Protecting What's Mine

by Jennifer Sucevic

  With masterful fingers, he continues strumming my aching clit. The low murmur of his deep, sensual voice pushes me toward the precipice of release.

  “That night, I made two women come.”

  Those words are what send me careening over the edge. I throw my head back and scream as he pumps his thick fingers in and out of me. He doesn’t stop stroking until he’s wrung every last drop of pleasure from my body. Until I can do nothing more than lay in an exhausted heap on the seat next to him, breathing hard and ignoring the fact that my dress is hiked up and my lower lips are swollen from his ministrations.

  When he removes his hand from between my legs, I slit my eyes partially open and watch as he sticks his fingertips in his mouth before sucking them.

  “I knew you would taste just as delicious as you looked.”

  I didn’t believe it possible, but those words instantly make my core throb back to life.

  I whimper as a pleased smile spreads across his handsome face.

  Chapter Eleven

  The following week flies by in a blur. There isn’t much time for me to dwell on how easily I spread my legs for Matteo. Classes at Northwestern begin as does my volunteering stint at The Art Institute. I tell myself that I have more than enough to keep my mind occupied. I’m nonstop busy during the day and crawl tiredly into bed every night.

  I’d be lying through my teeth if I didn’t admit that I spent the first couple of days keeping my eyes peeled for my next-door neighbor.

  The morning after the limo incident, the ride down to the lobby was nerve-racking. I considered not running. Or going at an alternate time. But then I realized, I have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. I had a sexual encounter with a gorgeous man. I’m certainly not going to skulk around the building as if I did something wrong.

  I didn’t.

  What happened, happened.

  No big deal.

  End of story.

  My palms were a sweaty mess by the time the elevator doors slid open. My knees almost gave out when I realized that he wasn’t waiting for me in the lobby. I was so relieved that I ended up running seven miles that morning.

  It must have been all the nervous energy thrumming through me.

  Every morning for the rest of the week, I held my breath as the elevator doors opened to reveal a smiling George at his post.

  I want to ask the doorman what he knows about the resident in Thirty-B, but I don’t. Even if George were privy to information, he wouldn’t share it with me.

  By Thursday, I know our morning runs are a thing of the past. It’s just as well. Clearly, Matteo got what he was looking for.

  He told me himself that he doesn’t date women.

  Just fucks them.

  The man was blatantly honest about his intentions. I can’t claim that he led me on.

  And I let him touch me without so much as a peep. I spread my legs wide and allowed him to finger fuck me while talking dirty in his melodic voice.

  I want to shake my head as those thoughts crash down upon me.

  I’m not sure what’s worse- that I let him finger me in the limo or that he brought up the fact that I masturbated while listening to him screw another woman.

  It’s a toss-up.

  It would be in my best interest to avoid my neighbor like the plague until we both forget these two incidents occurred. Until I can look him in the eye and not turn the color of an overripe tomato.

  I have a lot going on, so pushing him from my thoughts when he does pop into them isn’t a problem. My mind is fully engaged with the art history classes I’m taking this semester. School is challenging, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m immersing myself in the program. And I love volunteering at The Art Institute. If I could squeeze a few more hours into my schedule for it, I would.

  Each echoing corridor and every beautifully displayed exhibit all bring back nostalgic memories of my family that fill me with comfort. I feel closer to my parents when I’m there. The museum is like a second home to me. I know every collection. I can recite from memory every informational card regarding the displayed work.

  I’ve also made a few new friends, too. Abigail, Zoey, and Clint are in my classes. We’ve already had lunch on campus. Kim and Jonathan are volunteers at the museum. Jonathan has taken me under his wing and shown me the ins and outs of being a docent.

  Every day, life becomes a little fuller. A little less lonely. I’m making a concerted effort to introduce myself to new people, which is something I haven’t done in years. What I love most is that no one has any idea about what I’ve been through recently. Pity doesn’t fill their eyes, just interest in getting to know me.

  I start each day by running five miles before class. I usually hit the streets around seven, and I’m out for about an hour. It’s become habit to stop in the park right by the sparkling blue water to take a moment or two to catch my breath and feel grateful that I’m no longer in the bad place I once was.

  I’ve moved on.

  I’m moving forward.

  It feels wonderful.

  I’ve already forgotten about the gorgeous guy next door.

  Matteo who?

  Yep. That’s exactly right.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Dominic Grimaldi is here to see you, Ms. Castile,” George says on the other end of the line.

  “Thank you. You can send him up.”

  I grab two small plates and take them out to the sun-filled balcony. I spend more time out here than anywhere else in the condo. I know this will change once the weather turns colder. For now, I just want to soak it all up. Most evenings, I bring my books out to the patio and read or work on homework.

  It’s so relaxing.

  Well, it’s relaxing as long as I don’t think about Matteo.

  My ears are constantly pricked for the slightest noise. So far, there’s been nothing but silence. It’s like he isn’t even there anymore.

  Maybe he’s on vacation. Or out of town for work. Who knows? I shouldn’t even care.

  Wait a minute- I don’t care.

  Hopefully, there will come a point in time when I actually believe it.

