Page 50 of Capo

Seventeen

Luciano

I half carry, half drag a beaten and defeated Chloe across the lawn. She gives out little whimpers on each exhale, with each step, and when we get inside I reach for one of her legs and pull it up. Her partly grass and dirt covered foot is bloody, filled with little wounds and a couple of larger lacerations.

“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter and grab under her knees and back, hoisting her up against my chest. Voices from behind, barking out orders, make me spin around. Two of my guards come up to me. I turn half away so they won’t see Chloe’s face. I don’t know why I do it, but instinct tells me to keep her existence to as few people as possible.

“Boss, there was an intruder!”

I narrow my eyes. Tomorrow, I’ll have them strung up by their balls for being so fucking late.

“Everything’s in order,” I snarl. Their gazes dart between my naked body and the violently shaking blonde I’m clutching. “Get the fuck back to your duties!”

They flinch and straighten. “Yes, Boss!”

“And turn off the fucking spotlight!” I roar at their retreating backs, then I head back toward our bedroom.

Our? Mine, I mean.

Chloe’s breaths keep hitching, and she’s tense in my hold, but when I’ve locked the door behind us, the keys still in the lock where she left them, it’s as if she deflates and falls heavy against my chest. She’s gained back her curves, and her body is even more toned than when she first came here, but I still carry her with ease.

Her workout routine is impressive. I’ve kept an eye on her. She has no idea of where the cameras are, which has been kind of amusing because she has looked for them. She goes for the free weights more than the machines. Like me. I like that. I wonder what it would be like working out with her. Would she try to slam the dumbbells across my head? Probably.

I wasn’t lying. I am a little bit impressed. I like that she fights me. It makes conquering her all the more sweet. I wonder if I’ll grow tired of her after, when she’s given in, given up all hope, when the opposition leaves her. Within a week she’ll be like any of Elena’s whores who will please me, emotionless, a professional smile plastered across her face. I’m not overly fond of the thought.

I frown as I dump her on the bed, watching her scramble back, as if she’s expecting me to lash out and hit her. To my own surprise I have no such plans. Looking at her dirty, no doubt hurting feet, I realize my own probably took a hit too as I sprinted through the foliage. I haven’t felt it through the rush of adrenaline and I still don’t feel it.

Padding through the pile of clothes by my feet, I find my phone and tap the number to the night butler on call.

“Mr. Salvatore?” He sounds awake, alert. I take note of that. I always remember who does good work. I also never forget who fails me.

“Come to my bedroom with a bucket suitable for bathing feet. And bandages.”

“Right away, sir.”

I hang up and take stock of a mute Chloe. She’s still breathing rapidly, her eyes wide and terrified. Normally, I like terrified. Right now, it’s fucking annoying.

“Come.” I wave for her to scramble right the fuck back to me, and she does without hesitation. I have no doubt gotten somewhere with this conditioning game of Miss Becker. Grabbing her under her knees and back again, I move over to the group of armchairs and dump her in one of them. “That was fucking stupid, Chloe. We’re gonna look at those feet first. Then we’ll sleep. I’m tired. You’re not helping.”

Three rapid knocks on the door make me spin around. “Put it right outside and disappear,” I growl. Waiting a few seconds, I then pull the door open and snatch up the orange plastic bucket that also contains an assortment of medical supplies. The door at the far end of the hallway closes and I listen for it to lock before I head back inside and stride to the bathroom to fill the bucket with warm water and some soap. Grabbing a towel, I head back out to Chloe who sits frozen in the same position. Her eyes dart between me and the bucket and she looks as if she thinks I’m about to waterboard her. It irritates me more than it should.

“Just put your fucking feet in the water. Clean up. I don’t want you soiling my sheets.” I have an instinct to bandage her feet when she is done, but instead I toss the rolls of bandages on her lap, annoyed with myself for even thinking it. What the fuck’s wrong with me? I should have had her crawl back on her hands and knees instead, not carrying her like some fucking knight. I’m no hero. I’m the monster. I slay heroes. “Bandage that shit after and stop with your antics. It’s getting old.”

Her glare is dark and filled with emotion, then she pulls the bucket closer and busies herself with her tasks. I stand a moment longer, wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into, then I turn and head for the shower. I’ve got significant amounts of grass and some mud to wash off.

When I get back out, I look around the room, a bit wary, but she has thrown her dirty clothes on the floor and curled up in bed beneath the comforter, turned toward me, one hand tucked under her cheek. Her eyes are dark as they meet mine. The despair has returned to her gaze, that old one which has been gone for quite a while. Not that I’ve seen her happy, but she’s seemed somewhat calm and content lately which admittedly has been pretty nice. We had a few good moments this morning. A few. Then she got mouthy, and maybe I was a bit hard on her. I’ll give her another chance tomorrow.

Neither of us speaks. As I pull the comforter over me, snuggling in, I revel in the heat from her skin. Is this what having a companion could be like? My mind spins. I’ve rarely felt this level of exhaustion. It’s a bone deep ache that makes me feel as if I’ll literally fall apart. My last thought is an image of her dirty and bloodied feet. For some reason that disturbs me in a way the marks I’ve made on her back and ass never have. Maybe I should tie her up, but I don’t have the fucking energy.

When I come to, I’ve slung an arm around Chloe and pulled her to me. She lies stiff, her breathing ragged. My first instinct is to pull away. Somehow I feel like I don’t have the right, that I should leave her alone today, but then I slide my hand upward, cupping her full breast, warm and soft. Her nipple peaks against my palm and I pinch it, making her gasp and arch. As always, her body betrays her. Her response to my touch is amazing and it makes me rock hard in a fraction of a second. Sliding my hand down along her belly, pushing it between her legs, I find her pussy slick. I circle her clit as I put my mouth to her ear.

“Go shower. I’ll pick you up in thirty.”

“For what,” she whispers on an exhale as she squirms.

“Breakfast.” I pull myself away and leave her to her own devices, heading for my other bathroom.

“But—”

---