by Lucia Black
He crossed his arms. “I can’t play the piano.” He was content to listen to her play the piano. He thought it was really sexy when she played the piano. But he didn’t tell her that. “You’re still not answering my question.”
She stopped playing and set her hands in her lap innocently. “What question is that?”
“Why the fuck are you here?” he repeated with more aggression than was probably necessary.
“What do you hope the answer is?”
He marched up to her and leaned over her, dwarfing her on the piano bench. “You are the cruelest sort of bitch, you know that?” She blinked up at him and he snarled, “You’re just here to rub salt in the wound.” And he felt like his wounds had been sufficiently salted.
“I’m not marrying Giovanni. I don’t know where you were, but we made that announcement. And I said in front of everyone that I’m in love with you.”
He stood up and turned around, hands in his hair. He’d been fool enough to believe her too many times. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Tell you what you missed? The wedding is off.”
“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
“I meant it,” she said behind him.
He spun around, face twisted in pain and longing. “When have you ever fucking meant it?”
“Every single time I had to force myself to pretend that I didn’t love you. Every time I thought about us over the past ten years. Every time I died a little more on the inside thinking that I’d have to live my life not having you. And when your brother and I shook hands and agreed to not marry each other because he doesn’t love me, and I’m in love with you—I fucking meant it.” The fire behind her eyes drew him in like a moth to his inevitable demise, but in that moment, he believed her. He stared, and she sat back, lifting her chin. “So I’m single, I just declared my undying love for you in front of your family and God and everyone, and now I’m sitting at your piano.” She paused, eyebrows raised in a challenge. “What the fuck are you gonna do about it?”
His mouth crashed against hers before she could speak again. He was bent over awkwardly to reach her, but he didn’t care. He needed her more than he needed air to breathe. His mouth left hers to bite and suck at the sensitive patch of skin just below her ear with every intention of leaving a mark. Because she was his. She was here. She meant it. It was true. The little strangled gasp she made hung in the air for a moment like a crystal drop of water, frozen and shining and beautiful. He wished he could hold on to it, but he would settle for inspiring her to make more precious little sounds.
They tugged each other’s clothes loose with a desperate passion specifically reserved for making out on a piano bench right after she breaks her engagement to your brother. He pushed the pale blue dress off her shoulders and unfastened her bra, lips still locked on her neck. When he finally pulled away to let her slide out of the dress, he admired the dark purple bruise he’d left on her neck.
He touched it with gentle fingers. “You are mine, princess. You always have been.” He pulled his shirt over his head with most of the buttons still done and unbuckled his belt. Lorna didn’t argue. She knew. She straddled the piano bench and leaned back, exposing the dark stain on her silky panties. He groaned at the sight and stepped out of his pants and boxers to sit in front of her on the bench and pull her onto his lap.
She wriggled her hips to find the best way to grind against him. His fingers dug into the skin of her thighs and she nipped at his earlobe. “You know, this is the first time we’ll have sex that I’m not engaged to your brother.”
She twisted her hips just right, and he groaned, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her head back to look at him. “Does that mean you want me to be gentle?”
Her hand circled the base of his throat and applied only enough pressure to make his heart beat a little faster. “Not a chance.”
“Good.” He needed her fire, he needed her nails and teeth, bites and scratches and bruises. He needed to feel her urgent need for him. Fuck, he just needed her. His other hand slid down to rip her panties off and toss them aside.
She laughed into his neck. “I liked those,” she scolded, but rolled her hips against his, drawing an unintentional moan from deep in his chest.
She felt so warm and wet against him, and fuck, she was actually his now. “I’ll buy you new ones,” he promised, and moved his hands to her hips. He paused before he pushed into her. “Is this okay?” He could go get a condom, but that would involve standing up and walking all the way to his bedroom and he really didn’t think he could wait that long to be inside her.
“Yes.” Her eyes flickered with fire and he pulled her down onto him without another thought.