  As soon as I set the appetizers on the table- caprese salad and a buffalo chicken dip I made myself- the doorbell ring. On bare feet, I silently pad across the hardwood floors in the living room to the entryway that leads to the door. This place is too big for just myself, but I love it. I love that there’s so much space to move around in.

  With a smile, I open the door to find Dominic standing on the other side with a bottle of red wine in his hand. Right away he opens his arms wide, and I immediately step into their comforting strength.

  Wrapped in his embrace, I privately acknowledge that Dominic has been my rock through the last couple of years. What would I do without him? When I still felt lost and adrift during senior year of college, he’s the one who suggested I get out of Seattle and move back to Chicago.

  I untangle myself from him to close the door and link my arm through his.

  “I made appetizers for us to munch on.”

  His eyes light up. “Does a nice cabernet go with what you’re serving?”

  “As far as I’m concerned, cabernet goes with everything.”

  He pats my hand as we head to the balcony. For just a moment, he stands at the railing, taking in the view. I do this all the time. The patio is my happy place.

  “It certainly is beautiful out here.”

  I can’t resist teasing him. “Well worth the two point nine price tag?”

  He rolls his eyes. “I never said that, now did I? I think you might tire of the view. In a few months, you’ll be trying to unload this dump.”

  I sputter out a laugh before waving a hand toward the picturesque sight. “Do you really see me tiring of this anytime soon?” Not in a million years.

  He pauses as if giving my question serious consideration. “I suppose it could happen.”

  I shake my head as we settle in at the small round glass and iron tabl
e. It reminds me of the charming café tables lining the streets of Paris.

  “You know,” he says, “I have even better views at my place. Right on the water with a nice strip of beach all to ourselves. We could sail and swim every day. The heated pool feels amazing this time of year.”

  I slant a look his way. “There’s a heated pool here.”

  “It’s not private,” he points out.

  “It’s private enough,” I fire back in a singsong voice.

  I’ve lived at Lexington Place for over a month. Not once have I given Dominic any reason to suspect that I’m unhappy or have experienced buyer’s remorse regarding the condo. Yet he keeps tossing out comments about me moving into his house. I think he’d be thrilled if I decided I’d had enough of living in the city and stayed with him for a while.

  I guess he’s lonely rattling around in that big house all by himself. He has Maria. She runs the household and cooks, but still, it’s not the same as having a family. I’ve also noticed that he doesn’t seem quite as busy as he once was with his law firm. As the practice flourished over the last fifteen years, he’s hired a number of associates. I think he’s starting to slow down. Not long ago, Dominic often put in eighty-hour work weeks. There were times when we wouldn’t see him for months because he was slammed with clients.

  Our verbal skirmish has the corners of his lips tipping up impishly.

  He really is handsome. And he only seems to grow more so as the years go by. I have no idea why he isn’t seriously involved with someone. Now seems like the perfect time.

  “Fine, fine, fine. Just know that my door is always open anytime you want to come home.”

  “Thank you. That means a lot to me.” More than he could possibly understand. With my parents gone, it’s nice to know that someone cares about me. That I’m not alone. I have Dominic.

  He glances around again before taking a sip of his red wine.

  “You’re happy here?” I think he needs reassurance that I love my new home. That I’m not trying to put on a brave face for his benefit.

  For a moment, I take in the view as a light breeze slides over my cheeks. “I am. I love it.”

  It may not be the answer he wants to hear, but he looks satisfied. “Good. In the end, your happiness is all that matters.”

  We munch on the appetizers, and I tell him all about The Art Institute and how my classes are progressing. We talk about Chloe and how she and I have fallen right back into our friendship. He asks a few questions, but mostly allows me to talk about everything that’s been going on.

  “I’m proud of you, Gracie. You’re settling in and making this place your home. Obviously, moving here and starting school have been good for you.” After a pause, he adds softly, “I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time.”

  I allow his words to wash over me, realizing that he’s right. I am happy here. My life feels as though it’s on track again. As if I’m moving forward with purpose and not just trying to slog through each day. Thinking about my parents doesn’t crush my soul the way it used to. I can remember the good times we shared, how wonderful they were, and how much I loved them without spiraling into a depression.

  Needing the physical contact, I reach across the table and wrap my hand around his. “I can’t begin to imagine where I would be or what I would be doing if I didn’t have you in my life.” It’s a frightening thought. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

  His eyes soften. “Your parents meant everything to me. And so do you. I love you, Gracie. You and I are family. Nothing will ever change that.”

  I nod in agreement. My heart feels full, almost as if it’s bursting at the seams. “I love you, too.”

  Breaking the thick undercurrents of emotion coursing between us, he gives me a little wink before saying, “It’s just you and me, kid. Against the world.”

  I laugh. For as long as I can remember, he’s said that to me. When I was little, he would sneak me a treat or a small present. Then he’d give me a wink and say that phrase. Dominic has always been the one man in my life I could trust implicitly.

  I hope that never changes.

  Glancing down at my fingers, I force myself to ask a question that’s been eating away at me. “Am I the reason you don’t have someone special in your life?”

