CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I had no intentionsof bringing Gia to orgasm. Ever. Not when I kidnapped her. Not when I formulated my plan to marry her. Not when I accosted her in my office after our meeting with the priest. And sure as hell not on my yacht on our way to dinner.
Now, seated in my private plane, I’m thankful she chose to sit in a chair instead of the leather couch. I’m not sure I’d have been able to keep my dick in my pants during our short flight.
I don’t bring women to orgasm and not fuck them after. I’m a selfish lover. Lucky for the women I fuck, I enjoy giving orgasms. Not solo though. Not like this. Not to make a woman happy. To prime her for rough, hard sex, only.
What happened with Gia won’t happen again. She’s already beaten down my defenses, already has me doing things out of character. I can’t blame her. She hasn’t done it intentionally. She’s in survival mode, and I have to respect that about her.
Any other woman would be in a fight of hysterics, crying, yelling, demanding. At first, that was the way with Gia, as was anticipated. I hadn’t expected her to come to my terms so quickly, so easily. Especially not agreeing to act like a happily soon-to-be married couple in public.
Her attachment to her mother is a shock to me. I’m surprised between the Parisi blood flowing through her veins and growing up with Lorenzo as a father she can feel anything other than hate. It’s another reminder of how opposite we are. She was raised by a monster, trapped in hell. Her chosen name represents a new, happy life.
I grew up in a loving home, then hell was brought down on me. My name change reflects the hardness of my heart. No, there is no heart left within me. It’s buried deep alongside my family.
Gia wants to put the past behind her and carry on as if life is a fictional movie, while I can’t bury it. Revenge is my only focus.
With Gia’s cooperation, I’m ahead of schedule, which enabled me to rearrange my meetings so I could fly into the city yesterday morning. I touch my pocket, making sure my purchase is still there. My suit is slightly rumpled from where she’d fisted it during her orgasm. There’s a spare suit in the bedroom closet on my plane, but I rather enjoy seeing the evidence of her orgasm on me.
Next time it will be on my mouth.
I may not have intended to take our fake marriage this far, but now that we’ve crossed the line, I won’t be holding back. I’ll give her tonight, and tomorrow she’ll be performing her wifely duties. Besides, it was her idea to write that stupid stipulation into our marriage contract.
I had no intentions of sleeping with her when I set this plan in motion. She’d be cared for and have free reign of the estate. I’ve never craved to have a woman by my side, in my bed. I haven’t needed or wanted a companion.
Until Gia.
“You’re sure Lorenzo and his men aren’t in town?” Gia asks, the vulnerability in her voice softening my hardened heart.
Hell. Romantic comedies, unreciprocated orgasms, and now a softening heart? This is why I don’t have relationships and never plan to marry for real. If I could end Lorenzo’s empire without marrying Gia, I would. But this is the only way. I need her connections.
“I can’t promise that men on his payroll won’t be at the restaurant.” I’m counting on some being there so they can send word to their boss that his daughter has been found. By Stone Parlatore. “I can promise you Lorenzo won’t be there.”
“Or Antonio?” she asks in a quieter voice.
She’s only mentioned him once before. The fear in her eyes when she asks about her father matches the fear when she says Antonio’s name. Other than an arranged marriage between the two, and the fifteen-year age gap, I don’t know much else about what went on between the two.
Had they been lovers—forced or willing—before she ran away? Willing, I doubt, or she wouldn’t have run. The few encounters I’ve had with him have been hostile. The man is a narcissistic asshole. Granted, many say the same about me. I don’t have the depth of his and Parisi’s evil in me though.
“He’s in Madrid as well.” Making deals with the devil.
“You won’t...” She turns in her seat, the slit in her dress opening to reveal a long, tanned leg. “You won’t leave me there alone?”
She is truly scared. Cazzo. I need her to appear happy and confident in her decision to marry me or Lorenzo will find a loophole in the contract. I need her to relax. To be the snarky, sassy Gia from last night.
“I’m more concerned about you running off on me. You have the reputation.”
“Where would I run to?” She crosses her arms, the motion lifting her breasts.
Her cleavage is magnificent. Real. Soft. Not fake and plastic. “I wouldn’t put it past you to sweet talk my pilot in bringing you back to the yacht. You seemed to enjoy the ride.”
Her cheeks turn pink, and she flips her hair to the side, blocking my view of her face. Okay, so talking about her orgasm isn’t a way to make her relax. Ironic since orgasms are the only thing that help me unwind.
“Would you like another glass of champagne?” I lift the bottle that is chilling in a bucket by my side.
“Trying to get me drunk, are you?”
“If anything, I’d think you’d want to get me drunk so you could take advantage of me.”