by S. M. Soto
Now I knew what Creed felt whenever another man tried to take me from him. The way I felt about him was possessive. If anyone, any other woman, ever tried to take him from me, from us? I’d hurt them. Without question or second thought. That was all I was sure of.
I putter around the lower level of the estate for the remainder of the day. I’ve adhered to Creed and my brother’s demands of staying away from the stairs without the help of Magdalene, Alexis or anyone else.
I sat upstairs in the library with Alexis for a while as I told her everything that happened in the nursery with this…Elisea person. I tried not to let the anger get to me, but how could I not?
Just the thought of the two of them together made me sick to my stomach. It was glaringly obvious Alexis was enjoying watching as my jealousy played out. She sat back in the chaise in the library, with her brows raised, watching me tell my story with her lips sealed. Being my best friend for years, she knows me better than anyone. She knows my need to get it all out. I need to vent out my frustrations and using my best friend while she’s still here is the best way to do it.
“You can’t really be angry at him for having a past?” she poises it as more of a question than anything else and I toss my head back on the opposite chaise, a roll of buttered bread in my hand as I talk mid-chew. I do this quite often while pregnant. Sometimes when you’re eating for two, all manners just fly straight out of the window.
“I’m not angry with him…per se. I guess I’m…Christ, I guess I’m jealous.” My cheeks pink just saying it out loud. I don’t want to be one of those partners. One that is jealous over every little thing. I refuse to become that. But I can’t help the way that green envy, that damned jealousy is spreading through my veins. It’s absolutely insane, but I’m starting to realize this is what Creed does to me. “I mean, I’ve only had one sexual experience besides being with him and it wasn’t all that great. You know that for a fact.”
Alexis tries to stifle her laughter because she does know exactly what I’m talking about. My first boyfriend in high school was the guy I lost my virginity to senior year. It was a stumbling, fumbling mess of sloppy kisses. And the worst part of all was when he ripped through my virginity and whispered in my ear, “You’re not a virgin anymore, baby.”
Uh, yeah. I’ve gathered that genius. You know, what with the pain and all.
Couldn’t tell at the time if that was his sweet talk, or his dirty talk. All I do now is cringe when I think about it.
“Soph.” Lex breathes through her laughter that she desperately tries to muffle with another mouthful of food. “Look, I’m going to be blunt. That man is fine. He’s dark and brooding, the kind of guy women throw themselves at. There’s no way he doesn’t have a past. And that’s okay,” she rushes to add at the sour expression on my face. “You’re carrying his baby. That man, that man is incredibly in love with you. It’s fucking insanely scary and incredibly beautiful to look at. I can assure you this…this Elisea girl means nothing to him. You’re the real deal Soph. Don’t get caught up on his past just because she decided to stir up trouble. That’s exactly what she wants, to cause a rift between the two of you. You know that just as well as I do.”
I look down at my empty plate and heave a sigh. I know she’s right. It doesn’t make the pill any easier to swallow. Especially with those noises traveling down the hall to where we are. I can only assume they’re coming from Matteo’s men and the…escorts. It makes a shudder run down my spine. I wish Creed was here. So we can talk about this face to face. He’d know just what to say to put me at ease.
I finger the phone in my pocket they gave me before they left. I don’t feel unsafe here, but Creed made me promise to call if I felt unsafe or if I felt anything strange happening with the pregnancy. And now, I toy with the possibility of calling him, just to hear his voice. Just to feel close to him. Rubbing my free hand along my belly, I blow out a tired sigh, knowing she’s right. I can’t be angry with Creed. I can’t even be upset with him for having a past. The scary part is, I just love him too much. It’s making me crazy.
Or it could very well be the pregnancy hormones.
“Stew on that for a bit, while I take these plates back and bring some dessert for us. Magdalene said there’s flan.” She waggles her brows and my lips tug into a small smile.
