“You can work off some sexual tension after the tour,” I tell him, keeping my mind from wandering. I’m aching for him, and I swear thinking of him in that closet has me becoming wetter at just a memory. I would do anything to have him take me, but with everyone watching, I cannot risk it. “There are treadmills, cross trainers, punching bags. You name it, we have it, and if we don’t, it can be here within the hour.”
“Do you come down here a lot?” he asks as I walk between the equipment, stepping toward the punching bags. “You’re toned, but how often do you really work out?”
“I get my quota of working out. I can pack a mean punch,” I muse, running a hand across the hanging punching bag. “I’m not a precious, fragile little girl, Zane. You know I like to play rough,” I joke, smirking hard at him.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he comments, playing dumb deliberately, but the sarcasm overtakes his tone and I love reveling in this playfulness between us.
I decide to say nothing, just turn on the spot and bite at the empty air in front of him. I watch him cringe and see he remembers full well when I took charge. I laugh as he recoils and I decide to lead on while he remembers when I bite down on his penis. I head over to the far doors. I don’t stop as I throw them open and begin another small descent. I feel Zane hesitate from behind, but I continue to lead the way.
“What’s down here?” Zane asks, and I take full note of the apprehension in his voice. “I feel like we’re going into the deeper depths of hell.”
“The Abbiati torture chamber,” I comment, throwing the sentence at him with a blasé essence. “Now that you’re becoming part of the Dio Lavoro, you might as well be privy to the darkest of our secrets.”
I can feel his relief midway down the stairs, when I push open the doors and the brightness of an indoor pool illuminates the darkened stairwell. The morning sun filters into the room, reflecting from the calm water. I start to make my way around the pool’s edge and turn to walk backwards.
“Indoor pool for when the weather’s god-awful,” I comment, walking with a smirk on my face.
“You had me going there,” Zane laughs, his voice echoing from the water’s surface and the space of the room’s walls.
“You’re so gullible,” I tease and head for the large patio doors. “My mother always loved to swim, so my father made sure she never had to go without.”
“You don’t talk much about her,” Zane muses, stepping in to join my stride as I head out to the backyard.
I shrug. “What’s to talk about?” I ask, looking up at him. “She’s dead.”
“So is mine, but I talk about her every chance I get.” Zane’s tone is full of every remnant of grief that offers the telltale signs that he’s still in mourning.
“I wish I had been there for you,” I utter, my voice low as I think of how difficult it must have been for Zane. I know it’s a quick, selfish subject change, but I don’t like to discuss my mother’s death. Zane’s, however, I never have truly come to terms with and it still hurts to think I’ll never see her again. If it hurts me, I can only imagine what Zane must feel. His mother was his only family, so I know he had to deal with it all alone. “I would have been there. Had you called, I would have run to you.”
“How could I call you, Amelia?” he asks me, a dry sense of mirth lingers in his voice. “I’m the big bad wolf in this life, remember? I ran into your life and tore it apart. I couldn’t simply call you.” I watch his eyes water, and I have to fight myself to not wrap my arms around him. “Everything that I receive I deserve.”
“You didn’t deserve to handle her death alone,” I tell him, stopping mid-stride. I turn to him, grab his hands, and force him to look at me. “I would have forgotten everything to be there. There’s not even a doubt in my mind, Zane.”
I don’t want to tell him that maybe had he done just that, our lives might not have collided in such a deathly passion. Had he just given me a cry for help, our love story may have never been cracked and tarnished with such fearful intentions. As fate has it, I’m the twisted one and he’s soon to follow me. The what ifs are monumental in our lives now – what if he had never left? What if he had always trusted to just love me? What if I was strong enough to leave my family? What if we had never met? The possibilities are endless, but I know had he just shown his vulnerability and need for me, our lives would have played out so differently than they are now.
“There was every doubt in mine,” he says solemnly and looks back out to the acres that stretch beyond us. “You’ll laugh, but I finally feel like I’m doing something right with my life.”
