I wasn’t ready to call it a day yet when we got back to the office building and neither was Braxton. Fast forward a few minutes, and that’s how I ended up standing in the middle of his corner office with my jaw on the floor and staring out over the city.
“I can’t get over this view.”
Braxton grins, placing a finger under my chin and helping me close my mouth, then he wraps his arms around my middle and pulls me back into him. “It’s one of the reasons I bought the building. The view on the first several floors is shit but once you clear the buildings…it’s incredible. And it’s the same thing all around. The other side of the building is the same unobstructed view.”
“It must look amazing at night with all the lights of the city.”
“Hmm,” Braxton hums, his chest vibrating against my back as he licks up my neck. “You know what else would look amazing?”
I giggle, knowing exactly where he’s going with this. “What’s that?”
He nips at my ear. “You bent over my desk.” He groans when I push my ass back into his crotch.
“Can anyone see us up here?”
Braxton’s lips trail fiery kisses down my neck and I shudder. “We can see out, but no one can see in,” he says, moving my hair over one shoulder to give himself better access as he continues kissing along my shoulder.
“Is the door locked?”
Shivers race down my body when I feel his lips quirk in a smile against my heated skin. “No, so you’ll have to be extra quiet. Think you can manage that, Mia Bella?”
Turning in his arms, I hook one hand around his nape bringing his mouth down on mine while my other hand cups the hard bulge behind his zipper.
“Baby, it’s you who has to be quiet,” I whisper against his lips. “Think you can manage that?” I smirk as I fight to undo his belt buckle and unzip his pants.
“Boss, we got a problem.” His office door flies open and I want to curse the day he ever met the two men standing in the door way.
Braxton blows out a hard breath, redoing his pants before turning toward the imposing figures. “That’s the second fucking time, Alessandro,” he growls.
I want to rip a strip into them too but then I catch a glimpse of Alessandro and Gio’s hands. The same hands they’re trying desperately to hide behind their backs or under crossed arms when they realize that Braxton is not alone.
“Is that blood? Why is there blood on your hands?”
Out of the corner of my eye I see Braxton turn to stone, his gaze taking in everything in front of him. I try to squint to get a better look because, yup, there’s tiny splatters of blood on both their shirts as well.
What the hell?
Two sets of eyes, one grey and one dark, ping pong between me and Braxton before settling on him as if looking to him for answers.
“I’d hate to see the other fucker,” Braxton says, his calm voice contradicting the stillness to his body.
Gio grins as Alessandro shrugs. “Fucker thought he had the jump on us. He wanted a fight, he got one.”
“Fight? The two of you got into a fight?” I take several steps forward in my resolve to check them out, to make sure they’re okay, but they both take a synchronized step back like they’ve practiced this dance many times before.
“It’s nothing, baby girl. We’re fine. Just some idiots wanting to prove something.” Alessandro smiles reassuringly, but it’s a lie. I’ve been around the two of them long enough over the last several weeks to tell when they’re lying, or trying to protect me from the truth.
I’m not some fragile thing though, dammit. I don’t need protecting from the truth. I whirl on Braxton, ready to tell them as much, but am stunned he’s standing right behind me catching me off guard.
“Pete is downstairs waiting to take you back to your apartment. I’ll see you after your class, Mia Bella.” His strong arms pull me into me as he places a soft kiss to my forehead and I melt a little inside. All the fight leaves me when I’m surrounded by Braxton.
One Week later
STEPPING OFF THE elevator on my floor, I dig around the bottom of my purse for my keys and stop short when black dress shoes appear in my line of sight. My lips automatically tipping in a smile because I know those dress shoes. They’re the same ones that have met me here after each of my classes the last week.
Braxton.
“Hey, babe.” I reach up on my tiptoes to place a kiss on his lips, and then unlock the door, stepping aside to let him in.
He takes off his suit jacket and tie as soon as he enters the quiet apartment, dropping them on the back of the couch and unbuttoning the top buttons of his dress shirt as he makes his way to the kitchen.
This is a new side of him I haven’t seen before. I’m not used to this quiet, pensive version standing in front of me pouring us two glasses of my favorite wine.
Braxton replaces the wine in the fridge, his eyes downcast when he turns around, and without a word downs his entire glass of the sweet white wine.
“Brax?”
I gasp when he finally looks up, the weight of his dark gaze trained on me when he rounds the counter separating us and pulls me into him. One hand pressed into my lower back anchoring me to him while his other snakes under my hair, gripping my nape, his lips descending onto mine.
This kiss is nothing like we’ve shared before. It’s not primal, it’s not hungry, it’s not owning. It’s sweet, lazy, explorative. A sob escapes me at the realization of what this might mean, but Braxton doesn’t let me go when I try leaning away and breaking the kiss. The hand on my lower back presses me closer, the hand around my nape holding me in place while he kisses me, and I feel it down to my very soul.
He kisses down my jaw while I continue to sob, my hands fisting his shirt in a silent plea. He picks me up, my legs wrapping around his waist, and carries me back into my room. Closing and locking the door behind us, all the while continuing to place openmouthed kisses down my neck and along my collarbone.
