by Sofia Tate
I don’t want to ruin the beauty of this moment, but something is bothering me, and after a few minutes, I take a deep breath.
“I need to tell you something.”
“What’s going on, baby?”
I exhale and take another breath. “I lied the last time I talked to you.”
“I know you did.”
My mouth drops. “How did you know?”
He smiles, raising his eyebrow at me, as if to say Really?
I smile back at him as he says, “Continue.”
“Ashton stopped by the coat check to talk to me. More like intimidate me. She said that she was engaged to you, that the marriage had been arranged. It was all ‘Davis this’ and ‘Davis that.’”
“I hate it when she calls me that.” He grimaces.
I grin slightly. I knew it.
“Then she told me about the ring, that you bought it for her, and exactly where I could find it in your desk. I need to know if this is true.”
He smiles at me. “I’ve never shown Ashton the ring. The only reason she probably knew it was in my desk was because she must have snooped herself during a party or some other event I had here.”
“Are you serious?” I ask incredulously.
He nods. “That ring is an antique. I never bought it for her. It was my grandmother’s. I just haven’t had time to put it in my safe deposit box. Ashton and I are not engaged and we never will be. I don’t love her and I never will.”
“I think you need to tell her that.”
“I agree. I’ve had enough of her shit, and now that she’s bothering you, saying all of these hurtful things to you, she’s crossed the line.”
I smile and kiss him softly on the lips.
He caresses my cheek with his fingertips. “You can talk to me, baby. Always.”
“Thank you, Davison.”
“Hungry?” he asks.
“Starving.”
“How about a pizza with the works, accompanied by a bottle of champagne?”
“Perfect.”
We eat dinner that night sitting on his floor cushions naked, enjoying it all with Nina Simone’s lush voice as our musical accompaniment.
* * *
I’m singing an aria from Carmen at the top of my lungs as I clean my bedroom the following afternoon. I love the music with its cheerful melody. I’m particularly upbeat as it is, thanks to the three orgasms Davison gave me before I left his apartment. He is a very generous man.
I don’t hear my father knock on my door over the roar of the vacuum. He gives me a start when he waves his hand in front of my face.
My right hand flies to my chest as I shut off the Hoover. “Papa! I didn’t hear you. Are you done for the day?”
“Sì. I need to speak to you about something. Do you have a minute?”
“Certo. What is it?”
I watch as my father pulls a white business envelope from his back pocket. He hands it to me as I sit down. It’s identical to the one I found two nights ago in my building foyer, but this time it’s addressed to him under his birth name, Giacomo Rossetti. I don’t need to look inside to know what’s there.
“Don’t you want to know what’s in it?”
I give in and nod, steeling myself.
My father takes the envelope from me, pulls out the copy paper, and unfolds it. It’s the same picture of me, but this time the five words are I KNOW WHO SHE IS.
“We need to show this to Detective Leary,” he announces.
“No, we don’t.”
“Why?”
I inhale deeply. “Because I found the same thing three days ago. And I already gave it to Detective Leary at the precinct.”
My father’s eyes widen in shock. “What? Allegra, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I can handle it, Papa,” I reassure him.
“What did Leary say?”
I’m not telling him about the perp being possibly connected to Carlo Morandi. He’ll have me on permanent lockdown.
“He said he would look into it. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t accept that!” he shouts. “You are my daughter, cara! When I said good-bye to your mother, I promised her that I would keep you safe. I will do whatever it takes to make sure of that. Maybe I should tell your man—”
I jump to my feet. “No! Absolutely not! You are not going to tell Davison about this! Promise me, Papa. Please. I’m begging you.”
“Don’t you think he should know about this?”
Of course he should. Then I’ll watch as he leaves me, humiliated and embarrassed for himself and his family. I know that is the inevitability of our relationship.
“I’ll tell him when I’m ready.”
