.”

  I can feel the frustration tearing through my reasoning and snap, “I am family.”

  He nods, but even I know that sounded ridiculous. Of course, I’m not family. I’m a stranger brought in to do a job and he is reminding me of that. I’m not here through any other means than a business deal, and suddenly I feel weary.

  Turning away, I say in a small voice, “That’s fine, you may go.”

  He retreats to a respectful distance, but I know he’s still watching me and I feel the tears burn. Is this my life? Am I to be watched silently like a caged tiger in the zoo? I feel the chains of my new life tearing at my spirit. They are hurting my soul and I can’t breathe. I thought I was marrying to get my freedom. How wrong could I be? All I’ve achieved is another kind of loneliness and have retreated into a world where normal life ceases to exist.