Page 44 of The Last Vendetta

I considered the possibility of Luka’s timid, short-term wife killing him. Cecilia hadn’t been enthusiastic about marrying him, but no arranged couples were excited about their chosen partners.

Like Giulia. She dreaded the possibility of marrying Nickolas. I hated the thought of his having her too. It killed me that he’d seen her dancing last night. If I had any say in it, that fucker didn’t deserve a second of being in her presence.

Is Cecilia hiding out of guilt? She killed Luca and needs to lie low? But why?

If she hadn’t wanted to marry him, it would’ve made more sense to kill him before the wedding.

As I left the house after my talk with my father, I tried to figure out how I could reach Giulia and speak with her about this. I felt stuck in my head, both with the way she wouldn’t get out of my mind and with all these speculations that led nowhere. She’d have opinions. She’d be able to tell me what she thought of my guesses.

I no longer saw her as my enemy. I couldn’t when I was desperate to check on her and make sure she was all right after last night. She’d been so tight, so young and innocent, and I knew I’d taken her harder than she might have wished for her first time. My efforts were too late. But wasn’t it the thought that counted?

If she wasn’t my enemy, I couldn’t label her as some ordinary easy pussy, either. She wasn’t an average nobody I’d fucked on a whim.

Giulia was coming to be a true friend. Someone I instinctively knew I could count on.

She was…

An equal. A brilliant, brave woman I would be proud to call my own. And once again, I wished I could make that happen, to freely go to her whenever I wanted, for whatever reason.

Or even without one. I wanted access to her for good, for the hell of it. Because when she was near, when she welcomed me to touch her and drive her to the brink of an intense orgasm, I felt more alive than I’d ever been. And when she simply listened to me and shared ideas or intel, I felt like I wasn’t alone or struggling but one half of a true pair where one could always depend on the other.

15

GIULIA

Giulia

The morning after Renzo took me to his place, I woke up groggy and disoriented from poor sleep. All night long, I suffered flashbacks of the memories that would live forever in my mind.

The rub of his muscled arms against my sides. The clutch of his fingers on my ass. The pulling cinch of that fabric around my wrists, disabling me from freeing my hands.

“Stop,” I groaned lightly to myself as I got out of bed. “Stop thinking about him.”

It was impossible. Because as I started a scalding hot shower to massage my body, I couldn’t turn off the phantom reminders of how he felt.

Over me. In me. Everywhere. The desire he’d stoked in me coursed through me with a feral intensity, and I didn’t think I’d ever feel normal again.

Was this simply what it felt like to no longer be a virgin?

Or is it because it was him?

I stepped into the stall and hoped the hot water would massage me and render me awake.

Last night, I showered and cleaned off the stickiness of our cum and the little bit of blood, but today, as I let the water soothe my rattled mind, I felt depressed. That was it.

Once.

I’d enjoyed the harsh perfection of Renzo deep inside me one time, and that was all I could ever hope for. His Family loathed mine, and what remained of my Family wasn’t any better. Dario still seemed to suspect Renzo killed Father. Mother hated all the Bernardis. Trying to look forward to a repeat of that unexpected passion was a waste of time.

I eventually left the shower, my skin numb and raw, and I knew this uneasiness and sense of longing would have to fade.

Downstairs, I found my mother seated in a chair in the summer room.

I stopped short, almost spilling the coffee I’d just made.

She sat there, calm and collected as she sipped her coffee, and my suspicions grew immediately.

What is she doing here?

---