by Bethany-Kris
“The physical side of a relationship is probably the easiest thing for him to deal with, if I’m being honest. He can compartmentalize and comprehend all the whys I want to fuck you, doesn’t see a problem, and because of that, doesn’t care. It’s not the real issue.”
“Seems strange. I would imagine that part of this would be the hardest to deal with.”
“Not for him, or me.” Corrado shrugged one shoulder, pulled the blankets back, and slipped into the bed as he said, “It’s not about the sex, and it doesn’t matter how much you think it is, it won’t change that he doesn’t give a shit.”
“He told me about where he came from, his mom, and stuff. After you left earlier, I mean.”
Corrado made a noise under his breath, dark and irritated. Over what, though, she didn’t have a clue. It could have been something hurt Alessio, or that they had a conversation. Because frankly, Alessio was right.
This man was shit at communication.
He needed to work on it.
“Stem it back to that,” Corrado said, gesturing between them, “for this, huh? You want to understand what his problem is here—it’s that. It’s about being vulnerable to someone else for Alessio, him giving something willingly when he doesn’t give it to fucking anybody.”
“Loyalty. Trust.”
“That, yeah. And I abused it, in a way.” Corrado leaned back against the headboard, using his arms crossed behind his head as a pillow while he watched her with that stare of his, so penetrating and vast. All it took was a look, too. “So, again, if you believe this is about sex, or the fact you’re in my bed might piss him off, you’re wrong. It’s not even a fraction of the problem.”
“It’s good to know, but it’s not why I came in here to talk, either.”
Corrado nodded at her. “What do you want, then?”
“I want to ask some things.”
“About?”
She shifted on her feet, tightening her hold on the blanket like it might make it easier to say the words drifting through her thoughts. Because, if she wanted to think about two men, their relationship, and her interest in both, then shouldn’t she voice those same feelings, too?
What was it her mama told her years ago?
If you suppose you’re mature enough to have sex with a man, Ginevra, then you best be ready to talk about it, too.
Right.
“How long have you been together?”
Corrado smiled a little. “Five years, or so. Almost from the day we met, but it was a shaky thing for a while.”
Huh.
“And you ... love him?”
“Even if he doesn’t want me to say it, yes.”
“Is what he told me true?”
Corrado gave her a look, murmuring, “I have no idea what he told you, Ginny.”
“That you ... share women and—”
“Yes.”
“Often?”
Corrado laughed. “I mean, not as often as you might assume. We didn’t prowl the streets every night looking for someone to take home to fuck, kitten. If it came up, then it did. We did our thing together, too, and we slept with different women alone without the other involved.”
“Sounds ... messy.”
And intriguing.
She had so many more questions about that part of Alessio and Corrado’s relationship, especially where other women came into play. But she didn’t want to mull it over right then, not that her body was giving her much of a choice. She was glad she had the blanket hanging from her arms, so Corrado wasn’t capable of seeing the way she shifted on her feet because the spot between her thighs was hot and aching for reasons she didn’t care to admit.
“And that’s what you want to keep doing with him?” she asked.
Corrado stilled on the bed, his gaze drifting from the black and gold trimmed comforter to where she still stood in the doorway. “No, not at all.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I found what I want, even if I didn’t realize I was looking for it. I don’t need to look elsewhere when it’s all right here, I need everybody else to figure it out now.”
Well ...
That only made her more confused.
“He kissed me,” she blurted. “The day he came back, I was in the library, and he kissed me.”
Corrado nodded like he already was aware. “And did you like it?”
What?
She stayed quiet.
Corrado gave her another pointed stare. “Well, did you?”
“I did.”
“Good, think about that, and what it means,” Corrado said, gesturing at her doorway to add, “And if you’re not sleeping in here tonight, then leave the door open when you leave. Good night, Ginny.”
That was it—done.
Not that it left her with any more answers.
And she still didn’t know what to do.
6.
Alessio
Are you sure you want to do this, Les?
Dare’s words from their earlier phone call drifted through Alessio’s mind as he flipped over another sheet on the contract spread out across Corrado’s desk. Placing his hands to the edge of the curved, smooth wood, he took in the words in black ink, their ramifications not lost on him should he put his name on the dotted line.
It will require Subject One to commit to four years under contract with WHICHEVER bidder wins the bid on his or her person. No circumstances will void the contract before the four-year term is up unless or until the buyer is deceased, and in which case, Subject One may be transferred to someone of the buyer’s choice, if made before passing.
Four years of his life.
Auctioned to the highest bidder.
All the skills Alessio worked to hone over the years with The League came down to a ten-page contract that laid out every detail for him so that he had no questions left to ask. Until now, his career with The League had been as an independent contractor. A choice Dare and Cree allowed him to have because of their attachment to him, and it meant a lot.