“I always thought you were a stupid man,” I mutter and know this is him moving on from the painful subject matter. I look at him, finding his eyes already on me, and take the moment to give him a sincere look that I am here for him. “Let’s go down to the tennis courts.”
“I won’t lie,” he begins, filling the silence that settles between us. “I always thought that I would be killing my life left, right, and center the moment I was allowed into the family. Stereotypically thought it’d be no rest for the wicked, but you guys live a surprisingly calm life.”
I snort on that opinion. “Right now it is. Just because there is murder doesn’t mean it’s something we do on a daily basis. Most of the time, it’s all business and mergers and handling of goods. Stuff my father uses to gain a larger business name. Murder just seems to go hand in hand with it all. He makes them bloodier to set examples.” I wring my hands together nervously. “Obviously, not my quests, but the ones my father has an involvement with are all men, sometimes women as well, who have snitched, snubbed, or royally fucked up.” I stop again only to turn to him. My nerves are killing me as I talk about the family business. How everything seems to hang on the fact that if you’re loyal, your payout is beautiful, and if you fucked up, your death will be beautifully executed. “Being an Abbiati is a health hazard. You know that, right?”
“I think I can assume I knew that, yeah,” he scoffs, laughing to hide his own nerves. “Especially after what I witnessed with Carmello.”
“That’s nothing,” I respond, dampening his confidence on that hit. “There have been worse situations we have gotten out of and lived to tell the tale.” His face becomes ashen as I mention that and I just give a little laugh of exasperation. “You get used to understanding the pace of this life, Zane. You’re committed to it now. There is no way out.”
“I don’t need one.”
I can see he’s trying to be brave, and I find it stupidly admirable. He’s trying to remain so beautifully stoic for me, keep a semblance of strength, win with strategic moves, and bargain against my need to resist. However, first and foremost, he needs to remind himself of what cesspit he’s leapt into.
“You’re an anomaly to me, Zane Maverick,” I muse wickedly. “You called me that once, but it’s you who’s the abnormal one. You love me but cannot tolerate my family and what it stands for. You love your job, but quit to work for my father. You say it’s all for love, but no clever man would give up their entire life for this.”
“I’m not a clever man,” he tells me. “I’m not giving up my life for this, Amelia. I’m giving it up for you. Hell, I’m starting anew for you, with you. I know the danger I’m putting myself into for this, but I cannot risk being stupid enough to lose you a third time. I won’t even think about it. This is the right thing for us to do now.”
My breathing becomes staccato, each inhalation freezes in my chest, wrapping icy fingers around my heart and cramping tightly. Each of Zane’s words cause a vice-like effect around my heart, and it’s a delightful feeling. One I cannot indulge. I want to agree, to tell him that our fate is now sealed in the stars, but it’s simply not that easy, so I divert our conversation. Ignoring the carnal yearn in me and the skipping of my own heart.
“My father occupied a lot of land when he wanted to evolve his empire,” I state as we walk further from the house and toward the vast land before us. “This w
as the result. Tennis courts, shooting range, swimming pools; you name it and my father wanted it all here with Manhattan not far.”
“You’re really going to shut me down like that?” he asks, catching up with me. “Right in the middle of a sentimental moment.”
“Zane, I don’t know what you want me to say or do. It’s been three days, and I watch you across the breakfast table wondering why the fuck you look so out of place. Then it hits me; it’s because you don’t belong to people who are as ruined as us. You are destined for better things, and I try with all my might to be okay with it, but sometimes I just can’t keep strong and believe this will ever end right.”
“We’re right,” he speculates, arguing his side. “Isn’t that enough?”
“Not right now, it isn’t, no,” I argue back. “You’ve entered a whole new game, Zane; one where you have to prove yourself at every fucking turn. The sad truth is that this is the testament to whether I’m worth the fight for you. If you survive and still profess to love me then maybe I can dream about fairy tale endings, but right now, I cannot give myself to false hope. Not like I have before.”
