MILLIE
The sense of ease and relaxation that had enveloped me throughout our dinner melted away as Gio and I made our way back to the penthouse, crossing the threshold into our bedroom. The ambiance shifted, and a subtle tension settled in the air. I retreated into the bathroom, taking my time to prepare myself for what lay ahead before emerging once more.
Gio’s gaze swept over me as I stood before him in a long, dark satin nightgown. Its length reached down to my calves, yet a daring slit traveled up to my thighs. Comparatively modest to the attire I had been forced to wear on our wedding night, but I couldn’t deny the desire that seemed to flicker in his eyes.
As Gio disappeared into the bathroom, I gravitated toward the window, seeking solace in the sprawling cityscape that glittered under the night sky. Nervousness, akin to the previous night, stirred within me. My heart raced, knowing that I was not prepared for anything beyond the realm of kisses and embraces. I kept my gaze fixed outside as I sensed Gio’s presence beside me. His commanding form was mirrored in the glass, and, in a manner mirroring the day before, he was clad only in briefs.
His hand extended, fingers reaching for me, and a rush of tension cascaded through me. It was an invitation, a choice, yet deep down, I recognized there was only one response that was expected of me. Slowly, I turned to face him, though my attention was momentarily captured by a faint scar etched into his palm. My fingers traced its lines gently, curiosity brimming in my eyes. “Is this from the blood oath?” I ventured softly, my gaze lifting to meet his enigmatic expression. I knew that during the initiation ceremony, new members drew their own blood while reciting sacred vows.
His gaze shifted to his scarred palm, then to the one I touched. “No, this one,” he nodded towards the scar beneath my fingertips, “was earned in a fight-a confrontation where I had to fend off a knife attack with my bare hand.”
Questions swirled within me, unasked, lingering on the edge of my thoughts. I wondered about the first time he had taken a life, a question that remained unspoken as he curled his fingers around my wrist, drawing me closer, and guided me towards the bed. My throat tightened, words stifled, as he settled on the mattress and drew me to stand between his legs. His kiss deepened, and as he made no overt move to escalate, a semblance of ease slipped back in, allowing me to savor the taste of his experienced lips.
The tension that had begun to dissipate surged once again as he reclined and gently tugged me down onto the bed beside him. His kisses intensified, and the evidence of his desire pressed against my thigh. Despite the rising heat of the moment, I resisted the urge to pull away. This was a path I had consciously chosen to walk, a step I had mentally prepared for. His hand cupped my breast, evoking an involuntary tenseness within me. His touch was unyielding, yet static, as his lips continued their fervent exploration.
Lost in the haze of sensation, a fleeting thought tiptoed through my mind-was it truly so wrong to give in to the allure of Gio’s advances? Was I truly unready for what he offered? But his lips withdrew slightly, leaving a trail of kisses that edged towards my ear. His husky whisper reverberated, causing my entire being to freeze. “I’ve never wanted to possess a woman as intensely as I desire you right now.”
Time seemed to halt. His words, though undoubtedly honest, sliced through me, leaving a pang of discomfort and a whisper of self-disrespect. Yes, he was my husband by societal norms, and many believed that bestowed him certain rights over my body. Yet, I held onto the conviction that I deserved more than this. I yearned for a connection deeper than a mere physical encounter, transcending the boundaries of lust.
Turning my head slightly, I found my voice, my palms gently pushing against his chest as I summoned the courage to articulate my feelings. After a momentary battle, he acquiesced, disentangling himself from me. In the encompassing darkness, he lay on his side of the bed, wordless. Despite the tumultuous emotions swirling within me, a part of me wished for his embrace, a comforting gesture in this foreign territory that was now my home. But I held back from seeking solace from him.
With the room plunged into darkness and his form still and distant, I found solace in pulling the covers around me, shutting my eyes against the uncertainties that lay ahead. It was the first night away from my family, in this unfamiliar space that was meant to be our sanctuary. The tension lingered, my heart held a mixture of apprehension and defiance, and with a deep breath, I surrendered to the embrace of sleep.
~*~
When the sun streamed through the curtains the following morning, I found myself alone in the room. The empty space beside me was a stark reminder that Gio had vanished. No traces of his departure were left behind-no note, no message on my phone. His departure seemed to be fueled by anger, leaving me with a mixture of confusion and frustration. The realization hit me: he was truly furious. I threw off the blankets in a surge of emotion, cursing him under my breath. It struck me as callous that he was well aware I had no acquaintances in New York, yet he seemed utterly indifferent to that fact.
Determined not to let his actions ruin my day, I hauled myself out of bed and grabbed my laptop. Hoping for a distraction, I opened my email, only to find three new messages from Harper. Her words held an almost ominous edge in the latest one. Frustrated and feeling somewhat isolated, I dialed her number. The sound of her voice on the other end was an instant comfort; it was a reminder that I didn’t need Gio or anyone else, as long as I had Harper by my side.
The aroma of coffee mingled with something sweet wafted into the room, coaxing me downstairs. The clatter of pans greeted me as I entered the kitchen area. A plump woman, her age apparent from the wisdom etched into her features, stood at the stove. She could easily have passed for my grandmother, her dark gray hair tucked into a hairnet. Nearby, Dario sat on a barstool, nursing a cup of coffee. He glanced in my direction as I approached, his gaze taking in my nightgown, an unspoken comment evident in his expression. Seriously?
Breaking my train of thought, the woman turned and offered a kind smile. “You must be Millie. I’m Melanie.”
I extended my hand for a handshake, but Melanie enveloped me in a warm hug, her embrace surprisingly reassuring. Her words followed, delivered with affection. “You’re quite the beauty, honey. It’s no wonder Gio is smitten with you.”
Suppressing a retort that danced at the tip of my tongue, I managed a gracious smile. “The aroma is simply delightful.”
“Have a seat. Breakfast will be ready in a moment. There’s plenty for you and Dario,” Melanie said, her tone inviting.
Perching on a stool next to Dario, I couldn’t help but notice his deliberate avoidance of looking in my direction. Frustration surged within me, finally pushing me to break the silence. “What’s your issue? I’m not parading around naked,” I quipped, my patience wearing thin.
Melanie’s laughter rang out. “The boy is simply worried that Gio might find out he’s been stealing glances at his girl.”
I shook my head, a mixture of exasperation and amusement bubbling within me. If Dario insisted on acting like a coward, he could very well dine with his eyes closed. I had no intention of donning a bathrobe just to accommodate his discomfort. After all, I needed no bodyguard within the confines of my own home.