My father shakes his head. “If you don’t want to tell Davison, that is your business. But we are going to see Detective Leary together tomorrow. And I want you to call me once every hour whenever you leave the house. I need to know you’re safe.”
“Okay,” I agree. “We’ll go see Leary. And I’ll make sure you always know where I am.”
Papa looks at me worriedly. I can tell he’s scared, and I am too, but I refuse to let this make me a prisoner again. Of course I’ll be careful, but it won’t stop me from living my life. It was enough that I changed my name to put this behind me. I’ve lived in a self-made box for nineteen years, and I refuse to crawl back into it.
My phone begins to chirp from my desk. I disentangle myself from my father and check the screen. It’s a text from Davison. “Papa, I need to text him back.”
He nods, placing a kiss on my forehead. “Fine. I’ll see you for dinner, cara,” he tells me with a clenched jaw.
Once my father shuts the door behind him, I sit down on my bed with my phone to read his message.
I need you, baby. I want you to come over tonight.
I want to see him more than anything. I crave his touch, but then I look over at the envelope that my father left behind.
Would it be okay if I take a rain check? I need to spend some time with my father.
A few seconds later…
All right. If it’s for your father…I miss you. I’ll call you later.
I text him back, I miss you too, Harvard. Xoxo
I fall back on my bed, dropping the phone next to me.
I know I need to tell Davison everything. And I have to do it soon before he finds out from someone else.
Chapter Twelve
What the hell am I thinking?
I’m standing in front of Davison’s office building. The headquarters of Berkeley Holdings are housed in two turn-of-the-century brownstones on a narrow cobblestone street in the Financial District. I imagine horse-and-buggy carts on this street back in the day, gas lamps being lit at dusk to illuminate the sidewalks.
I’m here because I miss him. I can’t get him out of my mind. I’m so drawn to him. His power. His body. The way he looks at me all combine to make a potent combination that makes me feel alive. No man has ever affected me this way. He allows me to forget my past. He makes me feel wanted and desired. When he texted me telling me he always wanted me with him, I knew exactly what he meant.
I don’t have classes this morning. I texted him before I left, asking him nonchalantly what his day was going to be like, wishing him a good day. He didn’t catch on, thank goodness.
Knowing that I was going to be seeing his office for the first time, I couldn’t wear my sweats. Instead, I’m wearing the same clothes I had on for my interview at Le Bistro—a white silk blouse under the black Calvin Klein suit I bought on sale at Macy’s, with black stockings and my black patent leather stilettos. My hair is tied back in the same style I wear at work, my long black winter coat cinched at the waist.
I step into the building, my heels echoing against the marble floor. A young blonde woman is sitting at a tall desk at the far end of the space. She raises an eyebrow at me as she gives me the once-over.
“May I help you?”
I clear my throat. “Yes, I’m
here to see Mr. Davison Berkeley.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No,” I reply firmly. “Tell him Miss Orsini is here to see him.”
She nods. “Very well. Just a moment.”
The woman picks up her phone. “Eleanor, a Miss Orsini is here to see Mr. Berkeley…yes, I can wait…mmm-hmm…very well.”
The blonde turns back to me, pointing to a narrow door on a side wall. “You can go up. Take the elevator to the fifth floor.”
I smile at her. “Thank you.”
Once I press “5” on the elevator panel, I quickly take my compact out of my purse and check my face and hair. I shove it back in just as the elevator comes to a stop.
The fifth floor is the top floor of the building, with a narrow hallway where an older woman, dressed in a pink suit with short chestnut hair, is sitting at a desk outside a set of polished double doors.
“Miss Orsini?” she addresses me.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You can go right in. Mr. Berkeley is waiting for you. Can I get you anything?”
I smile, knowing I’m about to hopefully get what I had come for. “No, thank you.”
I turn the brass knob and walk through the doorway. What I see in front of me paralyzes me on the spot.