Braxton takes his time undressing me. Kissing each inch of skin as the fabric of my clothes pass over it. I return the favor when he has me completely naked. His body is a like a work of art sculpted from the finest clay.
His eyes squeeze shut and he swallows hard when my lips wrap around the head of his cock sucking him down my throat.
“Shit,” he hisses when his cock hits the back of my throat over and over again. If this is supposed to be goodbye, then I’m going to make sure he doesn’t forget a second of it.
Braxton pulls me up, throwing me down on the bed. I slide further up the bed until his hands wrap around my ankles stop my retreat. His head dips between my legs, that tongue I love so much bringing me to the edge, but not allowing me to tumble over.
When he crawls up the rest of my body, I see the pain he’s trying to mask behind his eyes. The regret.
“Brax, you okay?” I ask, framing his face in my hands. It’s a stupid question. I know this, and yet it’s the only one I can think of to ask in this moment.
He dips his chin in a slight nod, placing a kiss on the tip of my nose. “Need to lose myself in you tonight, Mia Bella. Need to feel you surround me.”
He kisses my forehead, my closed lids, my tear-stained cheeks. He continues to rain little kisses all over my body as he pushes into me. There are no spankings, no demands, no roughness tonight. Tonight, Braxton De Luca makes love to me like it’ll be the last time. Tonight, his fingers and tongue trace over every dip, every curve of my skin like he’s trying to memorize the way I look, the way I feel beneath him.
And when he finally brings me to the brink, it’s by staring into his onyx eyes and wishing with all hope that this isn’t how we end.
“Don’t want this evil life to touch you, Mia Bella. Please forgive me,” was all I heard as my eyes drooped closed and I drifted off to sleep.
***
I was surprised when I woke up this morning and he was still lying next to me, his fingers drawing lazy circles on my naked back. I fully expected hi
m to be long gone by the time morning rolled around. What threw me for even more of a loop was when he told me to come by the office and have lunch with him today. Last night was almost too perfect. Almost too thought out by him, and my head already knows what my heart refuses to accept. That Braxton made love to me because it’s his way of saying goodbye.
For good this time.
That theory was confirmed when I walk into his office for our lunch date. I push through the heavy door and stop dead in my tracks. My jaw drops in disbelief. I should turn around and run, I should scream, cry, ask him why he chose to end it this way instead of just leaving last night. But all I can think of… all that plays through my mind is me grabbing a hold of the bitch’s hair and pounding her head into the glass desk she’s currently bent over. I want to smash her face in until the only possible outcome is plastic surgery. I want to rip out her fake blonde extensions and feed them to her. I want to take a pair of metal pliers to her fake fingernails and rip them off one by one.
But like a deer in headlights, the only thing I do is stare at the scene unfolding in front of me. Well… the scene Braxton wants me to see. I’m not naïve, I know he set this all up so I would walk in at this exact moment and catch him in the act. So I would be the one to end it, because after all, he did promise me he wouldn’t be the one to call a quits again.
What he hadn’t been banking on, I’m guessing, is that I would see through it all. I would see the pain and regret in his eyes as he wraps his fist around her hair, just like he did mine, as he lowers his zipper and gets ready to enter her.
I won’t give him the dignity of watching me crumble though. Taking a deep breath, I square my shoulders, lift my chin, and try valiantly to not let the tears fall. I lock eyes with the bitch bent over in front of him and smirk.
“Oh, honey, at least get yourself a real man.” I’m surprised when my voice comes out sounding strong, even to my own ears, and then, when I feel like I have a lock on my emotions, I allow my stare to travel up to Braxton’s to make sure my words hit their mark like I had hoped.
Braxton flinches. It’s small but it is there. Taking one last strengthening breath, I turn and walk out of his office, holding my head up the entire way to the elevator, down to the parking garage and my car.
Then and only then do I let myself break.
Fingers curled around the steering wheel, head back against the headrest of the driver’s seat, hot tears spill down my cheeks, and despite trying like hell to not let it, I feel the crack in my heart get bigger, until it shatters. The shitty thing in all of this is that despite having just broken my fucking heart, I still love the bastard.
That’s okay though, because there is a fine line between love and hate, and as I wipe away the last of my tears, it’s only a matter of time before one extreme becomes the other.
One Year Later
“YOU HAVE TO stop moping, Klara. It’s been a year since Braxton. You need to get out there again.” Dri plops herself down on the sofa next to me. Her already short shorts riding up even higher.
“As much as I hate to agree with anything Adrienne says, I have to agree with her on this one. “It’s time, Klara.” I scoot over closer to Dri so that Rick can join us on the couch.
“It hasn’t been that long,” I scoff, crossing my arms under my chest knowing that they’re probably right.
“It’s been twelve months, hun.” Dri rubs my back.
Okay, so maybe it has been that long, but I’m allowed to mope, aren’t I? I mean, I did catch my – ugh, I don’t even know what to call him—fucking some other chick in his office when we were supposed to be going for a lunch date.
“Look, Klara. We gave you six months, but when you still weren’t over the prick we figured maybe you felt a little more for him than you were letting on, so we gave it more time to see if you would pull through it on your own. But enough is enough,” Rick deadpans, glaring at me from over the rim of his beer bottle.
