by Penelope Sky
That was why I hated these events.
Publicity stunts.
I leaned against the wall, out of sight, and enjoyed my cigarette, my arms crossed and one foot planted against the wall. From the top story of the hotel, I had a prime view of Florence, the lights brilliant and beautiful. A breeze was in the air, and it licked at the sweat that formed on the back of my neck. Being separated from the herd was nice because I wouldn’t be tempted to stare at that sexy man.
The sexy man who was way out of my league.
I continued to pull the smoke into my lungs and let it drift from my nostrils. My parents had no idea I smoked, but they were aware I loved wine more than they did. With every drag of nicotine, I became calmer, tapping my finger against the tip so the ashes would fall to the floor.
My wrist relaxed as my head rested against the wall, feeling the fatigue settle into my bones when I realized it must be one in the morning by now. The crowd continued to party, but it couldn’t last much longer.
I’d only closed my eyes for a few seconds when the cigarette was ripped from my fingers.
Shit. I’d been caught.
My eyes opened and settled on the man who had stolen my attention since the moment I’d laid eyes on him.
He brought the cigarette to his lips, took a deep drag, and let the smoke drift away with the breeze. “You don’t strike me as a smoker.”
My heart raced a million miles an hour in my chest, and I lost all my confidence in the blink of an eye. This man made me so nervous, I could barely breathe, let alone think of a comeback. “Occasionally.”
“Occasionally is just as bad as regularly.”
“I don’t see why.”
“Either one takes years off your life.” He took another drag from my cigarette then looked over the edge of the balcony to the city below. The smoke lifted from his lips, and he looked so sexy standing there.
“Maybe you should take your own advice.”
He shrugged. “I don’t plan to live long.”
I extended my hand. “Can I have it back?” Even if it was just to feel the moisture of his mouth against the tip of that cigarette. It was like a dirty kiss, nicotine and smoke mixed in between.
“No.” He crushed it within his palm without wincing then threw it in the garbage can.
“That was rude.”
“I’m an asshole, so no surprise there.” He stood with his body perpendicular to mine and stared at the marvelous view from our fancy party. His hands slid into the pockets of his suit as he enjoyed the fresh air with me.
I did my best to play it cool. “Are you going to tell my father?”
“I’m not a rat.” He slowly turned his gaze back to me, his brown eyes inexplicably pretty. He seemed too handsome to be true, like Prince Charming in a fairy tale. He’d been a lot nicer inside, but now he seemed moody, off-putting. But he continued to linger there anyway…as if he wanted to be with me.
“Thanks. But you could have given me back that cigarette.”
“Trust me, I’m looking out for you.” He stepped up next to me, bringing us close together so we could drop our voices further. If someone came outside, they would see us in deep conversation and probably assume something inappropriate was happening. But no one was going to come out here at this time of night, at least, I hoped not. I’d dated guys while in school, but I’d never had a serious boyfriend. Now that I was officially an adult about to start business school at the university, I expected that to change.
Maybe it would change tonight.
“I don’t need someone to look out for me.” I kept my arms crossed over my chest and leaned against the wall, feigning indifference. But something told me this man could see right through that. “How do you know my father?”
“We do business together.” He didn’t elaborate further. Maybe he thought his job was boring and didn’t want to drone on about it.
That was unfortunate because I genuinely wanted to know. “One day, I’m going to take over for my father and run this hotel.”
“Ambitious…I like that.”
I tried to hide my smile, but the corner of my lip raised slightly.
“Nothing sexier than a woman knowing what she wants.” His voice was deep like dark chocolate. It rumbled in his throat before it emerged, sweet on the ears. This man looked beautiful, sounded beautiful…he just was beautiful.
“Do you know what you want?”
He turned his gaze toward me, his jawline hard as if it were chiseled from stone. “Yes. I take ambition a little too far.”
Bumps appeared on my arms even though it was still humid and warm. My nipples pressed against the cups of my bra, and I resisted the urge to fidget. This was the first man who had made me feel passion and lust, the kind they showed in books and movies. The other boys I’d been interested in were practically friends. This guy was…a man. “I never got your name.”
He slowly turned back to the balcony. “Hades.”
I couldn’t control the eyebrow that rose up my face. “That’s your name?”
“Yes. Not as beautiful as Sofia, but it will do.”
“Isn’t that the god of the underworld?”
“Yes, to those who believe in Greek mythology. Are you one of those people?”
“No. But it’s still an interesting name.”
He was standoffish and cold, staring at the view of the city that was practically laid at our feet. Even with his hands in his pockets, he stood perfectly straight, having a strong back and an ass that looked great in those slacks. He wore a shiny watch. “It’s a name you don’t forget easily.” He turned away and headed back to the doorway without saying goodbye.
I didn’t want him to go. He was the first interesting person I’d met at the party, and I wasn’t eager to lose my only friend…and whatever else I wanted him to be. “Going to steal more cigarettes?”
He stopped and slowly turned, a touch of amusement in his eyes. He came back toward me, taking his time because he knew I wasn’t going anywhere. “Taking cigarettes isn’t exactly a hobby.”
