"You're full of secrets, aren't you?"
Her voice startles me. I'm sitting in my home office. Dawn hasn't broken yet and when she'd had her fill of ice cream and me, she'd finally fallen into a deep sleep. I'd kissed her softly before I pulled myself from the bed to make a call to our European head office in Rome. I'd spoken as quietly as I could so as not to wake her.
"You're not an undercover reporter doing a story on my family, are you?" I smooth my hands over the sweatpants I'm wearing again. "Come, sit here."
She walks over quickly, her body covered by the dress shirt I wore to dinner. I prefer it on her, even though her hands have disappeared beneath the fabric of the arms.
I adjust her into the perfect spot before I circle my hands around her waist. "What new secret have you uncovered, Ms. Lane?"
"Secrets," she corrects me with a soft kiss to the mouth. "As in more than one."
I claim her mouth again, this time tracing my tongue over her bottom lip. "Tell me about these secrets."
"The first is that you're reading that new detective novel that everyone is talking about on social media." She trails her index finger over my chin.
"You saw it on the nightstand. That's hardly a secret."
"That's not the actual secret." She slides her hand to the back of my neck so she can pull me into a long, lingering kiss. "The secret is that you read the last page before you'd even finished the third chapter because you were so anxious to know the ending."
"Parli Italiano?"
"Yes," she whispers into my cheek. "I speak Italian."
"How much of that conversation did you hear?" I try to sound stern but it's futile. "More importantly, where did you learn to speak Italian?"
"I heard the last few minutes of it." She nuzzles her face into the crux of my neck. "I wasn't eavesdropping. You weren't in bed so I wanted to find you."
"I'm glad you did."
"My grandmother spoke Italian." She runs her fingers over my chest. "She loved an Italian man desperately when she was my age."
"So your grandfather is Italian?" I ask, pulling her even closer to me.
"No, the Italian man loved an Italian woman. My grandmother married a man from Ireland."
I laugh loudly. "Did the Irish man make her happy?"
"He was Irish." She tilts her head up to look into my eyes. "What do you think?"
"I think she loved him enough to marry him so he made her very happy."
"He did." She nods faintly as she cups my cheek. "Until the day he died."
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Isla
"That's only one secret, Isla." He brushes his cheek against my forehead as I rest my head on his chest. "What's the other secret?"
This one is harder. It's not playful and fun. It's also not my business but I don't do well with curiosity. It eats at me. It's only a question. The worst that can happen is that he'll tell me it's none of my business.
"It's about your fuck pad."
"Fuck. Pad," he says the words separately, decisively. "What is that?"
I sigh heavily in jest as I look into his eyes. "It's the place you take all the ladies to when you want to nail them."
His brows cock in unison. "Nail them? No. Don't. My brother talks like that."
I smile at the expression on his face. "We'll start over. I have a question about the hotel room that you use to fuck women."
"Why are we talking about that?" He shifts beneath me. "It's a hotel that is owned by my family. I use the room occasionally to entertain."
"Call it what you will." I tap his shoulder. "I don't care about that. I was wondering about the bedroom."
"What about it?" I hear the uneasiness in his tone.
"There's a chest of drawers there. It's locked."
He scrubs the back of his neck with his palm. "Yes, I keep that locked."
"What's in it?"
He leans back, slightly breathless. That reaction should be all the answer I need but it's not. "I'd rather not discuss this, Isla. At least not right now."
His legs move beneath me. I stand up sensing that he needs me to. "That's fine. I was just curious."
He rises to his feet too. "We need to preface that conversation with one about your experiences."
"My experiences?" My hands leap to my chest. "I'm not sure I'm following. What experiences?"
"You enjoy being bound," he says quietly. "Restrained."
I nod, shifting nervously on my feet.
He rakes both hands through his hair. "You responded when I spanked you. Pain gets you off?"
"It depends who is administering it," I confess. "I liked when you did it."
"What else do you enjoy?" He drops his hands to sides. "Tell me what else you've done that you've liked."
This isn't the discussion I anticipated when I walked into his office. I honestly thought he'd tell me that he keeps dildos in those drawers to use on the women he brings there. The worst thing I imagined was that he'd confess to me that he collects the used panties he's ripped off all the women he's fucked there. I never imagined this would be turned around on me.
"I was in a sex swing once." I dart my index finger into the air. "That was hot."
His hands jump to his lips. "I'll keep that in mind. What else?"
"I once sucked a man off on a bus," I begin. "It was late and dark but…"
"No." His chest heaves. "I don't mean that."
"You asked." My hands dart to my hips. "I'm just telling you what I've done."
Before I can react his hands are on my biceps, gripping, tugging. "Have you ever been flogged, Isla? Has a man ever whipped you? Have you ever come from having hot wax dripped onto your skin?"
I shake my head slowly, ever so slowly from side-to-side.
"Nipple clamps? You've used though, yes?"
"No, sir."
"That's what is in those drawers, Isla. Those are the things I keep there, they are what I enjoy."
I lace my fingers together in front of me. "I've never done that, any of that."