Others didn’t get the same treatment. Mostly, people came to The League knowing what their fate would be—one year of training, and then the auctions came up where very rich and dangerous people bid on the members for four-year contracts. That’s how The League’s real money got made.
Alessio never had much interest in the auctions. Working alone, or with The League’s team that Cree had made, gave him enough freedom to do whatever he wanted. Something had changed over the last year, though, and he leaned towards the auctions as the yearly date neared for them.
Hence, the contract.
And his need for a decision, considering in two months, the auctions would happen. Dare would need to get his paperwork settled and put him on the roster for potential buyers to peruse before they went into the auctions. It was typical for a buyer to settle on which member they wanted before they ever even stepped foot inside The League’s building.
“With your varied skills,” Corrado said from the doorway of the office, “you’ll cause a bidding war, likely.”
Alessio had known Corrado was standing there from the moment he entered the room even if the man hadn’t made a noise. So was their fucking life together. He wasn’t able to even consider this alone because he had to consider everything else, too.
“Yeah, possibly,” Alessio muttered, “but that’s not a bad thing. Thirty percent of the final buyer’s cost goes to me, and the rest to The League. After four years, I wouldn’t have to take another job, if I didn’t want to. I could do ... anything.”
“You have enough money to do that now.”
Another thing that wasn’t a secret between them. Alessio didn’t even hide how much fucking money he had spread across several portfolios because Corrado had details for all that shit, too.
“What do you want?” Alessio asked.
“To know if you will sign that and go up on the auctions.”
“Considering it.”
“I don’t want you to do it,” C
orrado said.
Alessio’s shoulders tightened at that. “I’ve been saying for a year I wanted to do this, Corrado. It shouldn’t be a surprise now that I have the contract in front of me. If you had an issue with it, then you should have said something months ago. Not now.”
“Months ago I would let you do whatever you wanted to make this better for you. And sometimes, that meant you running away from me, right? Fucking off to work, or staying away from me because you didn’t want to deal with the shit you didn’t like at home.”
“Where in the fuck do you—”
Alessio turned to tell Corrado to go fuck himself, but stopped when he realized the man had crossed the office to stand right beside him. With Corrado this close, there was no mistaking that look in his eye.
That glint.
He wasn’t hiding shit.
It was all on the table, now.
“You only want to do this to get away from me,” Corrado said, not pulling any punches with each word he threw at Alessio, “the same way you take extra jobs, run with the second team when Cree allows it ... you have to keep running away, Les, because you’re scared of what might happen when I catch up to you—when this shit between us comes to a head, right?”
Alessio straightened to his full height, realizing his pride could sometimes be just as much of a bitch as Corrado’s. “Or I want something different, yeah? Not everything is about you, Corrado, even if you want to make it that way.”
Low blow, Les.
He knew it.
That was the thing, though, if Corrado wanted to say shit that hurt Alessio, then the man better be damn ready to have it thrown right back at him, too. Alessio no longer understood how to survive the mess they’d created together, otherwise.
Was it healthy?
Not at all.
Not that it mattered.
The words were out there, now.
He blamed his attitude and mood on the fact he had been tiptoeing around Corrado for almost a week and a half. Shit was always better, and far easier, between the two of them when they were together, and close. Sure, those issues still existed, but at least he was able to tuck them away when they had each other to focus on.
Right now, they were focusing on the wrong shit.
Or it was right.
It just wasn’t easy.
Corrado didn’t seem bothered by Alessio’s words. He came back stronger for the second round, saying, “It’s true, you didn’t want all of this—our problems, the shit you weren’t getting from me—to come to a head, either, because you’re terrified of what might come after. So, you keep busy, you keep running ... it keeps a distance between you and me, yeah. But then, you come back, and we have two weeks together.”
He let out a bitter laugh, so fucking dark and hurtful, adding, “But then we’re too busy focusing on being together, Alessio, because neither one of us like being apart, instead of all the shit that weighs us down. That’s why you want to do it.”
Fuck.
More than anything, Alessio wanted to deny what Corrado said to him. He wanted to tell him to shove his fucking assumptions up his ass and get out of his face. Except he couldn’t say any of that shit at all, even if he was mad—and Christ, he was so mad—because Corrado wasn’t wrong.
Nothing he said was a lie.
“You want to do the auctions because you need a new way to run, instead of staying here and handling the issues we’ve unpacked from the baggage we’ve been carrying for five fucking years,” Corrado uttered. “If you can do it to me, then the least you can do is say it, too. Just admit it.”
God.
Alessio dragged in a lungful of air that burned all the way in. “And if we didn’t have all this shit going on if we were good, Corrado ... then what would you say about these auctions, and me going up for a buyer?”
Because that mattered, too.
“I would still ask you not to do it.”
Alessio’s jaw ached from how hard he was clenching his teeth. “Why?”