“Fooled me. So, will I see you around?”
His eyes shifted back and forth slightly as they looked into mine. “Do you want to see me around, Sofia?”
The way he said my name caused chills to run down my spine. Boys would make up a lie and walk away, but this was a man who got right to the point. He wasn’t afraid to confront me, to make me uncomfortable with that deep stare.
I wanted to respond with some smartass comment, but I didn’t want to play games. This man wasn’t playing games with me, so why should I play games with him? “Yes.”
A minor look of surprise came into his gaze at my honesty. His lips pressed together a bit as he continued to look at me, as if some internal argument made him clench his entire body. His eyes were open, and he hardly blinked as he stared at me. “You’re a beautiful girl, Sofia. One day, you’re going to be a gorgeous woman. Maybe then you’ll see me around.” He put me down gently, but it still hurt.
I didn’t expect anything from him, but knowing he would walk away and I would probably never see him again was a huge disappointment. The first man I’d actually felt some heat for was out of my league. “How old are you?”
He grinned, showing his natural charm. “Too old.”
I hadn’t lifted my body from the wall. So far, I’d managed to get him to stay with just my words. But eventually, he would walk away, and words wouldn’t be enough to keep him close. “And how old is too old?”
He came closer to me, his shoulder making contact with the wall. His voice lowered to a whisper. “Twenty-five.”
That meant he was seven years older than me. He had seven more years of experience, seven more years of women in his bed.
And I hadn’t taken anyone to bed.
He watched my reaction. “Like I said, too old.” He turned away, dismissing our conversation for good.
I would leave for university in Milan in a few months, so I suspected I would never see this
man again. I was a new adult who was flooded with hormones, and I wanted a real kiss, a real experience that would make me feel like a woman. This man was the first one who turned me on, who made me want to take off my clothes and get rid of my virginity. But he wouldn’t be around for that.
So I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into me. Knowing this could never be more, that this could never be anything but a secret, I put myself on the line and dug my fingers into his hair as I kissed him.
Instead of pulling away, he kissed me back. He smiled slightly against my mouth as he pressed me farther into the wall, his hard body so strong against my softness. “Alright, baby. Just one.” His hand slid into the back of my hair, and he angled my head up so he could kiss me hard. His warm breath filled my mouth, and the hard outline of his dick pressed right into my stomach. He gave me his tongue, gave me his passion.
I took it all. My hands snaked up his back, and I held him close to me, wanting to feel something real instead of the stagnant fakeness my family exuded. I didn’t have the perfect family like everyone believed. My parents didn’t love each other. Sometimes I wasn’t sure if they even loved me.
But this was real.
It was wrong, so wrong, that Hades could be shot if he got caught pressed up against me, but he kissed me like he didn’t have a care in the world. With his back turned to everything else but us, he grabbed my thigh and wrapped it around his hips, thrusting his package into the perfect spot between my legs.
Oh yes…
He stopped our kiss so he could watch my reaction, see the way I responded to the friction.
I liked it…a lot. “Ooh…”
His hand remained fisted in my hair. “Has a man ever made you come, baby?”
I was so embarrassed that I wanted to lie, but when I looked into those brown eyes, I knew I had to say nothing but the truth. “No…”
His lips moved to mine again, and he kissed me slowly, grinding up against me in the nighttime air. I could feel the wetness in my panties, and he could probably feel them against his slacks at that point. Every kiss was dynamite. Every kiss was fire. I’d never been kissed so good, never had my toes curl so hard. Was this what it always felt like? Was this the kind of heat every couple felt?
He ground harder and harder, my dress sliding up farther as he rubbed into me. He sucked my bottom lip into his mouth then gave me another thrust.
A thrust that made me so white-hot, I thought someone had set me on fire. Whimpers escaped my lips, and I wanted to scream until my lungs gave out.
He kept his mouth over mine and muffled the noise, letting me finish my climax without fear.
It was so good.
Euphoric.
God, I wanted to do that again.
He kissed me a few more times before he pulled away, slightly out of breath with tousled hair. He kept his face close to mine, his breathing deep and quiet. “You’re a virgin.” He didn’t phrase it as a question, as if he already knew the answer without asking.
I didn’t correct him.
“Can I give you some advice?”
I gave a slight nod.
“In a few years, every man in the world is going to chase you. But most men are assholes. Most men will treat you like garbage and throw you away. Don’t let them. Don’t waste your time on someone who doesn’t deserve you. You’re a beautiful woman with a powerful surname. Don’t be one of those girls who lets losers fuck her. Be that woman who only lets a king fuck her.”
“Are you a king?” I blurted, my words coming out as a whisper.
His eyes shifted back and forth as he held on to my gaze. “I am the king.”
2
Sofia
Four Years Later
I lifted my suitcase onto my old bed then opened the lid. Stacks of jeans, tops, and dresses were inside, all the things I wore while I was at university in Milan. For four years, I studied business and poetry. I learned everything I possibly could about running a business, operating a company that was ethical, that treated its employees with dignity, and how to keep a business open for decades.