When he doesn’t respond, I just head further down toward the large open spaces beyond us. There’s such a vast amount of area to cover, and I feel uncomfortable with how Zane’s conversation with me seems to fluctuate between understanding and confusion. Just as I’m preparing to walk out and head toward Enzo, who is using his bo-staff to work out, Zane grabs my wrist, his large hand swallowing my tiny wrist whole.
He slams me against the chain fencing to the tennis courts, invariably moving me just out of plain sight. Stepping forward, he covers my body with his and just stares at me as his fingers cling to the fence on either side of my head. There’s this uninhibited sense of lust, the desire we’re both swallowed by sparking to life and while I might refute mine, Zane is very much allowing his to take over.
“Don’t deny it,” he whispers, his heated breaths coursing over me, making me weaker than I already am. “Don’t stop what you really want, Amelia. You want my hands all over you, you want me under your skin, and you want me to be here, loving you, pushing my way into your life like you love me pushing my way between your legs. You’d be a liar to start denying it now.” How am I not ever supposed to love a man who always sings what my heart wants? I want the love, the lust, the downright dirtiness. I want everything he offers and will wait while he fights to grab the stars from above as well. He stole simplicity and made it the most complicated notion ever and Zane Maverick keeps intensifying the complexity of it all with every fucking breath. “Not all love stories have to be straightforward, sweetheart.”
He’s right, so I do nothing to push him away.
He leans in, his lips touching the skin of my neck gently as one hand begins to fall down the side of my body. He slowly, and with gentle ease, slips his hands into my sweats, past my panties and begins to work toward my heated core. As he leans back, I look at him, biting down on my lip with anticipation and watch him as he does nothing but gazes at me. His eyes are firmly on me, preparing to watch every single flurry of emotion he’s about to unleash on me.
“Speak now or forever hold your peace, sweetheart,” he muses and with my silence, his fingers race across my clitoris.
His touch scorches me every time, but I love the blistering pleasure it leaves across my skin. Like a million needles testing my nerves to make sure I’m more than receptive to what’s happening, but as I admit myself to the feelings he causes, Zane changes our course with just the touch of his lips to mine. We slip into a brisk intimacy that clouds judgment and dissolves reality, and it’s a time in my life I truly love. The sensation of being completely senseless is one I’d drown in if I was given the choice.
However, Zane clearly doesn’t want to revel in it for too long. Out in the open, he knows that time is of the essence and with a quick jolt moves lower into my panties. Our kiss ends and my lips part, my eyes begin to flutter shut and all because his fucking finger knows how to strike my clitoris and make my knees weak.
“The cameras,” I pant, worrying that this isn’t the most hidden of places. The last thing I want to add to my track record is exhibitionist.
“Fuck them.” He slowly stops flicking my clit, instead keeps his thumb on it as he slips his fingers between my lips preparing to enter me. “Let’s give them the first ever Abbiati sex tape.” I feel him laugh, his breath sweeping across my skin as he does so. “Better yet, let’s give them a real freak show,” he mutters, enlightening me to his sudden mirth.
“You’ll be castrated by sundown,” I comment, my words stilted with my inability to breathe correctly while he works me to a pleasurable state. I can see he cares little for the fallout as he continues to move his fingers, sliding them inside of me, only withdrawing to push his way in over and over again. His actions cause my body to burn up with a fire so intense that I’m worried I’ll combust. I can feel my body tightening, the ecstasy building, waiting to explode like a fever pitch into my veins. Just as my orgasm is about to burst, the quivering I’m feeling about to race into a frenzy, the sprinklers begin to work and I’m left worked up, horny, and unsatisfied. It’s made worse as Zane jumps back, the waistband of my sweats slapping against my skin. I look in shock before the water hits me again, and I run past Zane.
“Fuck!” he shouts, realizing someone’s placed them on full pressure.