He closes his eyes. "I didn't want this conversation to happen now. I would never have chosen to share these things this way, this early. "
I should say that I want to try, or at the very least, that I want to know more, but I can't. Not yet. Not when I'm uncertain that I have the internal strength to do any of it.
"Can I go home now?" I ask quietly. "I think I should go home."
"No." His voice is edged with a plea, just as his expression is. "Let's go back to bed. Let me hold you until morning. Please, Isla."
I should have stayed there, wrapped in the sheets that still held the scent of our lovemaking. If I had done that, this wouldn’t be stuck in the air between us now.
"I'll stay until morning." I reach for his hand. "I'll stay."
***
"I need you to understand something." He's on his knees next to the bed as I open my eyes after falling back asleep. "I have to explain something to you before I take you home."
I roll onto my side so I'm facing him directly. I tuck my hands next to my face. "What is it, Gabriel?"
"You have the most melodic voice I've ever heard." He brushes my hair from my forehead. "You're a good singer, aren't you?"
I smile. "I can't hold a tune. I'm a fantastic violinist though."
"The best I've ever heard." He licks his bottom lip. "I've never met anyone quite like you before."
"That's because there's only one me."
He laughs. "You have no idea how true that statement is."
"I've never met anyone like you before either." I swallow past the lump in my throat. "Last night was amazing. I've never had a night like that."
"I need to say something about what happened in my office." His voice is still sleepy. "The things I spoke of don't define my desires."
"You like them though."
"I find them arousing."
I wipe the back of my hand over my eyes, trying desperately to chase the sleep away. "The first time my boyfriend tied m
e to the bed, I was scared."
His expression softens as he traces his index finger over my chin. "Did you tell him that?"
I exhale harshly. "I did and he assured me. He got on the bed next to me. He held me close. He told me he'd take care of me and we choose a safeword together."
"Haze?"
"No. It was something else. I don't remember anymore what it was."
He presses a kiss to my forehead. "Did you use your safeword during that encounter?"
"I didn't have to." I look up and into his eyes. "He was gentle. It was a fantastic experience."
"Did he spank you?"
"Not that time, later, other times."
He hesitates for a moment. "Tell me why you like the spanking. How does it feel?"
I duck my head down for a moment to shield the blush I feel racing over my cheeks. I've spoken about intimacy to men before, but not like this, not with this level of vulnerability. No one has ever tried to understand me this way.
"It feels freeing; almost like I'm letting go." I rub my thighs together. "There's also the physical part of it. My pussy trembles when I'm spanked. Everything feels so much more sensitive."
"It can be that way with a flogger, or a crop too. Those sensations, you can feel them more intensely under the skilled hand of a man who knows how to push you to the edge."
"Do you want to do those things to me, Gabriel?"
In one fluid movement he's on the bed, his hands braced on either side of me, his face hovering close to mine. "I want to give you the most intense pleasure you've ever experienced. Whether I use my hand, my mouth, my cock, or anything else hardly matters. I just want you to feel as much as you can under my touch."
I want that too. I want to tell him that but I can't. It's all too much.
"I told you I'd never push for more than you can give, Isla. I meant that."
"I know that you did."
"Will you promise me one thing?"
If he'd look at me the way he is now for every day of the rest of my life, I'd promise him anything. "What is it?"
"Promise me that you'll let me take you to the symphony tomorrow night as planned." His lips graze my cheek. "Let me see you experience that."
"There's no one else in the world I'd rather go with than you."
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Gabriel
"Why are you smiling? You never fucking smile." Caleb gestures over the small table in the crowded café at me. "You're nailing someone, aren't you?"
This time the vile word actually brings an even wider smile to my lips. "Don't be crude, Caleb. I'm seeing someone."
"Seeing, nailing, screwing, call it whatever the fuck you want."
"Seeing. I'm dating a remarkable woman." I take another bite of the sandwich I'd ordered before he arrived. I'd suggested lunch in the office, this hole in the wall was his idea.
He looks past me to the expansive menu scrawled across a chalkboard hanging over the open kitchen. "I'm starving. Give me half of your sandwich."
"Order your own," I say mid chew. "You should get in line now if you're going to make it back to the office before our meeting."
"We need to discuss dad." He drops his gaze from the menu to my face. "He's jumping into this marriage thing without a life boat."
"A life boat?" I swallow a mouthful of water. "It's another euphemism for sex, isn't it? If it is, I don't want to talk about it."
He pulls a half-eaten candy bar from the inner pocket of his suit jacket. He takes a large bite. "There's no prenup. He's marrying her without anything in place."
Even my father wouldn't be foolish enough to do that. "You're mistaken. Roman is smarter than that."
"Roman is pussy whipped right now."
I drop my sandwich on the paper plate in front of me. "I told you never to talk about that. I don't want to know who he's sleeping with."
He reaches across the table to pull my sandwich into his hand. He folds open the bread, pulling out a soggy tomato. "He's marrying her, Gabriel. Don't tell me you think she's hopping on that train for his mad skills in the sack. He's giving it to her alright but it's all about the money."
