Page 22 of Mine to Love
Forcing myself onto my feet, I rinse the wound under the faucet and then apply Styptic liquid to the cut. It’s good for cleansing and stopping the bleeding. Clive used to keep it on hand for various purposes. I can remember we used it after he chased me around the house with a knife because there was no logical explanation he could offer a doctor why his wife hadclean-cut lacerations on her back. Thankfully, they weren’t deep enough to require stitches. I wonder what he would’ve done then.
My lip quivers as my heart rate continues to increase. “Come on, Darcy. You can do this,” I say to myself as I place a hydroseal bandage over the cut. It’s like the one Gio has on his arm. They’re waterproof and have a silicone-like texture. If the cut isn’t too deep, a few days should be enough time for the skin to reconnect and heal on its own. Though, it might leave a scar. I suppose it will be the most fondly remembered among the ones I have. And it’ll serve as a reminder—don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to and ignore anything that looks unusual.
With the bandage on, I close my eyes and lean forward, resting my palms on the edge of Gio’s vanity. “Deep breaths. Deep breaths.”
19
Sweat dripsfrom my scalp down my face as I sling my fists into the black punching bag. My workouts always begin with a sunrise walk from my house to the gym inside the pool house on the main grounds. Domenico, Alister’s father, had the place renovated when Alister and his sister, Sophia, were younger. And Alister updated it in recent years. Everything has been freshly painted in shades of white and black. Overall, the space is modern compared to the houses on the estate. There’s room for weight training and a turf area for circuit training. There’s every type of machine you could ask for, even some tires to flip, which is always fun. And, while I much prefer working with a sparring partner, the punching bag is my favorite of the gym equipment.
After my weights session and before my run back home, I always spend a good twenty minutes throwing the bag around. It’s good cardio and good practice for the unexpected threats constantly on the rise. Not to mention, it’s the perfect way to release all my pent-up energy, aggression, stress, or whatever the dominant emotion of the day is. Today, I’m not sure whichis more pressing—thoughts of Serena and what she may or may not be up toandmy growing affection for Darcy.
The way she and I left things last night had me thinking about her until the very moment I finally fell asleep. Black eyes and broken ribs? Remembering our conversation has me taking out the frustration I felt on the bag the same way I took my rage out on the bartender who insulted her. But pain and sadness, vengeance even, are not all I think of when I think of Darcy.
The innocent intimacy of holding her hand and simply saying her name melds with the lust that’s been bubbling inside me ever since I saw her in those tiny little shorts this morning. Darcy, yes, she’s where my head is and thoughts of her are all-consuming. So consuming, that even as my workout ends, I find myself in need of a different release.
As sweat stings my eyes, I pinch them closed and back away from the bag as it swings. It’s behind my closed eyelids I see her. She moves like a goddess or a graceful little gazelle, unaware of the lion hunting her, readying to pounce. God, I fight those urges all too frequently now. If I had my way—if she were ready—I would have come up behind her as she prepared her coffee. I would have placed one hand on her stomach and wrapped one around her neck. As my grip tightens around her delicate flesh, not so much that it hurts, just enough that she knows who she belongs to, I would unbutton her shorts and slide my hand into her panties. Gently, slowly, I would tease her clit. I find myself short of breath as I imagine it—touching her, embracing her, studying her every curve and memorizing her every sound.
I wonder what she sounds like when she is pleasured? When she cums? Oh, the way her breathless moans and cries for more would electrify every nerve in my body. The way I would bend to her every request, worship her. As I picture her pressing her body against mine, bracing herself as her arousal builds, I can’t think of a single thing I would ask her to do to me. I just wanther, all of her—in my hands, in my mouth, wrapped around me like a vice I never want to be free from.
