“I don’t think so,” she said. “I think my father deserves to die.”
“He does,” he said, sure of this. “That doesn’t mean you’ll thank me for it.”
“Must we talk of this now?”
He turned to look at her. “I’ve had a thought.”
“Just one?”
He chuckled. “It’s been hard to have many more thoughts other than, ‘Naked Ziafiata,’ just recently, I admit. But no, I mean about what we’re trying to accomplish with the caporegimes. They’re convinced we’re involved.”
She gestured at her bare skin. “I think we are involved.”
“Exactly,” he said. “Why hide it? After all, as you say, your father must think that you have seduced me into allowing you to go free. They can think that you have seduced me into doing your bidding. Once your father is gone, you will appear commanding and alluring. I think this was even your original plan before I objected to it.”
“You objected because you said you didn’t wish to have to touch me.”
“Perhaps I won’t need to,” he said. “Everyone keeps noticing the way I look at you. Perhaps that will be enough. Do you think so?”
“Yes,” she said. “I think it might.”
“Good, then,” he said. “We must make it all very public. Your father may suspect you of going against him and he might hurt you, so we must make sure that everyone in the entire city knows you are going back to him. I’ll throw you a party here in the tavern, and we’ll invite everyone. At the height of it all, I will make a toast to you, and I’ll say that I will give you anything you wish. You’ll declare you want to be sent home to your father, and I will agree.”
“And then, once I’m back, I will help you get to my father,” she said.
“Yes,” he said. “And if… if after all that, if you still wish it, we can continue this, whatever it is.”
“I will wish it,” she said, turning on her side to face him.
He smiled at her. “You are very beautiful, do you know that?”
She smiled back. “You are not so bad to look at yourself, Chevolere.”
“I very much like the way you look without your clothes,” he whispered.
She wanted to kiss him.
She didn’t.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The preparations for the party took on a public air as well. Chevolere took her all over the city, buying whatever seized her fancy, and making sure to conspicuously ask for her opinion on everything he purchased. Everywhere they went, he commented on how she had changed him, how he could deny her nothing, how he adored her.
He even brought her to negotiations with pirates, pointedly asking her opinion on how much he should pay for iubilia.
Word spread quickly that she had Chevolere under her thumb, that he deferred to her in all things.
Everyone wanted an invitation to the party.
The tavern wasn’t large enough, so Chevolere decided to change the venue. He rented the ballroom at the Magnifica. He brought her there and asked if it would please her, declaring at the top of his lungs that he should find her anyplace that she desired if it did not meet her favor.
She couldn’t say she disliked his little performances. They were playing their own private game together, and she found it exhilarating.
At night, they were exhausted, and he was up late talking to people about the actual business of running the tavern, which he still had to see to even as he was planning this lavish party. She found herself falling asleep waiting for him to come up the stairs.
If he did come to visit her room, she slept through it.
One night, however, she resolved to stay awake, and she managed it. Two hours after the tavern had closed, she heard Chevolere’s heavy steps on the stairs, and she went out of her room to greet him.
He was yawning as she came out of her room. “Ah, you’re awake tonight,” he said.
“I wanted to stay awake,” she said. “I thought we could…” She toyed suggestively with the ties at the top of her nightdress.
His gaze darkened. “You aren’t too tired?”
She shook her head.
He followed her into her room.
Now, that they were here, she felt shy and unsure of what to do. She fiddled with the ties of her nightdress, trying to find the courage to simply take it off.
He took off his mask. He put it his pocket. He tugged off his tunic and his cape and he folded them and lay them in a pile on the floor.
“I suppose,” she whispered, unable to tear her gaze away from his chest, “I should undress too.”
“Do you…” He put his hands on the laces of his trousers. “Do you still wish to see me?”
“Of course.” She was eager for this.
“Perhaps if we don’t…” The bottom went out of his voice. “Maybe not too much at once?” He sounded worried. “You keep your clothes on, then.”
“All right.”
He drew in a breath and let it out. He squared his shoulders. Then, without looking at her, he began to fumble with the laces of his breeches. He struggled with them, and she wanted to help, but she knew that would make things worse for him, so she only waited, biting down on her bottom lip.
Finally, he got them untied and loose. He pushed them down an inch. He inched them down, lower and lower, and then he stopped, just on the verge of revealing himself. He looked up at her.
She stopped biting her lip. “Are you all right? If you don’t think you can do it, you don’t have to, of course.”
“Would that disappoint you?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Answer the question.”
“Maybe a little bit,” she said. “But if you don’t think—” She broke off because he’d just given another push, and he’d sprung free.
Oh.
She bit down on her lip again.
He was large and thick and so very, very rigid. He was sticking out, pointing straight at her like an arrow.
She made little mewing noise.
He let out a breath.
“I want to touch you,” she said, before she could stop herself.