Dressed in a black pin-striped three-piece suit and a white shirt, his dark green tie matching his eyes, Davison is sitting in his black leather desk chair, leaning back into the headrest. I can tell his legs are crossed, his hands casually lying on the armrests of the chair. The power he exudes, the way he smolders at me makes me so damn wet, heightened by the sight of the sly grin on his lips. I’m breathless at the sight of him. My heart pounds against my chest, seeing a man of such magnetism and confidence. He can overwhelm me so easily, but I’m no longer frightened by him. He arouses me to the point where I cannot help myself, like a vulnerable moth to a burning flame.
“Forgive me,” he says, “but my secretary doesn’t recall making an appointment with you, Miss Orsini, is it?”
This is going to be fun.
“It must have slipped her mind.”
“I don’t think so. Eleanor is very good at what she does.”
“So am I, Mr. Berkeley.”
“I think I’ll have to decide that for myself.” He rises from his chair and slowly comes toward me. I stand still, dying from curiosity to see what he’ll do next.
Davison stops a few inches from me. Taking the belt of my coat in his hands, he begins to undo it, then comes behind me and gently takes it off my shoulders, holding it in his hands.
Suddenly, I feel his hot breath in my ear. “Why don’t you go try out my chair?”
As I walk to his desk, I hear the click of a door locking behind me. Once I sit down, I’m able to take in more of his office.
Modern and antique sensibilities clash, with antique furniture holding a large flat-screen television that shows a split screen of CNBC and CNN International. The windows provide a stunning view of the Brooklyn Bridge and East River. A round table sits in the far corner, accompanied by four high-back leather dining chairs. The sofas look comfortably weathered, as if they’ve been here for centuries. His Harvard degrees hang on a wall next to a portrait of a man who’s probably the founder of the company. The entire office holds the air of a gentlemen’s club, the kind where men drink Scotch from tumblers while smoking cigars and reading that day’s copy of the Wall Street Journal. A computer sits on top of his desk, along with his cell phone and numerous files.
Davison remains standing at the door, watching me closely with a mischievous grin. “What do you think?”
“So, this is where you make billion-dollar deals and rule over the universe?”
“Something like that.” He smirks. “I like it up here. It’s quiet.”
“Yes. You could probably hear a pin drop from outside.”
He shakes his head. “It’s soundproofed.” He smiles wickedly. “The entire room, including the door.”
I take a deep breath as I cross my legs to stop them from shaking.
Like a jaguar stalking its victim, Davison returns to the desk, never taking his eyes from mine, coming to a stop once he’s standing next to me.
He gazes at me, the look of desire and hunger in his eyes as vivid as the one I know is mirrored in mine.
The rumble that I love in his voice comes to life. “Take your hair down.”
I reach behind and pull the clip out, letting it fall to the floor.
“Unbutton your jacket, then pull up your skirt.”
I take off my jacket altogether, then I sit up and hike up my skirt to reveal the only thing I’m wearing underneath it: a garter belt to hold up my stockings.
Davison lets out a growl and falls to his knees. He pulls the chair to him, the wheels squeaking loudly as they roll against the plastic cover that protects the wood floor.
Thank God for soundproofing.
He grabs my ass, yanking my crotch to his face, diving for my soaked cleft. His fingers hold the outer lips open while he shoves his hot tongue inside me. He is ravenous, pushing his tongue as far as it can go inside my drenched pussy. His lips cover my folds, sucking them into his mouth.
I can hear him moaning in delight at the taste of me on his tongue. I fold my legs over the armrests of the chair to give him more access. He grunts his approval as my hands go straight to his hair, running the soft, silky strands through my fingers, tightening on the roots as he thrusts his tongue into me again and again.
My body is turning into liquid. My limbs are loosening. Soft tears fall from the corners of my eyes from the pure joy I’m experiencing because of him. I am in ecstasy as he pleasures me with no end in sight. “Davison…don’t stop…please…more.”