My family owned a chain of hotels throughout Italy, ranging from the toe of the boot in the south all the way to the north close to Nice, France. As an only child, I was the heir to take over the family business.
I intended to make our hotels outlive our family by many generations. I was best acquainted with the hotel in Milan since I’d been studying there for the last four years, but the hotel in Florence was my favorite. I witnessed my father build it from the ground up, making his dream into a reality with such calm suavity. I never told him how proud I was of his work, and now that he was dead, I regretted it every single day of my life.
Now I was back in Florence, moving back in with my mother until I found my own footing. Living alone for the last few years had given me a taste of independence that I didn’t want to relinquish. I’d lived in a small apartment, but I’d had the freedom to eat cereal before bed, have men spend the night, and let my laundry pile up until it was a behemoth on the floor in the corner of my room. My booze and cigarettes could be enjoyed without a judgmental gaze.
My mother lived with my stepfather in the same mansion where I grew up, three stories right in the heart of the city. It wasn’t like we wouldn’t have the privacy we needed from one another.
But still, a grown woman shouldn’t be living with her mother.
I finished unpacking then went out onto the terrace on the second floor, where we had breakfast every morning in the summer before it got too hot. It was almost fall, so the temperature was somewhat diminishing. The humidity was taking a little longer.
Mother sat there, her legs crossed, a cigarette resting between her soft fingertips. She had dark brown hair just like mine, perfectly styled to maintain her beauty. She still had beautiful skin, her wrinkles hidden under all the products she used to fight the detrimental effects of aging.
With my eyebrow raised, I approached her from behind and snatched the cigarette from her poised hand. “Things have changed around here.”
She maintained her calm posture, her eyes following my movements as I took the seat beside her. A cup of coffee was on the table next to her hand, just black even though she preferred cream and sugar. “Not really. I just don’t bother to hide it anymore.”
“Smoking takes years off your life.” Anytime I felt a cigarette between my fingertips, I thought of the erotic night I’d had on a balcony four years ago. A man took it right out of my hand and tossed it away.
“I don’t care.” She opened the pack and pulled out another.
“It causes wrinkles…”
She had the cigarette in her mouth with the lighter held close to the tip. Instead of striking it with her thumb and making it burst into flame, she sighed and put everything down.
“That’s what I thought.” That was the kind of woman my mother was. She cared more about her appearance than living a long, healthy life.
“Don’t be so prissy. I’ve found your stash around the house.”
I didn’t deny it. They said mothers knew everything. They were right.
A servant brought me a cup of coffee, but I didn’t hesitate before I added cream and sugar. I liked it fattening, packed with sweetness and calories, and I didn’t give a damn about the destruction to my waistline. “I quit a few years ago.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to live past forty.”
“Now that’s an exaggeration.” Instead of reaching for her cigarettes, she grabbed her coffee and took a sip. She examined the view before us, the sun rising over the beautiful city, highlighting the green hillsides in the background. Even from miles away, the scent of grapes was always in the air. “How does it feel to be home?”
“It’s nice…”
She chuckled. “You hate it, don’t you?”
“I’m just not thrilled to be moving back in with my mother.”
“I lived with my parents until I got married.”
“But you go
t married when you were nineteen.”
She shrugged. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Soon enough, the same will happen to you.”
I didn’t have any interest in getting married. I loved my parents, but their marriage was depressing. My mother’s second marriage to my stepfather was even worse. My mother only gave herself to a man for one reason—to be taken care of. She wanted a man to handle the business, the finances, and be the alpha in the relationship.
That sounded like mindless slavery to me.
I had much bigger ambitions in life. “I’m going to work with Gustavo tomorrow. He’s gonna show me a few things about the hotel, give me a job so I can learn as much as possible.” It never made sense to me that my mother remarried and handed her position in her business to her new husband. That just seemed stupid to me.
She slowly turned to me, not even bothering to cover the disdain in her eyes. “Honey, men are supposed to work. Women make other people work for them.”
“It’s not just a random job. I want to take over the hotel business when Gustavo retires.”
“Your husband can handle that.”
I loved my mother, but her old-fashioned outlook on marriage was so archaic that she seemed senile. “Maybe that was true a hundred years ago, but things have changed. I’m perfectly capable of handling our company on my own.”
“I know you’re a bright girl with a lot of brilliant ideas. But it doesn’t matter how smart you are. It doesn’t mean you can get things done.”
My fingers rested on the top of my coffee cup, the heat reaching my skin. Even simple conversations with my mother turned into wars on a battlefield. She was so stubborn and opinionated that even mundane discussions were unbearable. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means…” She took a sip of her coffee then set it down beside her. “That no matter how hard you try, people will never respect you the way they would respect a man. They won’t listen to you or value your ideas. Anytime you delegate, they’ll assume you’re being an overbearing bitch. People will push you around and take advantage of you. That’s just the world we live in…which is why you need a powerful husband who can protect your wealth and interests.”