by Marian Tee
“It’s why all the women want me, my Lane. It’s why,” he purred, “you want me.” His voice lowered. “But lucky you, you’re the only one who has me in your bed.”
Her toes curled hard at his words, but she managed to say, “In your heart, too.” And even as she could feel her face heating up, she teased, “I’m t-the only one in your heart.”
Pause.
Then Angelo said finally, “I didn’t expect you to say that.”
Her eyes widened. Was that awkwardness she heard in his voice? “Are you…embarrassed?” And as soon as she said it, she knew it was true, and she couldn’t help bursting into a peal of giggles.
“Getting ahead of yourself, are you, my Lane?” Even though his tone was exasperated, she could hear the smile in his voice, too, and the sound was enough to keep her toes permanently curled.
“I was about to tell you I was only kidding about the condoms,” he drawled.
Wait! What? She sat up straight. “Angelo—”
“But I changed my mind.”
She squeaked in protest. “Angelo, I—”
“Buy the largest size you can find, my Lane. Choose a flavor you like.”
She stammered, “But I’ve never—”
“Don’t even think of coming to the office without them.”
Click.
Angelo had ended the call.
She collapsed on her seat. Oh my gosh, he was such a sadist! How could he even make her—
“Is everything alright, signorina?” Umberto asked from the driver’s seat.
“Umm…” She cleared her throat. “Could we, err, stop by at a 7-11?”
****
The hours she spent in Angelo’s workplace were even worse, in the most sadistic sense. The moment she arrived, he had called her to his office immediately, and his first words were, “Have you bought it, my Lane?”
And when she had nodded, he had murmured those two words that she hated and loved.
“Good girl.”
Well, okay, she loved them more than she hated it.
Angelo had made her kneel on the carpet and put the condom on his cock. It had taken Lane several attempts because she had felt so embarrassed, with sunlight still shining brightly outside the panoramic windows of his suite and with all of his executives just outside the door.
But all her worries had faded the moment he had his cock inside her already throbbing flesh.
“I’m going to make this very quick,” he had whispered.
And he had.
It was a wild and rough tumble, his fingers freeing her hair from its bun, his lips making a mess of her lipstick.
By the time she left his office, she had given up fixing her hair or her makeup, and she could only pretend she didn’t notice the way everyone gaped at her appearance.
Behind her, she heard Angelo’s male secretary gasp, “What happened here, signor?” and almost tripped. Angelo had cleared his desk with one careless sweep of his hand, causing pens and papers and paperweights to scatter on the floor. It had made her shriek, but he had been uncaring, his only thought to have her flat on the desk. And when he had her legs up and he was sliding his cock back inside her, she, too, had forgotten about it…
Until now.
Lane quickened her steps.
Oh gosh, why did the elevator feel so far—
“Ms. Petersen!” It was the receptionist, and when Lane turned to her, she saw the girl holding the receiver to her ear. “Mr. Valencia just called. You are to report back to his office.” At Lane’s surprised look, the receptionist continued almost apologetically, “Right this minute, Ms. Petersen.”
And so back she went, head bowed, and when she knocked on his door, Angelo called out, “Come in, my Lane.”
Naturally, everyone heard him, and Lane cringed at the way the male executives coughed and their secretaries gasped.
She hurried inside, asking, “What is—”
“Close the door, tesoro.”
Oh. Right. She whirled back, closed the door, and when she turned to face Angelo again, he was right in front of her. She gasped…and then she gasped again as he stalked forward, forcing her to back away until her back hit the door with a thud. “Why,” she asked breathlessly, “did you ask for me—oomph!”
His kiss forced her brain to an untimely nap while her body took over.
When he lifted his head, he murmured wickedly, “That’s it, Ms. Petersen.”
She blinked at him.
He stepped away. “You may go now.”
Her jaw dropped. “Oh my gosh, that’s the only reason you made me—”
He raised a brow. “Are you implying my kiss is unimportant?”
“No,” she denied right away. “But you know what I mean. Everyone was staring and—” She saw the smirk on his lips and gave up. Of course he knew what she meant, and of course that was all part of the plan.
“Sadist.”
“Masochist.”
She watched him walk back to his seat, with not a strand of hair out of place even though he had made both of them come in three minutes flat. Gorgeous, sexy, sadistic, and he was…hers.
He took his seat, and the moment he did, it was like seeing Angelo transform into a stranger, a powerful CEO that even now made her swallow nervously.
“I’ll go now,” she mumbled.
“Ms. Petersen?” Angelo murmured just as she turned away.
She turned to him, thinking he would tell her something work-related because of the way he addressed her.
But instead, all he said was, “I love you.”
Oh.
She opened her mouth to answer, but he frowned. “Please refrain from saying anything personal in nature.”
She closed her mouth.
He gestured to the door. “You may leave now.”
It was only when she had stepped inside the elevator did she realize he had not wanted her to see his reaction if she told him ‘I love you’ back.