The way she shuddered as she slid over him made his lungs ache and his head feel full of weightless light. He lifted her hips slowly and slammed her back down. Her nails raked down his back, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He leaned forward to push her against the piano bench and thrust deeper.
Her fingers dug into his skin, pressing into the muscle as she held on. She tightened around him as he pounded, panting heavily. The way she cursed and clung to him told him he was doing something right. The wet sound of skin slapping against skin reverberated through the room, bouncing off the piano and straight back to Alessandro’s ears. He leaned his face down to eagerly swallow all of Lorna’s beautiful moans.
“Say you’re mine,” Alessandro mumbled against her mouth. He pinched her nipples and sucked on her tongue and felt her clench around him and squeeze his hips between her thighs.
“I’m yours,” she breathed, pressing against him in time with his thrusts.
“Say it again.” He reached between them, pressing into her clit as he drove into her deeper. She gasped, grabbing his hair and pulling, as her inner walls tightened around him.
She looked him in the eyes, her heavy lids threatening to close as she got lost in the oncoming orgasm. “I’m yours,” she said, her teeth clenched.
He didn’t slow down, chasing his own high. She didn’t stop him. Her legs began to tremble and shake. “Say it again.” He pressed her clit again, harder, rubbing furiously.
Lorna screamed and her pussy clenched around him with the force of her orgasm. “I’m yours,” she cried out.
He followed soon after, burying his low moans in her shoulder and breathing heavily until he returned to earth. He lifted his head to look down at her, and he smiled at the angry purple marks dotted across her neck and shoulders. She was his. She meant it and she was finally his.
31
Lorna
The hospital room looked just as inhospitable as every other time Lorna visited. Wires hooked him up to monitors that blinked and beeped. A couple of IV drips hung from a metal tree on wheels beside the bed. Blinds covered the small windows, throwing the room into a flickering fluorescent lack of shadows. Her father lay under the sterile white sheets, awake, but weak.
“Ah, Lorna, I thought you’d forgotten me.” He didn’t mean it, and the smile that pushed his limp cheeks up to crinkle his glassy eyes was bright and genuine.
She sat on the edge of the bed, cringing at the smell of isopropyl alcohol and antiseptic spray. “Of course I didn’t forget you.” It still chilled her heart to see him like this, but he had improved some. There was color in his face again, and his hands fidgeted with the blanket restlessly instead of lying still and dead on top of his chest.
“So Mina came up for the wedding?” her father asked, looking for good natured conversation.
Lorna took a breath. “Yes.” This was the reason she came, and as important as this was to her and as confident as she felt in her feelings, nerves still tangled themselves around her stomach. “But the thing is, the wedding won’t happen the way we planned.”
He looked very calm, almost disturbingly so, and Lorna wondered if it were a side effect of the heart attack. “Why not?” He didn’t seem disappointed, just curious, waiting for her to tell him everything.
&
nbsp; She laughed uncomfortably. “So, you remember that summer Alessandro came to stay with us?” She might as well start at the beginning. The first time she saw Alessandro as something other than the asshole from middle school who used to pick on her for her glasses and braces. The first time she fell in love. Many, many firsts.
Her father nodded. “He was a respectful boy and a fast learner. I like him.” He sounded sure, and that was some small comfort.
So far so good. “Well, over that summer, I sort of fell in love with him.” She paused to gauge her father’s reaction. He didn’t seem surprised, but he raised his eyebrows to encourage her to continue. “And I sort of never fell out of love with him,” she admitted, and braced herself for a lecture, or at least a disapproving sigh.
Neither came. Her father nodded slowly. “And that affects your wedding now.” He didn’t seem to be angry. He could put together the pieces and figure out what she was going to say, but she knew she had to say it, anyway. She couldn’t leave it at that. To gain any sort of respect, she had to spell it out like she had for Don Moretti.
