Page 52 of The Devil's Demise

“Who?” When he points, my attention wanders to a tall woman, not much older than me, her eyes on the black roses with a green serpent among them. “What’s her name?” I ask.

“Stella Emmon.”

“Emmon?” Dante’s brows rise. “As in Emmon Corp? The dress designer?” His stare widens. “She’s rich as hell.”

It’s then I find Aida, strolling up to her, dropping Cyres who goes to one of my assistants. Aida probably recognized the woman. I know nothing about fashion or business. I let Aida help me with that when she’s not busy teaching elementary kids.

They get to talking. Aida’s radiant smile has the woman laughing at something she said. I start toward them, steps away, until I’m right behind her. I kiss the back of her head, deeply inhaling her floral perfume, my arm circling around to her front.

“Hey, darling,” she says, turning, greeting me with an infectious smile, her palm falling to my bicep. And when she touches me, even after all these years, it’s hard not to let it affect me. My muscle there flexes on instinct and my cock begins to harden.

Fuck, now is not the time.

But after this is over—she’s mine.

“Hey, baby.” My mouth ticks up at the corner.

She clears her throat, those cheeks flushing crimson. “I’d like you to meet Ms. Emmon. She was just telling me what a huge fan she is of your work.”

“Thank you.” I politely nod, stretching out a hand for her, and she shakes it, her grip a little too tight, her gaze a little too warm.

I think she’s after a lot more than my art. Unfortunately for her, cheating on my wife is not on the table.

“Oh, I most certainly am a fan, Mr. Cavaleri.” Her bright red lips thin, her eyes glued to mine. “I’ve been following your work for many years now and I’ve been dying to own some of your art for my studios.” She pivots toward the painting, Aida and I doing the same. “I mean, this is exquisite. It would look divine in my Soho store, don’t you think?”

She glances at me over her shoulder, her hand going to my forearm. “You’re a very talented man,” she purrs, her long, clearly fake lashes flapping as she angles her body toward me, right around Aida, like she isn’t even there.

I courteously maneuver myself so that her hand slips right off me, and I use that same arm to tuck my wife against my side. “Thank you very much, Ms. Emmon. I’m grateful for you and everyone else who could be here tonight for such a great cause.”

This pure attempt at flirting makes me hate her. If this wasn’t for charity, I’d throw her out. I have no patience for unprofessionalism. I’m sure she can find someone else to screw tonight. It just won’t be me.

“Of course.” She waves dismissively with an unattractive giggle. “We must do what we can for the lesser privileged.”

The way she said that—it was like she was talking about helping the peasants. How does someone like that look at themselves in the mirror? To think they’re so much better than others?

“Please look around and let my assistant, Coby”—I point him out—“know which pieces you’d like to purchase.”

She nods, fixing the sheer sleeve of her powder-blue ankle dress. Without a second thought, I take my wife’s hand and we march away toward Enzo and Dom, their wives with them as they huddle and chat.

“I think she wanted to fuck you,” Aida whispers with a giggle.

“Hmm, did she?” Amusement flits in my voice.

“Oh, please. Like you didn’t know.”

I grip her wrist and spin her flush against me. I cup her jaw and brush my lips with hers, groaning as she lets a little moan slip.

“It’s too bad that I only have eyes for you,” I breathe. “You own every single part of me, Aida. And I wouldn’t change that for the world.”

“So,” she whispers, biting on her lower lip as her lips flirt with a tiny smile. “You’ve never wanted to sleep with another woman?” The words slip softly from her mouth.

“Not ever, baby. Not when I have you. And you?” I pop a brow. “Have you wanted to fuck another man, Aida?” My knuckles brush under her chin and her bedroom eyes greet me.

She throws her arms around my nape. “Why would I ever wanna do that?” She rises a few inches on her low heels and kisses my mouth.

My eyes fall to a languid close as I taste her breath on my tongue. My entire body hums with contentment, with need, and affection. When she parts her lips from mine, it’s as though I’m empty, needing them back.

“You’ve been my best friend for my whole life, Matteo.” My palm wraps around the back of her head, my forehead falling to hers. “And you, being my husband, it’s something that little girl once only dreamed about. Being with you every day”—she sighs—“in our bed, there’s nowhere else I’d want to be.”

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