9

Caterina

Fuck it! I promised myself I wouldn't let this happen again. I vowed to stop feeling sorry for myself, but here I am, sitting at Gianni’s desk with fresh tears streaming down my face. I should have held off on breaking down until I reached Tatiana’s part of the house. When she told me her father had the keys, I planned to grab them quickly and retreat to the bedroom. Instead, the moment I clutched the keys, all my suppressed emotions surged back.

Everything I managed to keep under control during the frantic packing and landlord negotiations came flooding out, and once the tears started, they wouldn't stop.

The reality of it all feels almost unbearable. All that remains are feelings—despair, anguish, heartbreak. The void in my chest widens with every thought. Yes, my relationship with Luciano was deteriorating, and we were probably heading towards a breakup, but that doesn’t make the pain any less. He was my first love, my first serious relationship.

My despair quickly turns to anger. I don’t want to feel or think, but that's all I can do now. Another sob escapes me uncontrollably. My life is falling apart, and I can't seem to gather the pieces fast enough.

My heart pounds louder and louder. Every choice I've made has led me to this point—homeless, staying at my best friend's house. I feel like a charity case, overwhelmed with shame.

I choke back another sob, feeling more exposed and vulnerable in this room. I need to leave Gianni’s office now. The thought of him finding me like this is mortifying. I’d have to explain, and then...

“Excuse me.” That deep, gravelly voice I usually only hear in my dreams reaches my ears.

Oh, no. So much for slipping away unnoticed.

Embarrassment replaces my tears. This is a nightmare. I swipe at my cheeks, then drop my hands to my lap, hoping it will make me look less like I was crying. My cheeks are probably blotchy too.

Gianni's imposing figure fills the doorway. His face is a mask of fury, and for a moment, I forget to breathe. Is he angry with me? I’m acutely aware of my mistake, and the need to apologize overwhelms me.

“I’m sorry!” I croak, frantically wiping at my cheeks. My hands shake with anxiety. I was just supposed to get the keys, not turn his office into a place for emotional breakdowns. “I didn’t... I didn’t mean to. Tatiana said you had the keys, so I came to get them, but then the tears and…”

Jesus, this is a mess. I am a mess. A complete disaster.

“Whoa. Wait, hold on. I left them here, but don’t apologize. It’s okay.” He steps inside, placing the cup he’s holding on a small table near the door, then crosses the room.

His gaze is fixed on me, intense and penetrating.

He says it’s okay, but the fierce look in his eyes makes me hesitate. As he approaches, a warm flutter spreads through my belly. My old crush on him resurges with a new intensity. Even without his touch, I can feel my vulnerability and longing for him.

His perfectly sculpted body fills out his tailored suit in a way that makes my mouth water. He’s so tall.Have I never realized how much bigger he is than me before this point?I can’t look away, and I definitely shouldn’t be fantasizing about what he looks like naked beneath all that fabric. I drink him in, my eyes painting a photographic picture in my mind to save for later.

Sharp, strong jaw. High cheekbones. Firm, full lips. A few age lines crease his forehead as his brow furrows, but he doesn’t look a day over thirty-five. His dark hair is thick and styled in a sexy, no fucks given way.

I let my gaze drift down to his crotch, recalling the vivid memory of his thick, veiny cock.Jesus.I’m grateful for my flushed skin and tear-stained cheeks. It hides the furious blushing I’m doing for a completely different reason.

He comes to stand beside me. Maybe I should feel uncomfortable. That would be a normal reaction, but nothing about this is normal. I feel safe beside him.Guarded.I crane my neck back to look up at him; his masculine features are masked, but his green eyes are bright and bold.

I could stare at him for days. In my mind, he’s always been aGerald Butlerlookalike. I suck a choked breath into my lungs, and cinnamon and coffee cling to my nostrils. The spicy scent makes me want to lean into him, but I stop myself. He’s so close now that I can feel the heat of his skin radiating against mine.

I’m so caught up in his presence and my body’s reaction to him, I don’t realize he’s reaching for me until his hands close around my hips. I can feel his searing touch through the fabric of my clothes. He lifts me from the swivel chair with all the effort it takes to lift a feather and sets me down on the edge of the mahogany desk. My head spins when he drops into the leather chair in front of me, his knees nearly touching mine.

Putting aside the fact that his touch is short-circuiting my brain right now, my mind races in a vain attempt at figuring out what the hell is going on. We’ve never been this close, not in all the times I’ve visited the house. He’s never touched me beyond a pat on the back in passing or a hug, and that’s rare enough.

“Tell me what happened?” He sounds like a concerned father. This is good. How he should be acting. With all the drama and my emotions swirling, I almost forget to worry if he’s going to ask me about that night. God, I hope not. I can only pray it was all a figment of my imagination. That he didn’t really see me because if he did…

Shit, he asked me something.

“Tatiana didn’t tell you?”

He releases a sigh. “She did, but I was hoping you would offer more details. Tatiana was in a bit of a hurry when she stopped by to let me know you’d be staying.”

There’s a tinge of annoyance in his voice. My mental state is fragile enough at the moment. I don’t need to bother anyone else.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I don’t want to put anyone out. I can go stay with my father if you would rather have me do that.”

“Stop,” he growls like a dog protecting a bone. “I asked you to give me more details. I did not ask you to leave.”

The depth of his voice sends shivers down my spine, and I struggle to draw a ragged breath. “My boyfriend—well, now my ex—cheated on me. I know he doesn’t deserve the tears, but my heart doesn’t care.” The words are hard to force out. “After everything we went through, all the moments we shared, he betrayed me. I doubt I’ll ever know how many times.”