As my fantasy continues to play out, I rip my boxing gloves off and, bracing myself against the wall, slip my hand down the front of my joggers. Once more, I close my eyes and stroke myself to thoughts of her. I kiss her shoulder as I slip one finger inside her. Then, guiding her mouth to mine with my hand still clenching her neck, I savor her gasp as I surprise her with a second finger. She looks at me with parted lips and eyes, both innocent and desperate. Without words, she begs me for more and I’m all too happy to oblige.
Spinning her around, I pick her up and sit her plump, bouncy ass on the kitchen countertop, ridding her of her shorts as I do. Oh, I bet she tastes so good. “Darcy.” I moan as the pressure in my dick builds. It’s so intense that I know I can’t hold out much longer. But I try to restrain myself because I haven’t even made it to the best part yet.
Bending over, I bring my teeth to her white lace panties and pull them from her swollen, sensitive flesh. She watches me with anticipation, excitement, or perhaps confusion. Has she ever been eaten out before? Thoughts of being the first to go down on her is my undoing. Before I can even imagine bringing my mouth to her sweet little cunt, I burst. My body jerks as cum shoots from me, leaving me more breathless than any workout ever could.
There’s a euphoric explosion in my mind that comes with my release, a sense of calm and peace I haven’t felt in a while.Damn,that may have been the strongest ejaculation I’ve ever experienced. My lips spread into a smile. The high from my workout and now this is all too intoxicating. Though my high has a quick let-down as I open my eyes to stare at nothing but the white wall of the gym. It was just a fantasy, one I’m not surewill ever transcend into the realm of reality. And that is a sinking feeling.
Backing away from the wall, my smile fades and I suddenly notice my body’s fatigue and the sticky cum clinging to my thighs. Turning around to— “Oh, shit!Sorry, girl. You shouldn’t have had to see that,” I say, as Ru gives me a side-eye from her lounging position on the turf. She’s so quiet, I forget she’s here half the time. She groans, as if to tell me she’s ready to head back. “I know, girl. Just a minute.”
Grabbing my phone off the bench, I head to the bathroom to clean up. I know I’ll be sweaty and gross again by the time I make it back to the house. But, until I do, I’d rather not feel, or smell, the reminder of what I don’t have and probably never will. Quickly, I strip down and toss my cum-filled joggers on the floor. There should be a spare set of clothes in the vanity. It is a pool house after all, and crazier things than post-workout masturbation have occurred.
Turning on the water to the green-tiled shower, I bring it to a medium heat and step in. Using the body wash, I rinse away the sweat and cum and take a moment to get my bearings. As the water rushes over me, I take several deep breaths and allow the last thoughts of Darcy to drift to the back of my mind—at least for now.
Today is Monday, which means it’s going to be a long one. And, with Damon and Ana’s wedding this Saturday, it’s even more important I’m on my shit so that nothing interferes with their big day. When I get back to the house, I’ll have emails and texts to check. I’ll have to schedule visits with the former capos now working for Aidan Cross and the mob. Not to mention, I’ll have to make time to meet with him as wellandI’ll need to go over the security plan for Damon and Ana’s wedding with both his men and the guys from The Compound.
There shouldn’t be anything to worry about, but Damon isn’t taking any chances after Ana’s abduction, and I don’t blame him. Speaking of The Compound, I wonder if the guys have any updates on the cartel’s movements yet? And then, there’s the other matter—Alister and Ariana.
With Alister gone, I’ve been left in charge of protecting Ariana. But, since she’s an FBI agent and her father has men of his own to help keep her safe, there’s not a lot for me to do aside from stay in the loop and show up if shit goes down. Considering the delicate nature of Alister’s departure from New Orleansandthe emotional strain it’s put on Ariana, it’s best I keep my distance anyway.
Alister went dark the moment his private jet landed in Prague, at least, to the rest of the world. But, seeing as I’m the one who planned his escape and provided him with aliases, untraceable transportation, and a safe house, I know exactly where he is and have continued to keep tabs on him. I know he’s capable of taking care of himself, but he’s my brother. And, for many years, he was my boss. Perhaps he still is. Regardless of what’s happened with the Mafia, regardless of what happens in the future, some ties—blood ties—never break.