The memory made Lane roll her eyes as she leaned back against the seat. Angelo had ordered her to go home ahead of him, and now she wished she had found the courage to defy him. She missed him so much.
She took a bottle of tea from the cooler, the knowledge that it came from Angelo making her feel just a bit closer to him.
She took a sip then closed her eyes and let the memories warm her.
Sadist.
But her heart thrilled to the word.
He was such a sadist, but she knew that at the end of the day, she would never ever trade him for the world.
Not even when the world wanted her to.
When she woke up, they were home, and the thought made her lips curve.
Home.
Wherever Angelo was, that was home now.
She stepped out of the car.
And froze.
Her entire family was waiting by the front door, and one look at their faces told Lane that they knew everything about her and Angelo.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Signor Valencia, Attorney Morgan here.”
Angelo didn’t answer right away, making sure to double check with security that Lane had indeed left the premises before telling the receptionist to allow his lawyer in.
“Sit down, Graham.”
The lawyer nervously took a seat.
Ah.
He only had to read the expressions on the lawyer’s face to know that the worst happened, and Angelo inhaled heavily. He didn’t care how things would impact him, but he did care about how it would those people whose only crime were to allow someone like him in their lives.
“Give it to me straight,” he said quietly.
Graham swallowed. “Signor Valencia, I am sorry. We were too late.” The attorney didn’t quite know where to look as he delivered his report. He knew his words were probably like a death knell to Angelo Valencia’s ears and could only hope that the Italian tycoon wasn’t the type to kill bearers of bad news.
Graham was good – damn good – at his job, but w
hen one was up against a psycho – and his boss’ ex-lover was certainly one – it would always be like fighting a losing battle. The woman hadn’t cared about the legal implications of her actions, hadn’t cared that she would be heavily fined and sent behind bars.
All she had cared about was getting revenge, and that was exactly what had happened, Graham reflected grimly.
Every appalling detail of Anthony Carras’ sexual deprivation revealed to the media, together with lurid revelations about Angelo’s sexual preferences.
Margarita had made his employer sound like a deviant, a monster, and because Angelo Valencia wasn’t saying a thing to contradict it, Graham knew that it would soon be the whole world against him. It was always like that, he thought cynically, with people more inclined to gobble up gossip as truth rather than wait for facts.
“Graham.”
The attorney straightened, expecting the young tycoon to ask about the potential cost of damages or discuss potential strategies to mitigate the P.R. disaster he was unfortunately embroiled in—
“How long before the media discovers the connection between my uncle and…Jaike Christopoulos?”
Ah. Graham mentally nodded to himself. He should have known his employer would be most concerned about that. It was a well-known fact that Derek Christopoulos’ wife also happened to be Angelo Valencia’s former fiancée…and first great love.
“My staff is hard at work blocking all possible trails that could reveal Mrs. Christopoulos’ involvement, but…” He cleared his throat. “Secrets like this are near impossible to bury at this point, signor. I would say, we may have at least until tomorrow, but after that…” He trailed off, knowing he didn’t have to specify all the worst-case scenarios that could result.
A long time after his attorney had left, Angelo remained in his office, silent as he brooded on what his next move would be.
Finally, he made a call.
Lane picked up immediately. “H-hey. I was just about to call you and—”
She started to say something more, but he cut her off, saying grimly, “I need you to listen to me carefully, tesoro.”
Lane immediately quieted.
“Margarita has gone to the press, and anytime tonight news will come out about my uncle and his history as a sexual predator.”
Silence.
“There will also be revelations about my own…inclinations.”
He waited tensely for Lane to show her distress, waited her to ask what was happening or why, but when she finally spoke, Lane’s words were nothing he could ever expect.
“I’m sorry, Angelo.”
He could hear the truth in her shaken voice, knew that somehow she actually believed she was the cause for all of this.
“I wish I had known how to avoid her, and maybe—”
He grated out, “Stop.”
Love threatened to choke Angelo, and he had to struggle to breathe.
Lane had the right to accuse him of possibly ruining her life, but all she was thinking about, all she was worrying about—
Was him.
“There is nothing for you to apologize for, tesoro.” His voice was fierce. “Nothing. This is all my fault—”
“You’re not at fault—”
“It is,” he interrupted flatly, “if only for the fact that I was the one who chose to have something to do with her.” Sucking his breath, he continued tersely, “In any case, the damage has been done and all I can do now is to rectify what I can.”
Pause.
“You’re going to her, aren’t you?”
Lane’s jerky tone made his chest tighten, but he also knew that lying would only make it hurt worse. And so he said quietly, “Yes.”
Silence.
“As the head of the Valencia family, it is my duty to give our apologies – to beg her forgiveness for causing her life irreparable harm for the second time.” His grip tightened on the phone as he waited for her answer.
“I s-see.”
“I hope you do.” Pain made his voice sharp, but this pain was something he felt…for Lane. He didn’t want her hurt, didn’t want her to think that he was doing this because he still had feelings for another girl.