"How do you know there's no prenup?" I finish the last mouthful of water from the plastic bottle I'd ordered with the sandwich. "Who told you that?"
"Dear old dad did." He chews heartily. "He called me up this morning to share that tidbit of information with me."
"You told him he's lost his mind right?"
"I told him she was screwing his brains out for what's in his wallet, or more accurately, what's in our collective wallets since dad still owns a share in the company."
"Is he getting a lawyer?" I scroll my fingers over the screen of my smartphone. "I can call one right now to handle this."
"He's dead set against it. According to pops, she's the love of his life."
I push my hands against the edge of the table and stand. "Bring that with you. We're going back to the office. It's time we had a discussion with Caterina Omari."
"You're going to cut her a check too, aren't you?" He drops the remainder of the sandwich back on the paper plate. "That's how you're going to make her disappear."
"You can't put a price on love, Caleb." I button my suit jacket. "If she takes the bait, we've saved Roman from that shark. He'll thank us…eventually."
***
"I need you to get Caterina Omari on the phone." I gaze down at Sophia, who is just finishing her own lunch which, judging from the crumbs and crust, was a slice of pizza. "Where did you get that pizza?"
"Why?" She tosses the paper cup filled with soda that was just in her hand in the trashcan. "I'm allowed to eat lunch at my desk, sir, aren't I?"
"It smells delicious." I tilt my head to the left. "You'll order that for us both tomorrow."
A small smile pulls at the corners of her mouth. "I can do that, sir."
"Who died?" Caleb walks back out of my office to stand in the open doorway. He'd walked right past Sophia without a second glance when we stepped off the elevator. Much of that had to do with the fact that he was absorbed in a phone conversation with his wife.
"Someone died?" Sophia's hand jumps to her chest. "Shall I send flowers, sir?"
Caleb knocks on the doorframe. "It looks like someone already did. You're the one who accepts deliveries for Gabe, aren't you?"
"Gabriel." I toss him a look. "What are you talking about?"
"There's a bouquet of dead flowers on your desk. Either someone died or you pissed someone off. Either way, I need to run. Rowan is on her way to my office."
He pats me on the back as he brushes past me on his way back to the elevator.
"There was a delivery, sir." Sophia rises to her feet. "I'm sorry but I didn't realize the flowers were dead. I can remove them right now."
"No." I wave her back down with my hand as I catch sight of the bouquet of stunning black tulips in a large vase on my desk. "Hold my calls. I'll buzz when I wish to speak with Caterina."
"Certainly, sir."
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Isla
"Your mother's attorney called this morning." Mr. Ryan nods to his assistant as he places a cup of coffee in front of him. "Are you sure you don't want something to drink, Isla?"
I don't. I had two cups of coffee this morning with Cassia before we both left for work which is two cups too many for me. I have exactly an hour for this meeting before I have to back from lunch. I want this to be over quickly. "I'm fine, Mr. Ryan."
"Garrett." He smiles softly. "You need to start calling me Garrett."
My gaze drops to the stack of papers he'd placed in front of me when I sat down. "What did her attorney say?"
"I'm obligated to tell you this by law." He leans back in his chair, crossing his legs. "If I wasn't required to do that, I wouldn't bring it up."
I scratch my cheek. "It's another settlement offer, isn't it?"
"It is." He reaches forward to grab the coffee mug. "It's not worth talking about. I see no reason to entertain a
ny offer from them."
I haven't until now either. Up to this point, the money that I've been receiving from the account that my grandmother set up in my name has been limited to a few hundred dollars a month. It was meant to cover my expenses while I attended Julliard. She had little doubt in her mind that I'd study there and the small offering from her estate was for covering my everyday expenses. A lot has changed now that I'm twenty-one. I'm now entitled to receive everything she willed to me.
"What if I settled with her?" I smooth my hands over the skirt of my dress. "If I did that, she'd drop her lawsuit, right?"
"Your mother's lawsuit has no merit, Isla." He sits upright in his chair. "Your grandmother's will was very clear. Your half-sisters each receive a small lump sum when they reach twenty-one. You inherit all of her properties, investments, and the remainder of her estate."
I don't need to hear that. I've heard it over and over from countless attorneys. The numbers may change slightly as the stocks rise and fall but the bulk of it is several homes in different corners of the world and more money than anyone can spend in their lifetime.
My grandmother and grandfather worked hard their entire lives and when combined with the wealth she inherited when her own father died, it's accumulated to what could be a life of leisure for me. That's not my intention though. My intention is to carry on my grandmother's legacy, including her dream of being a principal violinist with the New York Philharmonic.
"I want this to be over." I tap the top of the papers. "You've already told me that this may drag on for years and years."
"It's a possibility," he admits. "Eventually the case will be heard before a judge. I have no doubt that you'll be awarded everything your grandmother left you."
"My grandmother's heart was so soft." I swallow to curb the emotions I'm feeling. "She loved my mother, but she was disappointed in her."
"Your mother made some unforgiveable decisions." He coughs into his hand. "You know how I feel about the funds that were transferred from your trust account to her."
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