It’s my job to keep him hidden and safe for as long as that’s what he desires. And with the uncertainty regarding the cartel’s movements, it’s more important than ever that he remains put until we can figure all of this out. But then, that leaves Ariana, coming up on a year, alone and yearning for her lost love. I can’t even imagine her pain. Though, as I consider what losing Darcy would feel like, perhaps I start to understand. And that understanding provides me with empathy that I’m sure Ariana wishes I would’ve had all along.
Almost every day for six months, she texted and called, wanting to know where Alister was, when he’s coming back, how he’s doing. I never confirmed that I knew of his whereabouts,but she was aware of my relationship with Alister and assumed I would know. She even took it a step further and showed up here a few times after he first left. Every time, I turned her away. There are some things she just can’t know, both because of her position with the FBI and because Alister wouldn’t want her anywhere near the Mafia or anyone attached to it—including him. But…maybe I was wrong to keep her at such a distance? Maybe I should extend some sort of olive branch, especially after she showed up—without question or hesitation—to help rescue Ana.
I hang my head as I consider the possibilities, what Alister would be okay with, but also what’s best. This past year has been hard for us all. But perhaps it’s been the hardest for Ariana. She’d just gotten a taste of love, of having a family, after being alone nearly all her life. Practically, the moment she got it, she lost it. Though, I can’t imagine this has been easy for Alister either. After losing both his parents and— It’s then that I stop myself from finishing that thought, shut off the water, and quickly exit the shower.
A dull ache and heaviness rises in my chest as I dry the water from my skin. But I do my best to ignore it. I won’t think of her, of it. I won’t. I can’t. Though, as I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror above the vanity, I remember the last time I showered out here, the last time I stared at my reflection in this very mirror. I take a deep breath then as the memories come flooding back.
It’s been over two years, but it feels just like yesterday. I had just finished a workout and for some reason, I decided to shower instead of heading straight home. During my workout, I was also doing my nightly check-ins with all the lead soldiers on the various security details. I oversaw Alister’s detail but was also in charge of all the other guards as well. It was my job to place each guard where I felt they were best suited and to make sure enough guards were assigned to each detail according to the threat levelour charges may face. At the time, there was a house detail, an estate detail, and special details for the three Amato siblings—Alister, Sophia, and Cara.
That night, I sent the text out to Cara’s guards and got into the shower without waiting for their response. I was careless, too comfortable. I…I failed, especially given the tension at the time. I thought she was safe on campus. I thought she was a low-level target. Anyone coming for the Amatos would come for the crown, not the youngest of a trio of siblings, not a teenager, not an innocent little girl.
I pinch my eyes closed and, resting my palms on the vanity in front of me, lean forward. Images of her rampaged dorm room and of every horrific thing I saw right up until the moment we found her, or what was left of her, flick through my mind. As tears escape from behind my closed eyelids, I quickly wipe them away and stand tall. I fight through the pain coursing through me, the ache in my cheeks and chest, and put on the same stoic mask I’ve worn every day since. I don’t deserve to mourn her.
It may not have been my fault she was taken, but if I had done a better job at creating her detail, if I had not taken that ten-minute shower, giving her captors an even greater head start, maybe we could’ve found her before she spent months being sex trafficked and tortured with inhumane devices, before she ended up turned to mush in a barrel cast off a ship in the middle of the ocean.
That was the last time I showered here, the last time I worked out at night. The day Cara was taken changed everything for everyone. And, I guess, we’re still picking up the pieces. That, or like me, are just barreling forward trying to forget, trying not to spend every waking moment riddled with guilt, trying to compensate by never letting anything like that ever happen again, and maybe, just maybe, trying to find a reason to smileagain. Darcy is that reason for me same as Ariana is that reason for Alister.
