Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
"Coda…" Her voice is a thread.
"Shh," I soothe, running my fingertips across her cheek. "Just let me take care of you."
We drive off, leaving the relative safety of the campus for a reality where survival is the only lesson that counts.
The city blurs past us, a smear of lights and shadows as I reach over and slip my hand into hers.
"Karina, look at me," I command gently.
She obeys, her wide, watery eyes meeting mine.
"You're safe with me, cara."
"I know," she whispers, her words so faint they're almost lost beneath the engine's purr.
I hear them, though. She steals the biggest fucking piece of my heart when she whispers them.
The drive to my place is silent, the streets emptying as we enter the Gold Coast neighborhood, a more affluent part of the city. The high-rise that houses my apartment looms ahead, a stark white monolith against the night sky.
"Where are we?" she asks, her voice steadier now.
"Home," I say simply.
Her gaze flits to me, searching. Eventually, she nods.
I park in the underground garage and take the elevator up. I keep her close, one arm wrapped carefully around her. She leans into me, accepting the comfort I offer. Her presence fills the small space, a mix of vanilla and anxiety—a scent that will linger in my memory far longer than I care to admit.
Her gaze flickers to mine when she sees the locks on my door. I don't explain. There's nothing I could say that she'd understand. My world and hers are universes apart—precisely as they should be. And yet, she's here anyway.
The door to my condo finally swings open with a click. I usher her inside before turning to lock it back down. She drifts deeper into the condo.
I've spent most of my time living on-site at the Valentino compound since I was nineteen. I don't come home often, so there's little here—a white leather sofa and matching armchair, a glass coffee table, a bookshelf filled with books I never have time to read.
For once, the place doesn't feel empty. Not with Karina here.
"Make yourself comfortable, cara." I shrug off my suit jacket and toss it over the back of the chair.
She hovers by the threshold, drinking in the sterile neatness. I see the wheels turning in her head as she processes her surroundings.
"Will I be safe here?" she asks, a quiver in her voice.
"Safer than anywhere else." I stride back to her side. "No one gets in or out without my say-so."
She nods, her shoulders drooping in relief. But I see the questions in her eyes. I decide to head them off, knowing they won't lead anywhere good. I don't want to lie to her, but she isn't ready to hear the truth about who and what I am.
"What did you see tonight, cara?" I ask instead. "What has you so afraid?"
She flinches, and I curse myself. Perhaps now isn't the time for that, either. She needs comfort, not questions.
"Come on," I say, leading her to the couch. I pull her down onto my lap, holding her. "You don't owe me answers, angioletta."
"I'm sorry," she murmurs, her voice a fragile thread. "For all of this… for intruding into your life. I know you p-probably didn't mean to ever hear from me again."
I tip her head back, examining her face. "Is that what you think?"
"It's true, isn't it?"
"No, it isn't." I feather my fingers along her cheek, my eyes locked on hers. I want to protect her, yes, but more than that—I want her. Against reason, against the rules, I want her. "I've tried like hell to stay away. I should stay away. But you're all I've thought about since I watched the cab drive away, Karina." My thumb traces her full bottom lip. "I regretted letting you go. I regretted not finishing what we started."
She watches me, her eyes wide.
"Even now, when you're hurting, I'm thinking about things I shouldn't."
Her tongue skirts across her bottom lip. "L-like what?"
"Like you on your knees with my cock stuffed down your pretty little throat." I wrap gentle fingers around the column of her throat to illustrate my point. "I'm not a good man, cara." I swallow. "I'm not good for you. But you followed me out of that ballroom, and now I'm afraid I'm going to blacken your soul."
"Do it," she whimpers. "Please, Coda."
Yet again, she doesn't know what she asks. And yet again, I'm helpless to do anything except give it to her anyway. Not because of her father. Not because of my vendetta. Not for any reason other than her and the way she makes me feel.
Alive. For the first time in years, I feel alive.
I pull her down to me, brushing my lips across hers. "Mi fai sognare."
She sighs sweetly and snuggles up to me, our bodies molding together perfectly, even though they shouldn't. We're a puzzle with mismatched pieces, but for some reason, we fit together seamlessly.