Page 10 of Sins of the Son

This was what it truly felt like to know that the most glorious, frustrating, engaging, beautiful, intelligent, infuriatingly sexy, amazing woman I had ever known was now mine and only mine. The rush of possessive pride was invigorating. It was all I could do not to jump up and start pounding my chest like a fucking caveman.

I turned on my side to pull her closer.

She turned away.

Before I could say anything, she flew off the bed and out of the room.

CHAPTER 4

MILANA

I ran across the hall into the bathroom and slammed the door behind me.

Shivering, I leaned against its cold, wooden surface.

The door vibrated violently with Cesare’s knock. “Milana? Open this door.”

I turned and locked it before backing away deeper into the bathroom.

It was the one modern indulgence of his brother Enzo’s remodel of the cottage. He had combined several rooms to make an elegant, spa-like space. A thick, glass-walled shower the size of a walk-in closet dominated one end of the room, while a black, marble-topped island stood in the center, a crystal chandelier suspended above it. I reached under the island and quickly pulled a towel from the metal warming rack. Wrapping the warmed dark terry cloth around my middle, I stared in horror at the doorknob as it rattled.

Cesare called out again. His voice was terse. “Milana. I’m losing patience.”

My head swiveled from left to right. There were no windows, just thick, frosted panes of glass to let in a soft glow of light. I padded across the cold tile floor to the shower. Leaning against a glass pane, I turned the brass knob to full blast. The shower nozzle above, as well as the six nozzles positioned along the sides of the shower walls, hissed as hot water sprayed into the chamber.

I stared at the door and waited.

Only after several minutes of silence had passed and the bathroom had filled with a comforting blanket of steam did I feel safe enough to drop my towel and step into the shower.

The hot water stung my sensitive skin. I adjusted the heat level and pushed my wet hair back from my face. I stepped closer to the shower jets and let the punishing stream of water pound into my flesh, a form of self-flagellation.

Looking down between my feet, I watched as the water swirled down the drain, grateful for the obsidian marble. If it had been white, I would have seen evidence of the biggest freaking mistake of my life going down the drain. I leaned my head back and let the water splash across my face.

I wasn’t religious. My horrible grandmother had beaten any thought of a benevolent God out of me long ago. So it wasn’t like I had been saving my virginity as some archaic blood sacrifice to my groom on my wedding night. It was just, after the betrayal of seven years ago, I had never allowed myself to trust anyone. Then there was the whole stupid trauma thing from that betrayal. I mostly had a handle on it. It was just at night, when it was dark, that it would sometimes get the best of me. No one wanted to sleep with a girl who woke up screaming for no reason.

I wrapped my left hand around my neck as I flattened my right palm over my opposite hip, hugging myself.

My lower lip trembled as I squeezed my eyes shut.

Of all the people…

Of all the stupid mistakes…

Why?

Why did I have to succumb to the man I hated most in the world?

The man I blamed for….

My eyes flew open.

I snatched the bar of soap from the brass dish. Not even bothering to lather it between my hands, I rubbed the bar against my skin. I needed to get his scent off me. I needed to erase the feel of his hands, his mouth, his… I rubbed harder with the soap.

How could I have responded to his touch? To the feel of him?

It made little sense.

Ever since the betrayal, I've hated to be touched.

---