“Tell me you understand why I’m doing this,” he gritted out. “Tell me.”
“I do.” Unshed tears clogged her voice, and the sound tore his heart.
“I love you, Lane. I love you.”
“I know.”
He closed his eyes at the painfully beautiful sound of her words. He whispered harshly, “Say you love me, too.”
“I do. You know I do. You know I always will.”
His chest felt like bursting. He felt like he was abandoning her even though he knew it wasn’t like that. It would never be like that because he loved her, only her. But Dio, why did it suddenly feel impossible to say goodbye? Why did he have a suddenly ominous feeling that to utter the word would be like cursing himself to a life of loneliness?
“Say the exact words, tesoro.”
“I love you.” Her words were broken. “I love you, Angelo Valencia.”
He ended the call.
I love you.
I love you, Lane Petersen.
But he knew he didn’t deserve to say those words right now, not until he made things right.
****
Lane slowly lowered her phone to her lap. Everyone’s eyes were on hers, obliging her to speak.
She knew what they wanted her to say, what they wanted to hear.
Angelo was coming.
Angelo was going to make them feel that they had nothing to worry about.
Angelo was going to be here for her.
But she couldn’t.
“Lane, for God’s sake, say something,” Norman demanded tersely.
She swallowed. “H-he knows about the situation.”
“Well, of course he does,” the old man exploded. “He’s the reason why this happened, and he’d have to be the greatest idiot if he didn’t know about it.” Stress was written all over his weathered face, and her pain twisted into guilt.
“I’m sorry,” Lane whispered. “I know you don’t deserve this—”
“Just tell us the truth at least,” Nellie said tightly. “You know what made us come here, what Dad’s friend told us. And you still haven’t confirmed or denied it.”
Lane tightened her hold on her phone. She had the most selfish urge to call for Angelo, but she also knew it would be the last thing she’d do.
“Answer me, Lane. Is it true? Are you his newest lover?”
Lane whitened. Nellie had never raised her voice at her. Never.
“Is he?”
She didn’t speak, knowing that even though her silence was damning, the way Norman and Nellie’s minds worked, they wouldn’t judge her or Angelo until they had absolute proof—
“Are you the lover of Angelo Valencia?” Nellie’s voice kept rising. “This man who thrives on other people’s pain—”
“No,” Lane cried out before she could stop herself.
Nellie’s face crumpled. “Oh God, Lane.”
Lane started to babble. “It’s not like what you think he is—”
“Why would you want someone like him? Why?”
“I know it’s hard to understand, but we love each other and—”
“Turn the TV on.” Ray was reading something on his phone. Looking up, he said grimly, “It’s started.” Standing up, he grabbed the remote control for himself. He went straight to the news channel, and the screen revealed a media circus, reporters trying their best to get their questions heard, and right at the center was Jaike Christopoulos, flanked by two powerful-looking men. Her husband stood on one side…and Angelo Valencia on the other.
Ah.
It hurt to see him with…the girl, no the other girl, she corrected herself fiercely. Jaike was the other girl, and she – she was the girl for him. Hadn’t he told her that?
On TV, the questions the press threw at them kept getting worse.
“
Did Angelo Valencia whip you for pleasure?”
“Did you let yourself be tortured for pleasure?”
“Do you believe this is a case of like mother, like daughter?”
“What about your new girlfriend, Signor Valencia? Does she like getting spanked?”
“Is your new lover jealous of what you had with Mrs. Christopoulos?”
“According to Margarita, Mrs. Christopoulos was your one great love. How does your girlfriend—”
Nellie snatched the remote control from Ray’s hand and switched the TV off.
“H-he’s doing his duties,” Lane heard herself say stiltedly. “Because he owes the Christopoulos family an—”
“Enough!” Norman’s harsh voice made Lane flinch. But it was nothing compared to what she saw in his eyes. She had been prepared for anger and outrage, but she was not prepared at all for the defeat in his gaze, and the sight broke her heart.
“Norman, I—”
He asked tiredly, “This is the man who loves you, Lane? This man, who chooses to be by another woman’s side?”
Oh.
She was at a loss, unable to find the right words to tell them that even though it hurt to see Angelo with another woman, she also knew it was why she loved him, knew she would not have him any other way.
The desolation in Norman’s gaze stabbed her, and she choked, “I’m sorry.”
“Not as sorry as I am, child.” The old man’s tone was bleak. “Because we love you so damn much, and that’s why we can’t understand why you’d want a man who would put his ex before you.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was almost two in the morning when Angelo came back to his house, and all he wanted to see was his Lane. Not once had she called or texted, and the knowledge that she was doing it for him had shredded his heart into pieces.
She really was his perfect match.
“Is Signorina Lane still awake?” he asked Fico, who was stationed at the front door.
“She’s in the living room, sir.” Fico paused.
Angelo raised a brow.
“Her family is with her.”