Page 23 of My Merciless Don

I froze. What had he just said? I felt him still behind me, even as his hips juddered and snapped. He pulled out of me, collapsing on the bed beside me and turning away. Still panting I stared at his back, trying to tell myself that I had misheard him.

Then he turned and looked at me with regretful eyes, “I'm sorry,” he said.

I just blinked, totally wrong footed, not knowing how to proceed. What do you do when a man calls someone else's name as he orgasms inside you?

“Say something,” he pleaded, and all I could do was shake my head. I wanted to ask if he'd taken me to bed only because of the uncanny resemblance with his dead fiancée, but also I didn't want to know. Better to hang on to the possibility that it was a mistake in the heat of the moment than know for sure that it wasn't.

I sat up, slipping off the bed and looking for my clothes. Whichever way you cut it; this had obviously been a huge mistake. Marco just watched me as I picked up my panties and bra and put them on. The fact that he made no effort to stop me was a special kind of pain. I had hit it and quit it before in my life, but this didn't even feel like that.

It felt as if I hadn't even existed to him. I was just a convenient body that happened to look like the one he wanted. I'm adopted, which means my own parents didn't want me. Not being the first choice is kind of a pet peeve for me. It was actually the reason why I went after Marco’s money. I wanted my stepfather to pick me, to choose me as his heir. I wanted to come first for somebody, for once.

I blamed that for how broken my heart felt in this moment. Leaving the dress he bought me on the floor, I walked out of his room with just my bra and panties. I didn't want anything from him. Not now, not ever.

And I would truly revel in taking him for everything that he was worth.

I banged the door of my temporary room closed and leaned against it with a sigh, my eyes closed. “God what a clusterfuck.” I whispered before straightening up and going to find my borrowed sweats. Tomorrow I would demand that someone take me shopping for some clothes. It was the least Marco could do after that faux pas, and I was done with wearing his dead fiancé’s sweats.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

AUDRY

Iwoke up early with a plan fully formed in my mind. I realized that my behavior the day before had been extremely unprofessional. Marco was not my high school crush, he was a mark and I had to start treating him like one.

The first item on my agenda was to get to know more about Amy, since she was the key to Marco’s psyche and I knew just how to do it. I showered, primped as much as I was able, and then went down for breakfast. Marco was nowhere to be seen, but he wasn't the Cassio I was looking for.

“Good morning, Lucia.” I grinned wide at Marco’s sister.

She cocked an eyebrow at me in surprise. “Morning Audry. Why are you so chipper today?”

“Well, because I’ve decided that you and I are going shopping. I’m tired of living in these sweats, no make-up, no skin care products. It’s a nightmare. I’m sure you get it.”

She nodded uncertainly. “I don’t know if you’re allowed out on your own.”

“I won’t be on my own. I’ll be with you. And I imagine your bodyguard or whoever.”

Lucia gave me a shrewd glance, but whatever she was thinking, she chose to keep to herself. “Fine. We can go after breakfast.”

I did a small skip. “Yay.” I said.

Pasadena had a lot of small, unique, independent shops selling everything from thrifted clothes to designer duds. As expected, Lucia knew all the best places and was on first name basis with most of the proprietors. As a result, we were able to get a pretty good haul in terms of clothes, shoes, makeup and skin care. As the bodyguard put our bags away in the car, we wandered over to a coffee shop, to replenish our energy.

I sat down with a sigh, feeling quite happy about how the day was going, and loving the new jump suit I was wearing in olive green paired with brown beach sandals. I even got some new jewelry, all courtesy of Marco’s credit card.

We sipped our drinks, discussing seemingly random topics. Finally, I brought up how everyone in the house mistook me for Amy.

“Tell me about her. Are we really that much alike?”

Lucia smiled, shaking her head. “Not really. You’re like, bubbly and confident, kinda outgoing, you know? Amy was shy. She had the biggest smile, but she wielded it sparingly, you know what I mean? She was kind and loving, but quiet. I think she made Marco feel like a big, strong knight in shining armor.”

“Hmm.” I said, taking a sip of my café latte. “That definitely doesn’t sound like me.”

Lucia laughed. “Definitely not.”

I frowned, not liking her enthusiastic agreement. But I ruthlessly quashed that feeling. “So, Marco was like totally in love with her huh? I can’t imagine it. He doesn’t strike me as the lovey-dovey type.”

“Yeah, he hides it well.” She grinned smugly, playing with her straw.

I was intrigued. “You’re not saying he is?”.

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