I’m selfish and used to getting what I want regardless of the consequences. But this is no time to want something that I can’t have, like this woman to warm my heart and bed, a good woman who has a normal life, one that any father would want for his daughter. No, it would be an impossible situation.
It’s going to be tricky, a birth father and an adoptive father in the same equation. Families are problematic at best, and the Contis are notorious for their ruthlessness. They could just decide to kill her and get rid of the liability. I need to factor that into the equation and make sure it doesn’t happen, or the years it took me to find her will just have been a colossal waste of time and money.
Whatever it takes, I need to resolve this before I lose any more men to Conti’s messages written in blood and sent with bullets. Maybe he doesn’t realize that I’m the reason there have been no wars since my dad died. Well, he’s gonna find out soon enough.
How dare he treat me like I’m nothing because I’m young and because I’m not hisfamiglia? We’re not backing off . . . we’re moving in. With that attitude in mind, I crawl back into bed and fall asleep before the birds start their chirping.
The sun is higher than normal when I wake up and quickly throw on a pair of old jeans I fish out of the laundry hamper. Anticipating Juliet is already up, I head downstairs to check on her.
Fresh pressed coffee greets my nose as I reach the first floor. Walking into the kitchen, I see Juliet standing with her back to me, still wearing my dress shirt. She reaches up to get a cup off the shelf and the shirt rides up, showing me a glimpse of her bare ass. My cock twitches and I want to bend her over the marble counter and take what is mine.
“What are you doing?” I bark, angry that I’m developing feelings for her and that she’s getting to me emotionally. We barely know each other and I’m feeling possessive.
“Making coffee, would you like espresso or cappuccino?” She turns around and blinks at me mildly and I can see the outline of her hard nipples through the thin fabric of the shirt. I clench my fists to stop myself from mauling her and curse myself for not giving her a robe to wear instead.
“Espresso,” I reply with tight lips, giving in to my favorite routine in the morning, except for fucking, because I’m tongue tied and horny.
No other woman has ever driven me crazy like this. How am I supposed to not fuck someone I’m so sexually attracted to? I’m reminded of my vow to remain single seeing how one woman can play with my cock, mess with my head, and pull my heart stings all at the same time.
Christ.We haven’t even fucked. Once that happens, I’m really screwed.
It’s not just her ass made for grabbing that has my head spinning. She has a sweetness about her that is irresistible, even if I’m not worthy of it. I mean, look at the marks on her wrists from the zip ties yesterday. She didn’t deserve that. The regret at hurting her is a first for me. I’ve never thought twice about inflicting pain to get what I want.
Maybe the fact that I’m using her to punish my nemesis is driving my excitement. Whatever it is, I need to keep my focus on building an empire, not building a romance.
“We’re going shopping today. You can’t walk around dressed like that. The minidress you had on yesterday was cute but looks like something your American friend would wear. You are Italian and you need to wear classier stuff.”
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she takes a sip of espresso and questions me with her eyes, one perfectly sleek eyebrow raised. She probably doesn’t think I’m serious. How does one go from being tied to a chair one day to high-end shopping the next? I get it. I’d be skeptical too.
“Yeah, I know. Men hate shopping, but I can’t have you running around half naked. Besides, you need to be able to go outside and use the grounds. There’s a heated infinity pool off the living room,” I all but chastise her for the fact that I’m horny as fuck every time I see her not to mention her shapely legs and pert breasts that would fit comfortably in my large hands.
“A pool?” Her surprise reminds me how unusual it is in Italy for there to be a pool in the backyard. Now she’s getting an idea where she is, somewhere only the mega wealthy can afford to live. But she still has no idea how close she is to Florence. To keep her from figuring it out, we’re going to head in the opposite direction, to places she’s hopefully never seen before.
My personal tailor gave me a list of cities outside Florence where we can shop for designer clothing and it just so happens we have an errand to run in Milan anyway. I don’t want to return to Rome just yet, so we’re going to need the jet.
“We need to get you something other than my shirt to wear,” I repeat with a wave of my hand as if it’s nothing unusual. She leans in to set a cup of espresso in front of me, and rather than averting my eyes, I admire the view and then I grumble under my breath when I pop a boner.
I can’t breathe, swallow, or blink as I watch her full breasts and pink nipples rub and harden against the fabric of my six hundred-euro Dolce & Gabbana shirt. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was flirting with me, but that’s not like her. She’s not flashy or trashy. If anything she’s unassuming and sweet.
My cock swells and I’m uncomfortable as it strains against my jeans and I’m dying to pound one off inside her right now, but I can’t bend her over this table in front of the guards. No, this will have to be planned. An overnight stay in Milan is just what I need. Great views, out of sight, sounds like a solid plan. I’m impressed I came up with that idea so quickly.
God, get it together, I chastise myself. I like it better when I’m in control of the situation, and right now, I definitely do not feel in control. Maybe all this serving me coffee half naked is a setup, a ploy to get me to lower my guard. Flirting leads to fucking, and fucking leads to mistakes.
I down my espresso quickly and leave abruptly.
I feel her eyes on my back, but I have things to do and occupying my mind is the only way I can keep it off her pussy.
***
I have Riccardo bring me more espresso as I reply to emails on my phone while he gets the jet ready for a day out, maybe even an overnight trip. I have him pack a bag for me while I sit in a cushioned chair by the pool, a pool I rarely use. I should probably swim more. I’m thirty and don’t want to lose what God was kind enough to bless me as I eat anything I want and I’m still thin.
I use the inside gym three to four times a week to keep my chest and arms not just looking good but strong enough to fight if I need to. I played football in college, but these days, I don’t have time for organized sports, nor would it be wise for me to do so in any case. Adding swimming to my routine might be a good idea.
And the anticipation of seeing Juliet in a swimsuit is just the motivation I need.
Riccardo sits beside me while I text pictures of Juliet’s birth certificate to Conti. I tell him that we have her and that the hits on my men need to cease or she’ll be on his conscience.
Three dots show up on my phone, then nothing.