As she disappears out of the library, I pull the phone out of my pocket and dial the number. It only rings twice before the deep crisp voice erupts over the line. It causes my stomach to stir and my core to clench. I’ve never actually talked to Creed on the phone. I’ve heard his voice only once before over Garrett’s cell, but it wasn’t directed at me and it was panicked. All of it shot at my brother so many months ago when we lost Ricky.
There’s that same panic in his voice now as he says my name, like he’s expecting the worst. I put him out of his misery, finally snapping out of the daze his voice pulled me under.
“Sophia.” His tone is a growl now, demanding I answer him.
“I’m here.” I clear my throat. “I’m fine, I promise. I just…I wanted to hear your voice. Are you busy? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called. I don’t know why I did.” I rub at my forehead with my hand, trying to soothe away the looming headache.
“You’re okay?”
There’s no mistaking the relief in his voice. It makes me smile.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I guess I just…I ran into someone today and it left me feeling unsettled.”
He’s silent on the other end of the line for the longest time and eventually when he does speak, his voice is darker, deeper. “Who was there?”
He’s probably thinking the worst, that someone came in to visit that wasn’t supposed to and maybe he is right. But not in the way he thinks.
I press my lips together, contemplating before I answer. “I was in the nursery today…a woman was there. Snooping. Well, I don’t exactly know what she wanted. But her name was Elisea.”
The line is silent. I expect him to react, a sharp intake of breath. Anything that will give away what he’s thinking. But he gives nothing away and when he speaks again, I can practically hear the anger in his voice.
“Why was she there?” his voice is tinged with anger. “Did she hurt you? Lay a hand on you? I’ll kill her.”
My brows pull down. “What? Wait, no. She just…she just insinuated you two had a past and talked down to me, but…why would she want to hurt me?”
“I don’t know. She’s psychotic.”
“She tried to make it seem like she was your mistress and I’d have to get used to having her around.”
I hear movement on the other line then Creed’s deep growl. “So help me, if she’s still there I’m going to—”
“She’s not here anymore,” I say, cutting him off. “But she was. And…I need to know she won’t be here anymore, Creed. I won’t have her here.”
“You think I wanted her there?” There’s a cold tinge to his voice, like he’s waiting for me to say the wrong thing.
I blow out a sigh. This conversation is not going the way I expected. “No. I don’t believe that. I guess after hearing about the past you two shared, it bothered me more than it should have. I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“You have nothing to worry about Sophia. She’s from my past. And I’ll be having words with Matteo. She shouldn’t fucking be there. None of them should be there while you are.”
I bark out a sharp laugh. “Oh, believe me, Matteo got an earful from me already.”
“You’re okay though?”
I smile. “Yes, I’m fine. And if it makes it any better, Matteo said he didn’t realize she was going to be there and he made her leave. Did you two…was she your…” I trail off again, running a frustrated hand through my hair, unsure of what to say.
“No. It’s only ever been you. Want the truth? I lost my virginity to her when I was fourteen. She’s never been anything more. No one has. Until you.”
My chest tightens and my heart warms at the same
time. I’m still not happy, hearing about his past with another woman, but this…it’s still good to hear. Inhaling a deep calming breath, I nod, even though he can’t see me.
“When will you guys be home?”
He makes a contemplative noise. “Soon. I promise you, Angel.”
“I miss you. We both do.”
I hear his harsh intake of breath. “Me too.”
A contented smile slowly spreads across my face. “Talk to you later?”
“I’ll call you. You let me know if anything makes you uncomfortable there, understand me?”
I chuckle. “Yes. I’ll let you know. I promise.”
Just as I’m hanging up with Creed, Alexis comes back into the room with two plates of flan. Her mom used to make it all the time when we were kids. She must’ve asked Magdalene to make some. And I’m glad she did. A plate filled with basically sugar, eggs, and condensed milk, what’s not to love?
We both dig in, and it doesn’t take us long at all to finish off our plates.
“Want to watch a movie together?”
She nods, pushing up to her feet and stretching her arms above her head.