“And I did,” I protest, not liking the fact that I seem to be outnumbered right now.
“No, babe, you didn’t. You’re just going through the motions. Work. Gym. And repeat. You haven’t been out with us in a year, and you missed the Superbowl in Feb.”
“Wait, what?” I turn to look at Rick. “I did? I missed the Superbowl? Who played? Who won?”
“See.” Dri shakes her head. “This is what I mean. Before Braxton football was your life. You never missed a regular season game, let alone the Superbowl. You’re not living, Klara. You’re just existing.”
Slumping back against the sofa, I sigh reaching for Dri’s hand while laying my head on Rick’s shoulder. “I thought I was doing okay. I thought I was holding it together. We weren’t even together that long, for Christ’s sake. Why is this so much harder?”
Dri snuggles in closer, resting her head on my shoulder, our hands still clasped together. “You know why,” she sighs.
I did. Because I was in love with him. They would like to think it was just because I gave him my virginity, and maybe that was part of it. But I let myself get consumed by Braxton De Luca. I let him into my heart, even knowing that he had the potential to break it beyond repair.
I let out a shaky breath not wanting to argue with my two best friends at this moment. “I missed my birthday too, didn’t I? And both of yours?”
They both nod, and I feel like the biggest fake friend. Rick leans the side of his head against mine, taking my other hand in his. “It’s okay. You were hurting and we understood. But no more, Klara. I’m not going to stand by and watch while De Luca takes up more rent in that head of yours than he already has.”
They’re right, of course, but that doesn’t make me any more eager to move on. If I was being honest with myself, I was hoping Braxton would come back. That he would realize he made a big mistake and would apologize profusely, beg me to take him back, and I would. Pathetic, huh? But entertaining that thought was easier than envisioning him with someone else. I wanted to be the one he came to for comfort at the end of a long day. I wanted to be the one who fell asleep in his arms, who got to enjoy his body. I wanted to be the one his eyes light up for. Not only am I pathetic, pining over a man who’s probably already forgotten about me, but now I already hate the woman getting to hold him at night.
I glance up at Rick and then over at Dri. I can’t put them through my mood swings any longer. If I don’t want to move on for myself then I at least have to try for them.
“Okay.” I give Dri’s hand a squeeze and paste a smile on my face. “Set me up on one of those blind dates I know you’ve been dying to.”
Her eyes round in shock when she sits up again, and I can’t help the giggle that bubbles up because she looks like a cartoon character. “Are you serious right now? Don’t play with me, Klara,” she warns, but I see the gleam of hope in her eyes.
I nod, extracting myself from Rick. “I’m not playing. Do it. Set it up, Dri.”
Adrienne fist pumps the air as she jumps up from the sofa and races to her room to presumably grab her laptop, or her phone, or whatever it is she does to set up these blind dates. Rick laughs to my side, the deep timber of his voice reverberating through my arm.
“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I? Letting her set me up?”
Rick laughs harder, ruffling my hair as he gets up to replace his empty beer with a new one. “Have fun with that one,” he calls over his shoulder. Our apartment door closes behind him as he retreats to his own apartment downstairs.
***
I’m going to kill my best friend. She’s dead. Dead.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mumble under my breath, willing myself to wake up from this nightmare. All the while, the driver’s side door to the white sports car opens up—yes, up. Not out, because why wouldn’t he flaunt his money at every possible opportunity—and out steps Mike Davis, because the universe couldn’t be any crueler to me.
“You’re my date? Adrienne set me up with you?” I bark, then insistently
wince at the tone of my voice.
“Well, hello to you, too, stranger.” He chuckles, holding open the door to the restaurant for me and ushering me inside.
“Is this some sick joke? I thought you were living in BC, working for the RCMP over there?”
Mike gives the hostess our name and we both watch as she goes to check if our table is ready. I must admit that he picked an excellent restaurant. They’re known for their steak here, and if Mike’s buying then I’m ordering a surf and turf.
“I do. I was just passing through on my way home from Europe when Dri texted.”
Fucking Adrienne. She couldn’t have waited one day. One day and Mike would’ve been on his way home to the other side of the country.
“You don’t look so happy to see me, Gigs.” He grins, ordering us two whiskeys, one on the rocks, from our waitress.
“Don’t call me that.” I glare at him, shifting uncomfortably in my seat.
I didn’t have to come inside and sit down. I knew that I could’ve walked away the second I realized who Adrienne set me up with, but the thought of a free meal at his expense was just too tempting. Mike and I have a lot of history. A lot. Some of it was good, most of it not so much.
“You used to love when I called you that,” he says, talking a sip of the drink our waitress just delivered to the table.
“I was a naïve teenager, and you were—”
“The bad boy you used to piss off your parents,” he concludes, and I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat.
Like I said, Mike and I have a lot of history. We were always skirting the boundaries, but never breeching them. Always playing with fire and hoping we never got burned. Until I did, and he left. Story of my fucking life. Silence envelopes us as we sit staring at each other, waiting for our food to arrive.
Dark Desire (Famiglia Book 1) Page 9