“No,” he gasped.
“I know I can’t,” she said. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I—”
“I like that you want to,” he said. “I want to let you. I want it, too. I only…” He made a noise low in his throat, in frustration.
“One thing at a time,” she murmured. “Can you touch yourself?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Would you…?”
“Do you want me to take off my nightdress?”
“No.” He winced. “I mean, yes. But not yet?”
She nodded.
“Could you turn around for a moment?”
“All right.” She did.
He made a low, groaning noise. “It’s all right,” he said. “You can turn back around.”
She did.
He had his hand wrapped around his girth, and it was the most erotic thing she’d ever seen in her entire life. She couldn’t stop herself from putting her hands on herself, touching her breasts through her shift.
He let out another groan at that.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed. “If you want me to stop—”
“I don’t.” He stroked himself. “Keep your nightdress on, though. Just… rub yourself through it like you’re doing. That’s very…” He grunted. “Good. Very good.”
She was panting. She thrust her hand lower, finding her core.
He was panting too. “I won’t last any time at all,” he said in strangled voice. “If you need me to—”
“I don’t need anything from you except for you to keep dragging your fist over yourself the way you’re doing,” she gasped.
He shuddered. “Blazes, Ziafiata.”
“Let yourself go, Chevolere,” she breathed. “Let yourself go for me.”
He convulsed, throwing back his head, and she watched the way his neck undulated as the pleasure went through him.
<
br /> She pinched herself between her legs and tumbled over the edge too, lost to bliss. Something about watching him fall apart, it was incredibly sensual. She moaned and twitched as pleasure shot through her.
Then they both simply stood there, looking at each other, trying to each catch their breath.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The party happened on a Friday night, and it was the most talked-of event in all of the Rzymn underworld. Everyone who had an invitation came and a number of people who did not have invitations came also. There were three vast rooms in the Magnifica packed with people.
The ballroom was bursting at the seams and the other rooms were soon cleared of sandwiches and hors d’oeuvres. The wine went quickly too, as did the cocktails. Soon, it was only ale, barrels and barrels of it that were tapped as the music swelled and the people danced.
The party spilled out into the streets of Rzymn, and people toasted the health of Chevolere and Ziafiata and drank deep as they stared up at the glittering stars.
Scavo cornered Ziafiata to gloat over being right about her and Chevolere.
She smiled, shrugging. “It was his last bit of resistance. He didn’t want anyone to know how thoroughly I possessed him. But eventually, I broke through that too. He is my creature, as you can see. He is mine to do with as I wish.”
“I do see,” said Scavo. “You are formidable, Ziafiata Abrusse.” He clinked his glass of ale against hers.
She was certain that when the time came, Scavo would see her strength. She would take her father’s place at the head of the Abrusse family. It would all come to pass quite soon.
At midnight, she joined Chevolere on the steps in the midst of the ballroom. They stood on a deep red carpet that spilled down the stairs and Chevolere clinked a fork against his glass until the gathered crowed quieted to hear him speak.
“Thank you,” said Chevolere when the silence filled the room. “I wish to address you all here to sing the praises of this woman, the most excellent woman in all of Rzymn, my own Ziafiata.” He paused here, pointedly.
Belatedly, the crowd applauded.
Chevolere smiled. “There is nothing that I will not do for this woman, as it is quite plain. Have I spared any expense in this party in your honor?”
“No, indeed,” she said to him. “You have not.”
“Have I not given you everything you have asked for and more?”
“You have, Chevolere, but—”
“But?” He drew himself up. “Aren’t you pleased, my darling? Haven’t I given you everything you desire?”
“Chevolere,” she said, “I came to live with you when you won me in a card game. You have held me captive in your tavern for all this time, and a gilded cage is still a cage.”
“What are you saying?”
“Do you love me?”
“Can you doubt it? I worship you.”
“If you love me, set me free,” she said. “Let me return to my father.”
He turned away from her, taking a long drink from his wine glass. He had the only wine left in the entire party.
Below, everyone watched breathlessly, waiting to see his response.
“I will return to you, my love,” she said. “Don’t you trust me?”
He turned back to her. “Of course I trust you. And of course you are free. Visit your father, then.”
“And my sisters,” she said.
“Yes,” he said. “Your whole family. You must see them. Tomorrow morning, you will go to them. They must miss you. But you will return to me?”
“I will,” she said.
“Then it is a promise,” he said. “Let us seal it as such.” He put his hand out, palm up, and she blinked at him, confused. “Give me your hand, Ziafiata.”
She placed her hand in his.
He gazed into her eyes, his gray eyes flashing. He drew in a breath, and she could see that he trembled, but she thought no one else could.
What was he doing?
Abruptly, he tugged her close, her body colliding with his chest.
She gasped, surprised at this closeness.
He squeezed her fingers where he still held her hand. His other hand came up to brush her cheek.