“Yeah, I’m going to give my mom a call then I’ll meet you in your palatial escape.”
I roll my eyes. Alexis always says the bedroom I share with Creed is fit for a queen. And I guess she might be right. The four-poster bed is huge. A California king, and where most California kings seem huge in bedrooms. This room is so big, the bed doesn’t take up any space at all. I can definitely understand why she teases. Even with all the baby’s stuff now perfectly placed throughout the room, it still surprisingly feels empty.
We part ways and I make a left down the hall, heading toward the south wing of the estate. Just as I’m rounding another curve, I almost crash into a body. Strong arms shoot out settling on my shoulders. When I look up, my face pales. I don’t think I’ve shared more than a few words with Giovanni. He’s a man who has caused Creed so much pain. Part of me wants to reach out and strike him and the other part is curious. Once I’m steady, he lets go, his eyes narrowed into thin slits on me.
Just like Creed and Matteo, the man gives off an eerie, dark vibe, one you know means he’s done bad things more times in his life than he’s done good. Sweat trickles down my spine as I take a step back.
“I’m sorry.” I try to keep my voice strong, even when I feel like my vocal cords are going to waver and crack. It’s not that I don’t trust him…well, actually yes. It’s definitely because I don’t trust him. I don’t trust any of these men. The only ones I can truly count on are Creed, Gar and the rest of our guys.
Without a word, he slips past me, taking his dark presence with him. I blow out a shaky breath and force myself to keep walking toward the room. Things were weird enough around here and I wouldn’t feel better until Creed was back home.
I jolt awake, my eyes spring open when warm arms slide around me from behind. A ragged gasp tears past my lips and my heartbeat settles the second I hear Creed’s husky chuckle. I shift on the bed, trying to turn toward him. It takes longer than it should with the weight of our little guy.
I rub the sleep away from my bleary eyes, staring up at him. “You’re back?”
His lips press against mine and I breathe him in. My belly fluttering at his words.
“I’m back.”
I wrap my arms around him and squeeze, relishing in the warmth of his body. I’ve missed this. I’ve missed him beyond words.
“Why didn’t you tell me you guys were already coming back?”
He buries his face in my neck, inhaling my scent and smelling my hair. It makes me smile. Unable to keep my hands off him, I rub his back, sans shirt and glide my fingers over the mountains of hard, unrelenting muscles. I trail them up to the nape of his neck, through his smooth, inky locks.
Instead of answering, he presses his lips against mine. Silencing my thoughts. His smooth, yet firm lips glide over mine working in tandem with the lust swimming through my veins.
I love this man.
What I feel for him is beyond words. It’s more than a feeling. It’s everything.
I deepen the kiss, sliding my tongue against his, needing to feel him inside of me. Everything is heightened while we have sex lately, and going without his touch these past few days, it hasn’t changed anything. I want him more than ever. My nipples pebble against one of his many shirts that I use as pajamas. My heart warms and my thighs clench together to stave off the looming ache. I feel my panties dampening. It’s a natural occurrence whenever I’m near Creed.
He takes advantage, pulling my shirt up and taking my nipple into his mouth while his hand slides into my panties. I blow out sharp breaths and moans and Creed swallows them all, well into the night.
“TESORO, WHAT’S THE MATTER?”
With my momma’s planting tool, I dig into the dirt, stabbing the soil angrily. I don’t answer, there’s no point. Instead, I keep making a mess of the perfect green grass. My hands are smudged with dirt, as are my shoes and probably the rest of my clothes.
I feel my momma’s hand brush through my hair, the strands that are hanging down in my face, shielding my eyes from hers. When I still don’t stop my digging or look up at her, she plops down in the dirt next to me, picking random blades of grass. I finally twist my gaze up to hers, surprised she’s willing to get dirty. She smiles when I look at her, like she finally got what she wanted.
“Talk to me, tesorito.”
“I hate it here.”