She steeled herself. “I’m not going to marry Giovanni.” It was easier to say the second time. And it felt more real. The echoes of the same high she felt last night making the declaration to the entire wedding party washed over her in a light-headed rush. “I’m not going to marry Giovanni,” she repeated, and she couldn’t help the smile that snuck onto her face.
Her father crossed his arms, tapping his fingers thoughtfully. He still didn’t look angry, which she didn’t quite understand, just pensive and curious. “And how did you come to this decision?
Lorna knew she needed to tread carefully. “Giovanni and I talked about it. We don’t love each other, and we never will. Being married won’t bring us closer. It’s more likely to build resentment between us and cause problems in the future.” She spoke with caution, weighing every point and watching her father for any reaction. He only listened with the same undivided attention he always gave her. She continued, “Giovanni and I are both mature enough and business savvy enough to build a solid alliance between our families without having to marry each other.” She knew she sounded confident and in control, but nerves still tickled around in her stomach.
Her father again nodded slowly. “And he is in agreement?”
“Yes,” Lorna assured him. “I know the importance of following through on my promises, and I will keep my word to maintain a relationship between the families. But I’ll do so under the terms that best reflect the desires of the parties involved.” With her hands folded in her lap, her shoulders square, her back straight, she looked like the very picture of an executive businesswoman. She hoped that would be enough to sell her argument. She prayed he could see the logic of her thought process. She waited with bated breath while her father mulled her words over in his mind.
His hollow face drew slowly into a smile. “I’m proud of you, Lorna.”
That was decidedly not the reaction she expected. “What?”
He reached out to cover her hands with one of his. She held onto his hand with its papery skin clinging loosely to sharp bones. He looked weaker than he ever had, and his hand felt frail, but there was a strength behind it, the same as he ever had. “Your mother told me last night,” he admitted with a small, apologetic smile. “I was surprised, but I wish you had said something sooner. I’ll support you. Always.”
Tears of relief prickled behind Lorna’s eyes. “Thank you.” She looked down at the hand in her lap. “Thank you, Dad.”
“You are such a strong and bright young woman, and I know sometimes it can seem like you’re just another piece on the game board.” He squeezed Lorna’s hand. “But first and foremost, you are my daughter, and I do care about your happiness.” He paused to let that sink in a moment. “I love you, Lorna.”
Lorna laughed through the tears that leaked onto her cheeks, and she leaned down to hug her father. “I love you too, Dad.” He wrapped his arms around her. They were weak and didn’t hold the power they used to, but they held every bit of the love. This wasn’t like Logan’s hug. Logan had all the strength her father lacked. But what her father lacked in strength, he made up for in heart. She never anticipated him saying that he was proud of her. She never thought that outright disobedience would earn her his respect. But here she was. And despite the fact that she felt like she might break him if she squeezed too hard, it was the most comforting hug he’d ever given her. She never liked to hide things from him and finally being honest felt so freeing. An enormous weight lifted from her shoulders. A sudden warmth against her chilled skin.
She sat back after a moment and her father tapped the end of her nose. “So, you really love Alessandro?” His tone wasn’t judgmental or dubious or disapproving, just curious.
“Yes.” She nodded and smiled wide, wiping her face. “I do.”
Her father matched her smile. “Then you have my blessing.”
She bowed her head. Her heart felt weightless. Everything inside her was made of glowing, golden light. “Thank you.”
The beeping monitors and flashing lights sang a happy little song for her, and Lorna felt more free and truly happy than she’d felt in ten years.
32
Alessandro
The air smelled green. The surrounding trees reached toward the sun with long branches that swayed gently in the light breeze. Alessandro’s pocket felt heavy. It carried more weight than the little black velvet box inside. It carried the weight of a lifetime. He shouldn’t be nervous, he knew he had no reason to be, but his heart beat quickly in his ears and his stomach fluttered in anticipation.