Her heart went out of rhythm. She gazed up at him, unsure of what was happening.
“Ziafiata,” he breathed, too quiet for anyone to hear but her.
Carefully, he put his lips on hers.
It was like a gunshot, loud and hot and explosive. Her whole body tightened and she moaned into his mouth.
He pulled away, and he was shaking.
She put her fingers to her lips.
He managed a smile.
“Oh, Chevolere,” she whispered.
He shook his head at her. “Come now, we must make it look as though we do that all the time.” He turned back to the crowd, who were all cheering.
She beamed out at them.
Chevolere raised his glass. “Music!” he roared. “Dancing!”
More cheers.
The music came up, swelling as he pulled her down the stairs and onto the dance floor.
* * *
They did not make it back to the tavern until quite late. Dawn was only an hour off, and Ziafiata thought she’d had a bit too much to drink. Perhaps Chevolere had too. They were stumbling as they climbed the stairs.
At the top, she paused before going into her room. “I suppose I should rest before I go to my father.”
“Yes.” He nodded, reaching back to untie his mask. “You’ll need your rest.”
She turned to look at her door, which was slightly open. She could see the room where she’d slept for all these weeks. She turned back to him. “I wasn’t expecting the kiss.”
He laughed. “I didn’t think I’d be able to pull it off, so I didn’t say anything.”
“But you did,” she said.
He shrugged, looking helpless. “I did.”
She took a step toward him. “Do you think… could we do it again?”
“Oh, Ziafiata.” He shook his head.
“No?”
“I…”
“But no one is here,” she said. “It’s just us. And was it so very terrible to kiss me?”
“It was not terrible at all.”
“So?”
He dragged a hand over his face. “Oh, my sweet, beautiful…”
She licked her lips.
“Come here,” he said, his voice very deep and very determined.
She stepped closer.
He seized her hand as he had done before and pulled her against him.
She searched his gaze with her own.
He furrowed his brow as he looked her over. He seemed to be concentrating very hard. He lifted a hand and he let it hover next to her face.
Her pulse started to thrum beneath her skin.
His fingers darted in to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.
She gasped at his touch.
He let his fingers linger, tracing shivery lines over her jaw and cheekbone.
She lifted her lips, offering them to him.
He traced the outline of them with his forefinger.
She shut her eyes.
His breath was hot against her face. His lips pressed into her forehead. “I can’t, Ziafiata,” he murmured in a trembling voice. “I’m sorry, but it’s too much.” He let go of her, taking a step back.
She opened her eyes, reaching out for him.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
“Do you… do you think of her when we touch? Of your sister and what happened to her?”
“No,” he said. “No, I only think of you.”
“Then…” She shifted on her feet. “Why is it too much?”
“You overwhelm me. You make me out of control.”
“You make me feel that way too.”
“It frightens me.”
She shrugged. “I suppose it frightens me too.”
“No, it frightens me that I’ll…”
She waited.
<
br /> He never finished.
“That you’ll what?”
He took his mask from his pocket and unfolded it. Then he folded it again. “When you first came to me, and I was threatening you, terrorizing you, I… blazes, Ziafiata, some part of me enjoyed it.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
He crushed the mask in his fist. “I would know, wouldn’t I?”
“You enjoyed it when I was afraid of you?”
“I was aroused, wasn’t I? You felt how hard I was.”
“That’s not the same thing,” she said. “I wasn’t wearing any clothes. I think any man—and a lot of women too—would be unable to control their physical reaction to nudity. It’s rather just the way a human body functions—”
“Stop,” he growled.
She stopped.
He shoved the mask back in his pocket. “If I let myself get too overwhelmed, what if it takes me over, and I do something awful to you?”
“You wouldn’t,” she said.
“But what if I did?”
“Then I would slit your throat just like I did Diago’s.” Her nostrils flared.
His eyes widened at her tone, at her fierceness.
“You know, Chevolere, never mind it all. I am tired.” She stalked into her room, shutting herself inside.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
She woke only after a few hours sleep, tired but too agitated to sleep any longer. She didn’t expect to find Chevolere awake, but he was down in the tavern as the workers mopped the floors and bustled about in the kitchen. He sat at a table with a cup of coffee. When he saw her, he got to his feet.
She went to him. Should she say anything about what had happened last night, or rather this morning? What would she say?
“You don’t have to do this,” said Chevolere.
“What are you talking about?” she said.
“I wish to release you from any arrangement we have made between us. I don’t need you to be part of my revenge on your father. I don’t feel as though it’s right to ask it of you.”
“But how will you manage it without me?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I think you may be not be… be pleased when it is done, however. I would spare you the confusion of feeling responsible for it at all. If you need to, you may hate me, but I don’t wish for you to ever hate yourself. I couldn’t bear doing that to you.”
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