Her face falls, sadness creeping into her eyes that are identical to mine. “Oh, tesoro,” she sighs. “How me and your papa wish we could give you a different life.” She runs her fingers through my hair, cupping my cheek. Her eyes search mine, glimmering with moisture. “I promise you, amore, things will get better, I promise.”
My chin quivers. “Papa says I’m not strong enough. That I’ll never be like him. Why doesn’t he love me?”
My momma looks down at the grass. She presses her lips together, trying to hold in her tears. Swiping under her eyes, she pushes up to her feet, reaching her palm out to me.
“Andiamo, il mio amore. Come help me.”
With a sigh, I take her hand, placing my small one in hers and follow Momma toward the flower beds. She already has a bunch of flowers planted, but as I look down at the crates of flowers and bags of soil, I realize what she wants me to help her with.
She instructs me to dig near an empty space of dirt, it’s where she wants her roses to be. I dig while she opens bags of soil behind me, fumbling with other tools.
“Your papa loves you very much, Tesoro.”
I stab a little harder at the dirt, for the holes she’s having me dig. She’s lying. I know my papa doesn’t love me. All he ever does is yell at me and tell me I’ll never be like him. I’ll never be strong enough. I’m never enough of anything for him.
“No, he doesn’t.”
Momma sighs, she reaches out, her gloved hand covering mine so I can stop stabbing. She forces my gaze to hers. “Yes, he does. Your papa loves you so much,” she chokes out. “It’s just sometimes…your papa has to do things, he has to be a different man in order to protect us. I don’t think he means to do it, Tesoro. He’s keeping us safe the only way he knows how.”
“But why? What is he protecting us from?”
“The world, il mio amore. There are so many evil people in this world that want to hurt us. That might try to hurt you, and your papa…he doesn’t want that to happen.”
“So…Papa does love me?”
She smiles, a tear trailing down her cheek. I don’t understand why it’s there. “Very much, mio dolce. Now, scoot over so I can get these in here,” she says, picking up the already bloomed bushel of red roses. I glance behind her, taking in the white, pink and what looks like black roses that still need to be planted.
We get the first bushel in, using the soil to pat around, before moving onto the next. The next set of roses are a deep red, the tips looking alm
ost like a black suede. It’s as close to a black rose as I’ve ever seen.
“Are those real?”
Momma laughs. “Yes. Papa had a florist bloom them for me. Want to know something else? Once we plant them, each day, we add a little bit of black dye to the soil and they’ll turn even more black. See here, how there’s still some red,” she fingers the petals. “The dye will slowly start to change it.”
I help Momma plant the rest of the roses. It’s not fun, I’d rather be kicking the ball in the grass, but Momma seems to like it. We’re about to move onto the last ones—the pink ones—when I hear Papa’s sharp voice. It sends a chill down my spine.
“Figlio! Che diavolo stai facendo?” He stalks out of the French doors, leading into Momma’s garden with a scowl etched on his face. I hear Momma’s sharp intake of breath. “What are you thinking Valentina? Letting him help you garden!”
Momma scrambles to her feet, stepping in front of me. She tosses off her gloves, placing steadying hands on his chest. “Matteo, please. He was upset, I was trying to take his mind off it.”
“By letting him do a woman’s job?” he growls incredulously.
“Testa di cazzo!” Momma growls, raking her hands through her hair in frustration. “You always do this! You always scare him, and you make him question if you even love him, Matteo. For once, por favor, let him be a child!”
Papa glares down at Momma but doesn’t say anything. He just shoots me a look over her head. “Diavolo, vieni qui. Let your momma work out here while we go inside.”
He turns on his heel, not waiting for me to respond. He knows I’ll listen. Because deep down, I just want to make Papa happy. Just before I follow Papa back inside, I turn around to face my momma. She has tears swimming in her eyes, just like I do.
“You lied, Momma.”
I really did start to believe that maybe my papa did love me. He was just mean when he had to be. But that wasn’t true. And she lied.
Her face crumples and she takes a step toward me. “No, amore, I didn’t. I promise I didn’t lie to you.”