“What a fucking idiot. You need to understand this has nothing to do with you,” he says, his voice dripping with a fierce intensity. “Men can be incredibly foolish. Sometimes, we make choices that can’t be undone.”

“I know.” My thoughts are twisted, reminding me that this is what a concerned father would say. It makes me feel like he views me as a child. I cling to that idea, trying to ignore the heat in his gaze and the way his tongue briefly touches his bottom lip.

“Then stop wasting your tears on him.” His voice softens, taking on an almost seductive tone. My breath catches when his thumb brushes a tear from my cheek.

Holy shit. My heart is pounding so hard it feels like it might burst. This can’t be real. I must be misinterpreting his kindness—he’s being fatherly because he feels sorry for me.

But there’s nothing fatherly about the way his voice has deepened or the low growl in his words. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was angry and vengeful on my behalf, but not in a protective way.

No, this feels different. It feels dangerously close to a “touch her and die” vibe.

“Has anyone ever cheated on you?” I have to laugh at myself before he can answer. “Of course not. Not someone like you.” That was a stupid question.

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Why not me? Am I really so elusive that you think no one would ever cheat on me?”

“I don’t think any woman would be foolish enough to cheat on someone as handsome as you.” Shit. The filter between my brain and my mouth must be gone. I just told him he’s incredibly handsome. I’m trying to forget what I saw and avoid making things awkward, and now I’m blurting out something like this.

His laugh is sharp and lacks humor. “Trust me. I’ve got plenty of scars from past hurts. The difference is, you can’t see them. No one is immune to heartbreak; some of us are just better at hiding it than others.”

Was she blind, or just plain foolish?

At least I keep the question inside my head instead of blurting it out. Another tear cuts down my cheek, and once again, Gianni catches it on his thumb.

My skin burns where he touches me. It’s nothing more than a simple caress, but desire tingles in my belly. This time, he doesn’t pull his hand away and cups my cheek with his palm.Soft. Warm.I’m frozen in time, too wrapped up in the pleasure of his touch. If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up. In fact, because this is a dream, I lean into him. I’m weak for this man, and he doesn’t even know it.

“No, little bird.” His breath is shallow, and the intensity of yearning in his gaze pins me to the desk. “The only time tears should leak from your eyes is when you’re choking on my cock like a good little girl.”

Pleasure zings through my core, and warmth engulfs me completely. This has to be a dream because there is no way Gianni really just said what he did. It’s painfully obvious he saw me watching him. My brain is already overwhelmed from the breakup and the move, and now I’m imagining things.

Only I’m certain I’m not dreaming. I’m very much awake—the desk is firm beneath my ass, and my skin is tingling. I inhale his spicy scent deep into my lungs once more to remind myself that this is real.

“Excuse me?” Of all the ways I could respond.

The pressure from his fingers, the way he strokes with his thumb while never breaking eye contact. I can feel it deep in my bones.He wants me.I’m not a child in his eyes.

“You heard me. We both are well aware of what happened the other night. There’s no point in denying it. I know you got off, and I know you watched me get off.” His lip ticks up at the side. “Or maybe you thought I didn’t see you.”

“I…” My brain is melting into a puddle of mush. I’ve always played it safe. I’ve always done what was expected of me. Maybe I don’t want to do that anymore.

“Tell me, little bird, because I’m curious. Have you touched your pussy since that night?” His rough, deep voice echoes through me. The nickname. He said it again. I want to ask him what it means, why he calls me that, but my tongue refuses to work.

It’s one thing to have fantasized about this moment, but another to have him between my thighs, trapping me on the desk. While I’m still reeling from the shock, a tiny voice in my head cuts through the frantic confusion. It speaks only two small words, but their impact is formidable.Why not?

“Don’t be shy, Caterina.” His whisper of breath on my cheek pulls me back to the present. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve touched myself since that night. Many times. Over and over, and over again.” Fuck. His voice wraps around me, tugging me deeper into him.

“Yes.”

“And what were you thinking about while you touched yourself? Me stroking my cock. Or were you wishing for my tongue and fingers to be inside you? Were you jealous, Caterina? Jealous that it was her pussy juices soaking my chin and not yours?”

Oh god, we should not be doing this. My pussy should not be clenching like this. Shame burns my cheeks.

I try to turn away, but his strong fingers grasp onto my chin and force me to face him. “I know that look. The guilt. Shame. There’s no reason to feel any of those things. I loved it. I was watching you every second. Nothing we did was wrong.” His nostrils flare, each breath louder and more ragged than the next. “I have a confession to make. It was you who got me off. Not her. All I saw was you on your knees, your pretty lips parting for my cock, your gags and moans in my ear.” His pink tongue darts out over his bottom lip, and it’s all I can do not to lick my own lips. “And I’ve never come so fucking hard, not without touching someone.” I can’t breathe or think when he’s saying these things. “Imagine how explosive we would be together.”

Even though I know this is real, I still can’t let myself believe it.

“I know what you’re thinking, Caterina.” His voice dips low again, and I press my thighs together to ease some of the ache. “This is wrong. We shouldn’t be doing this. It can’t possibly be real. But it is. And I want more, need more. I know it’s what you want too.”

He’s taunting me, challenging me to step over the moral boundary. He knows that crossing that line is exactly what I’ve been longing for since I first saw him through a woman’s eyes.

“Tell me it’s what you want,” he demands. “Or better yet, tell me you don’t want me so I can erase that night from my mind. So I can pretend it never happened.” His jaw tightens, revealing that he’s been tormented by the memory just as much as I have.

Make the right choice.

You’re a good girl.