Lorna absolutely glowed in the sinking sunlight. Golden rays through luminous green leaves gave her a halo as she walked in front of him, looking up in wonder at the trees older than time growing up and up and up. She had always been lovely, but in this moment, her beauty made his heart ache with a deep throb that settled into his bones and resonated through his blood. Her existence made his existence worth it.
Birds sang to each other overhead and cicadas screamed from the trees. In front of him, Lorna slowed to a stop between some thick underbrush where the path cut through. She looked back at him and grinned. “Found it.”
They’d been hiking for a long time on a trail that boasted a waterfall at the end. They’d begun to doubt that there was actually a waterfall, but as Alessandro approached the break in the underbrush, he could hear it. The rush of water tumbling over stones and echoing off hollow rocks. The sun turned the falling water to fire and the splashing droplets to stars. The grassy ground fell away into dark stone surrounding a bubbling creek that danced away from the waterfall in a gentle curve.
He found a rock that protruded over the basin of rippling water at the base of the waterfall and sat down to strip off his shoes and socks and dip his toes in the cool water. It sent a thrill through him, really too cold for wading or even for toe dipping, but thrilling, nonetheless.
Lorna sat next to him, content to leave her shoes on and swing her legs over the water, shivering in the spray from the waterfall. “It’s pretty,” she said, analyzing the glassy elegance of the falling water.
“Was it worth it?” he asked. It has been a long hike, up some steep hills. They were both tired, though they would neither one admit it.
She considered. “Yes. I think so.” They watched their surroundings in comfortable silence, drinking in the moment, the waterfall, the liberating feeling of the open air, the thick smell of life and green growing things. Lorna crossed her legs. “The sun makes it all gold.”
The box in his pocket grew heavier, pressed tightly against his leg. “Yeah. You like gold?” he asked lamely, looking for a way to steer the conversation. He really shouldn’t be so nervous. He knew her answer.
She laughed, but it wasn’t judgmental. “Yeah. I like gold.” She hummed and her voice took on a lofty, melancholic tone. “But nothing gold can stay.” He raised his eyebrows, clueless, and she rolled her eyes and playfully shov
ed him. “Robert Frost,” she scolded, like he should have known that, then took on her lofty tone again, half a British accent, all breathy and full of feeling as she recited the poem to him.
He clapped his hands together automatically. Such a performance deserved applause. “Beautiful.”
She shoved him again, laughing. “No, no. You snap for poetry, you don’t clap.”
He snapped his fingers emphatically and dissolved into more laughter. It was the most beautiful sound. The evidence of her joy, the happiness he caused her. He loved her laugh and would give anything to hear it every day for the rest of his life. “But some gold things have to stay, right?”
She put a thoughtful finger to her lips. “I don’t know. I can’t think of any.” He couldn’t tell if she was being facetious. She might have figured out the reason he brought her here. She might be playing along to humor him.
“I mean, gold doesn’t just walk away, does it?” He looked into her clever, honey-brown eyes and nearly drowned in their unfathomable depth. He wouldn’t walk away. He couldn’t if he tried. He had tried, and everything she was pulled him back to her.
A gust of wind blew the spray from the waterfall in her face and she held up her hands in futile defense, laughing easily. She was so carefree now. He hadn’t realized quite how tense she had been before, but he could tell the difference now that she had relaxed. Her shoulders sloped softly, her back curved instead sticking stock straight. Her head moved more fluidly without all the tension in her neck. He wrapped an arm around her to pull her away from the splash zone, and she rested her head comfortably against his shoulder.
“I think, in the poem, he means that nothing that starts off gold stays gold.” Her voice sounded sleepy, melodic, at odds with the thunder of water in front of them.
He watched the water hit the bottom of the basin and come bubbling back up. He never really thought about the violence of waterfalls before, but a waterfall from the right height with the right amount of pressure could crush a person. The water at the base of the fall churned and frothed, but cast in golden, fading sunlight, it was still beautiful. He tightened his arm around Lorna and fingered the heavy little box through his pocket. “I think the law of conservation of matter says that alchemy is impossible.”