Without warning, he takes my legs, hanging them over his shoulders. I cross my ankles, locking them as they rest against his back. He starts to suckle my clit, with two of his fingers now penetrating my pussy, impaling me with them over and over.
Oh God…
I’m teetering on the edge. My eyes shut when the wave of orgasm washes over me, bursts of light exploding behind my eyes. I scream his name in release. “Davison!”
When I finally look down, he is staring up at me, his mouth glistening with my cream on his lips. His eyes hold a crazed look, like that of a beast who hasn’t yet reached the point of satisfaction.
Before I know what’s happening, he grabs me and pulls me down to the floor with him as the chair goes flying behind me, crashing into the wall.
“I need you, Allegra,” he rasps. “Need to be inside you now.”
He falls back onto the floor as I sit atop him. I start to undo his belt buckle, his hands fumbling with mine to get it done faster. Our panting breaths are the only sounds in the room.
Once his belt is loosened, he pulls down his pants and boxers, exposing his beautiful hard cock. I settle myself onto him, my cleft wet with desire, greedy to finally take him. He is sheathed inside me. I grin at him, feeling triumphant at receiving what I’d come here for—surprising the man who needs to control everything in his life.
I’m ready to claim my prize. I start to move with him, anxious not to lose our rhythm.
“Take off your top. I want you to touch your tits, baby.”
I tear off my blouse, flinging it over my head, followed by my bra. As Davison watches me, I touch my nipples, pinching them to elongate them. I lick my lips as I stroke my breasts, my eyes locked with his, telling him with one look how aroused and alive he makes me feel.
His hips begin to thrust upward, driving into me. He reaches for my clit, rubbing it between his fingers.
“Come, baby. Come with me,” he whispers to me in a ragged breath.
I buck on top of him as another orgasm takes hold of me, again yelling his name when I come. My core tightens on his cock like a vise as I milk him to his own orgasm, the veins in his neck straining red, his eyes shut firmly as he roars in release.
I collapse on top of him, our rapid bre
aths matching each other’s pace.
“Can I…just tell you…” he pants, “that you coming here…was…the sexiest thing…any woman…has ever done to me.”
When I finally catch my breath, I manage to find my voice. “I aim to please, sir.”
“I can’t believe you did that.”
“Neither can I.” I laugh.
He laughs with me. “Now I want to do something for you.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’m taking you out for dinner tonight. In public.”
A slight tremble shakes my body, but when I look into Davison’s eyes, I know I’m not going to say no. After what had just happened, I’m not going to deny him anything.
“Just not on the Lower East Side. Is that all right?”
He tips his head at me curiously. “Of course. Any reason?”
“No,” I reply as lightheartedly as I can. “I just don’t like that area.”
“Sure, baby,” he quickly agrees. “Anything you want.”
I rise from his body and start to put my clothes back on. I hear Davison zip up his pants behind me. I reach for my coat, but he takes it from me, helping me into it. I smile as he even ties the belt for me.
We stand and gaze at each other. He smiles so sweetly at me, his eyes softened. He reaches for my face, enveloping it, caressing my cheeks with his thumbs.
I don’t want to go, and I wonder if he wants me to, because from the way he’s looking at me and touching me, I think he wants me to stay.
“I should probably go,” I tell him sheepishly.
“Yeah,” he sighs. “But I’ll pick you up at six thirty.”
“It’s a date, Harvard.”
I watch him unlock the door. He clamps his hand over mine on the doorknob to kiss me softly on the lips before I walk out. I smile at him and leave.
As I step out of the elevator, I glance over at the blonde woman at the front desk again, her eyebrows raised at me suspiciously.
I grin widely at her, turning on my heel, my back ramrod straight as I listen to my shoes click against the marble floor. Once I’m outside, I raise my face to the sky, smiling into the sun.
* * *
I can’t stop staring at Davison. This is a moment. I love the idea that nobody else has ever seen him like this, except maybe his mother or nanny when he was a child. I start rummaging around in my purse for my cell phone.