  The last thing I want is for him to put his life on hold for me. He’s been doing that for too long. It’s time for both of us to start living again.

  “What?”

  My eyes lift to meet his curious blue ones. “It just seems like you’ve been spending so much time with me lately. I don’t want to get in the way of your social life.”

  He chuckles before relaxing in his chair. “Is that what you think?”

  I shrug. I’m not sure what to think about the situation. I know that Dominic used to have a pretty active dating life and now… not so much. “You don’t have to babysit me. I’m okay on my own.”

  “I don’t consider us spending time together to be babysitting. I love that you now live here, that we can get together whenever we want.” He gives me a look. “You have to know that.”

  Sucking in my lower lip, I nod. “It’s just that you haven’t mentioned seeing anyone lately. I don’t want to be the reason for it, that’s all.”

  One of his brows rises as he continues watching me from across the table. “I’ve been out a couple times, but it’s nothing worth mentioning. I’m actually tired of all this dating nonsense.”

  A chuckle bursts free. His words are almost shocking. “What? You? Tired of dating? I don’t believe it! You used to have a different woman on your arm every time we saw you.”

  Unapologetic about his past, he merely grins.

  It’s easy to see why woman are so attracted to him. With thick blond hair, bright blue eyes that are always laughing, an athletic build from when he played college football, and now a successful law practice, Dominic Grimaldi is a catch. He was listed a few years in a row as one of Chicago’s most eligible bachelors. The two-page spread of him in the magazine was hilarious. My parents teased him mercilessly about it.

  “That was a while ago. Apparently the unthinkable has happened and I’ve matured.”

  I grab at my heart. “No! Say it ain’t so!”

  “I’m afraid it be so, sweetheart. All good things must eventually come to an end.”

  I lean forward. “Does this actually mean that you’re ready to settle down with one woman?”

  His gaze becomes hooded as he continues to sip his wine. “I think it might be time.”

  I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. Dominic has always enjoyed a steady stream of women that were readily available at his fingertips. “Any serious contenders on the horizon? Anyone I should meet?” I can’t resist teasing him. “Just remember, they’ll need my stamp of approval before things get too serious.”

  He shrugs. “Oh, there might be one or two worth taking a closer look at.” Since he just came from the office, he’s still wearing a dark gray suit. His tie has been loosened, and the top button of his white shirt is open. He looks more casual, more approachable than when he’s at the office.

  Even though I want him to find someone to share his life with, I love that we’re able to spend so much time together. I have a hard time imagining what it would be like if someone else shared all these moments between us.

  A quietness settles over us as we get tangled up in our own private thoughts. The lull isn’t uncomfortable. We know one another so well, that we can just sit silently.

  We can just… be.

  After a while, he clears his throat. “There’s no easy way to bring this up, but I think it’s something we need to talk about.”

  Glancing up, I know that whatever he’s about to say is serious. I can tell by the somber tone now filling his voice. Which can only mean that it must have something to do with my parents. I brace myself for whatever he’s going to say next.

  “The house in Seattle…” He leaves those words hanging
in the air before continuing. “Have you given any consideration as to what you want to do with it?”

  The air slowly dissipates from my lungs until there’s nothing left. For a second, I feel panicked. It’s as if I can’t breathe.

  Feeling apprehensive, I admit, “I haven’t given it much thought.” I’m almost afraid to ask. “Why?”

  “I hate to see it sitting empty. It’s been two years now. And with you seeming so settled here in Chicago, I just assumed you wouldn’t want to return.”

  “I… I don’t know.” We moved to Seattle when I was in seventh grade. I spent six years in that house until I left for college. When Mom and Dad died, I stayed there with Dominic for three months, but after that…

  I couldn’t bring myself to go back. Even for a weekend or spring break, it was just too heart-wrenching.

  Dominic eventually closed up the house and found a company to take care of the maintenance. A couple months ago, before the move, I contacted them about which pieces of furniture I wanted shipped to Chicago. Even then, I shied away from stepping foot inside that house.

  “Gracie?”

  His sympathetic gaze meets mine when I glance at him. I don’t even realize that tears have gathered in my eyes until one slowly slides down my cheek. Dominic’s chair scrapes against the patio’s cement floor as he comes around the table and squats in front of me. He places his palms on my cheeks. Using the pads of his thumbs, he wipes the tears from my face.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m a jackass for bringing it up. It’s way too soon to think about selling the house.”

  I ask in a small voice, “Is that what you think I should do?”

  I haven’t given it much thought. Mainly because the idea of letting the house go feels like losing another piece of my parents. One of the last pieces. Their cars are still parked in the garage as though they’ll be back from vacation any day now.

  But they aren’t coming back.

  They’ll never live in that house again or back their cars out of the driveway to head to work in the morning.

  Selling the house they painstakingly restored is like permanently letting go of them, and I’m not ready for that. Not yet. I find it oddly comforting that the house still stands, left precisely as it was the day they died. Mom and Dad’s clothing hangs in the closets and lay neatly folded in their dresser drawers. Paperwork is still strewn about my dad’s desk.