“Yeah, fuck is right!” I say, running from the spraying water. “That means we got caught, you bastardo!”
The look of horror he lands upon me should cause hysterics, but right now, I’m so deadly serious that there is no room for laughter.
“How do you know?” he asks, splitting a little.
“How do I know? It might be because the sprinklers come at six AM sharp, not in the middle of the fucking morning!” I don’t know if I should move, run, or allow the ground to swallow me whole, so instead, I take the desperate bid to tear at my hair. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
“Were you two having sex like two kinky school kids?” Enzo asks, approaching us with haste, even though the water has now died down.
I literally jump out of my skin and feel the blush rush across my entire body. Apparently, the sprinklers sparking to life caught him as they did us, and from the look on his face, he has us marked. The sheer look of amusement on his face is enough to make him want to slap him. I will never live this down, and he’s telling me that with just the look he’s shooting me.
“No!” I all but shout at him and I try to cover up my flustered exterior. “I was giving Zane a tour and the sprinklers came on,” I huff, feeling all of my sexual tension beginning to sour my mood and look at Zane. “Seeing as this just ruined the rest of the outdoor tour, lead the way up to house!”
He begins to walk off and I wait for Enzo to follow, but from the bright grin on his lips, he’s waiting on me. As I stomp forward, still soaking wet, he steps in beside me. There’s a moment of silence before he begins to chuckle and I’m forced to brace myself for the onslaught of an interrogation.
“Finally being your age?” he asks, keeping his voice down. “And don’t try and lie. I saw you heading toward me then you disappeared and I find you looking like a child that just got caught with her hand in the cookie jar.”
“It wasn’t my hand in the cookie jar,” I mumble without thought as to what Zane’s hand was doing no more than five minutes ago. I gasp when I realize I said that out loud and look at him, eyes widened with horror, mouth dropping with shock as Enzo looks astounded. “Fuck, I didn’t say that out loud, did I?”
“You did,” he says and just begins to laugh. “Lia, relax. If that’s what you want then go for it. Just don’t make it so public next time. You got lucky that it was just sprinklers they used to kill the heat.”
“Oh, I’m so embarrassed,” I moan, putting my hands over my face. The ground could be generous and swallow me up whole, but it’s still yet to bestow that courtesy upon me. “I don’t know what he does to me
, Enzo.”
“He makes you feel,” my brother states with clarity. “Which is something I love the guy for. You spend so much time doing what others want you to do that it’s nice to see that with Zane you do what you want.”
“I didn’t want to get caught!” I try to resolve my temper from flaring, the embarrassment burrows deep within my bones, and I’m trying not to let every blood cell hit the surface of my skin to show just how humiliated I am. “That means the security saw.”
Enzo says nothing, just begins to laugh hysterically as we make our way up the steps to the house. He doesn’t stop as he walks past Zane, just shakes his head and disappears into the house. I approach Zane with caution. My body is still alive and begging for his touch, needing it to be led to some place of satisfaction after we were torn apart.
“You know if you’re going to discuss me, you might want to wait ‘til I’m more than six feet away,” he comments dryly. “But what a cookie jar I had my hand in.”
I smack him hard on the arm and head into the house, back to the kitchen where we started.
“I know you have a room, but my father asked that a permanent room be made up for you so you can be comfortable in the house.” I give him a quick smile, knowing he’ll love that his room is just across the hallway from mine. “Unlike Lorenzo, you’re here to stay.”
I don’t allow him time to distract me; I leave and make my way from the kitchen toward the main foyer area. We make our way up the stairs; each step builds the eagerness within me. With everyone either out or preoccupied, I wonder what Zane will do to take control of me. After that act of sheer dominance in the garden, I want him to take me, bend me over, and claim me. I want to feel his fingers digging into my hips for days, and I want to have vivid daydreams mid-conversation with people of importance. I want his gaze to set me alight and thrust so much keenness into me that I have to beg to go for cold showers at the most inappropriate times.
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