“Because they won’t give a fuck about you. You will be a tool, something for them to use. They will tell you where to go, and what to do. They will determine your worth, and the value of your life, by how valuable you are to them. You might die because someone figured you were just collateral, and that contract says it doesn’t matter.”
“Corrado—”
“That contract says someone can take you from me, and there’s not a fucking thing I will be able to do about it because you signed your goddamn name on it. And right now, the only reason you want to take that risk is because as much as you like to throw my bullshit at my feet, you’re still not ready to deal with your own.”
Why did he have to be like that?
Why did he have to be right?
“Okay?” Corrado asked. “Was that what you wanted me to say? Because fuck knows you still won’t let me tell you I love—”
Alessio’s hand hit the papers on the desk, sending them scattering everywhere. He didn’t let Corrado finish his statement before he spun on his heels and left the office without a look over his shoulder.
No, Corrado didn’t get to say those words.
Not yet.
They still struck like a fucking weapon.
Alessio wasn’t ready for the impact.
• • •
The music filtering out of the tiny speaker on the middle of the kitchen island had Ginevra dancing to the beat, a wooden spoon swaying with the rest of her body in her grip. She didn’t seem to care at all that Alessio sat at the right side of the island, a thriller opened in front of him, while she cooked and danced.
In fact, she barely paid him any mind at all.
He was sure Corrado had found the speaker for her and let her steal his phone for the massive music playlist he kept on the damn thing. Not that he cared to ask at the moment, because despite how interesting his book actually was, Alessio was far more concerned with watching Ginevra.
A curious thing.
Smart, and quick.
She didn’t miss a beat.
Innocent, but sinful.
Sly, but sweet.
He found it odd he was able to sit down and have an intellectual conversation with her about things that no one else ever wanted to talk about—like his appreciation of the written word. She calmed his constant, excessive energy, and brought him back down to earth with nothing more than a conversation. On the flip side of that coin, he watched her handle an uptight and stiff Corrado, and make him more playful than Alessio had ever seen.
He had yet to grasp how to deal with it. Unlike everything else, compartmentalizing this woman was impossible. It was how Alessio liked to deal with anything in his life. Things fit in neat little boxes inside his mind, and he handled them accordingly.
Ginevra was not the same.
At all.
There were too many facets to her personality, and he couldn’t unveil them all before another one came along to make him do a double-take of her yet again. He was still trying to find that thing in this woman that had made Corrado change the landscape of their relationship, but the longer he searched for it, the more Alessio realized something else.
He liked Ginevra.
Finding the parts of her that had Corrado spun up in the woman became almost insignificant when suddenly, Alessio had his own interests in her.
And that was a goddamn problem.
He didn’t ask for that.
None of it.
“Want to try it?”
Alessio blinked to find Ginevra had stopped dancing and came to stand on the other side of the island from where he sat. On the wooden spoon in her hand, a red sauce coated the concave tip. A rich red, and smelling like spices, his mouth watered as she held it out like it was a treat she might tease him with.
That cunning smile on her lips said the same.
“Well?”
“Who taught you to cook, hmm?” he asked.
Ginevra grinned. “My Mama.”
“Oh?”
“She worked a lot, so I had to look after my little sisters. They didn’t like things that came from a box when our mom wouldn’t dare feed them something like that, so I had to learn how to make them what they liked.”
“And you liked that.”
She arched a brow. “What do you mean?”
“Taking care of your sisters.”
He didn’t miss the way her throat jumped, or how a sadness dimmed her eyes. “Of course, I did. I love them, Les.”
“You haven’t seen them in a while, huh?”
“Too long. I don’t like to think about it. There’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t talk to them, they can’t be told where I am, so ... I don’t bother.”
Yeah, he could tell.
The emotion in her eyes, and the thickness in her tone, that made him lean forward to take her sauce. Perhaps then, she would go back to smiling and dancing, and his chest wouldn’t feel like a fucking elephant was sitting on it because she was sad.
Yeah, fuck.
He didn’t ask for this.
Alessio shouldn’t have any emotion for this woman.
Yet, he did.
More and more each day.
He did.
That would be a problem.
Alessio took the sauce on the tip of the wooden spoon Ginevra held out to him, surprised at the richness and varying notes that glided across his palate from just one taste. Leaning back on the stool, he nodded.
“It’s good.”
She gave him a look. “Just good?”
One breath in.
Another breath out.
He had to remind himself to breathe with her, too.
“It’s wonderful,” he murmured. “Really.”
A lot like her.
And that’s enough.
Alessio liked this woman—did he need to say that again?—and he hadn’t planned for this at all. It wasn’t why he came back here, not even a thought until it stared him right in the face and laughed at him.
The universe having another joke.
He wasn’t ready for it.
He was pissed, but not at her. Ginevra hadn’t asked for this situation, and mostly, she gave him and Corrado as much space as she could to work out their issues without her stepping in. That’s why she still slept in a separate bed even though he didn’t give a fuck if Corrado was fucking her.