Page 43 of The Sound in Silence

Our exchange doesn’t go unnoticed as Erico’s breaths come out in stinted pants, sharp gaze flicking between me and Sebastian’s retreating back, like he’s determining which fight to have first.

With a sugary smile, I swim away, floating on my back and creating enough distance between us so when he yells, it can be from afar. So what if I’ve been friendly with Sebastian? It’s better than hiding in the bedroom all day, right. Besides, Erico already said he might be gone often, especially now as Boss, so being on good terms with the staff, who’ll be around me constantly, is smart.

By the time I complete a circle around the pool, Erico has removed his suit jacket, his shoes and socks, his Rolex, and his phone, placing them all on the seat Sebastian last occupied, almost like trying to make a claim on it too.

Then he walks to the edge of the pool, right by the stone steps.

And down them, ankles in the water.

And another step, continuing until the water’s up to his hip, and then his chest.

He’s insane.

Quick, powerful strides take him to my side, and even paddling can’t get me away fast enough. One second he was by the pool’s edge and the next, I’m being pinned to the wall, his arms framing my body, keeping me captive.

His wet clothing clings to his form, his white button-down shirt making the planes of his chest more prominent. Beneath the shirt, made transparent by the water, I spot a few dark tattoos. Water droplets cling to his face from his quick shark-like swim to my side, and he’s barely panting, telling me he’s also spent a lot of time in this pool and is a proficient swimmer, considering he did this all with clothing that got weighed down by water.

“What are you doing?” he bites out, his wet lips brushing against one another in a way my insides appreciate all too much. Even as my mind is still catching up to the fact that Erico has returned without warning from Vegas.

My eyes flick around the pool, my answer obvious.

“Sebastian never informed me you were out here.”

Wow, there’s making sure I’m not hiding in a room and then there’s this.

“In fact, he never answered the text I sent him. Neither did you.” He sent me a message? Must have done so before I abandoned my phone on the bed. “But now, I see why I was ignored by the two people who shouldn’t be.”

Do you?My brow lifts a fraction in question.

One of his arms leaves the wall at my side and a single finger drags over my neck. Other than the kiss sealing our vows, this is the one and only time he’s touched me and I hate how good it feels. Hate the way my desperate body aches to cling to the sensation, to ensure it continues. He patches something inside me, though. Something that was lonely before thirty seconds ago. But then alsocausesthat same loneliness because my mind and body know, this is fleeting. It’ll always be momentary with him. Everything will have a role—a purpose behind it. He’ll touch me to impregnant me. He’ll touch me in public when he has to show a partnership. But that’s it.

Even if the look in his dark eyes claims something else.

His finger slides down my neck, chasing water droplets dripping from my hair and onto my chest. His touch pauses right at the edge of the bikini top, and I curse my breathing for stopping. For the falter in my heart that I have little doubt he feels.

“Because when you dress like this, how can he resist looking?” He fingers the string around my neck. “Of all the fucking swimsuits stocked in your closet, you choose this one?”

There’s more? I put on the first one I found. Definitely would have worn a more modest one had I saw the others.

“I rushed back from Vegas to see you. The video chats got tiresome when seeing the real version of you was a possibility. The one I can touch.” His thumb slides over the curve of my breast, his eyes pinning me to the spot.“Sirena,”he murmurs, and I don’t need to understand Italian to comprehend what he’s calling me. “La mia sirena mortale.My deadly siren, luring out the killer inside me if other men continue to gaze at your body how Sebastian was checking you out.”

Well, you don’t want it.If I could talk, that’s precisely what I would say. I try to tell him that too. For my wet lips to part and to speak the words, but metal on metal fills my ears instead, a scream accompanying it, and I remain silent. Again. For my safety.

His other hand slips into the water so I’m no longer caged in. But I am now, in other ways. By the way his hand splays across my hip, fingers wrapping around me. His other traces the edge of my bikini, not touching, just tempting. So opposite of the man I knew days ago.

Do you know him at all though?

“You seem to forget, Ariella, you’remywife. Just because I go out of town, doesn’t mean others get to move into my place.”

So that’s what this is.A damn power trip. Erico felt his little caged pet was seeking comfort elsewhere and can’t handle the challenge.

I fucking hate the insinuation though, and shove my hands into his chest while pushing off the wall, trying to use my strength to dive through the water and escape. If I succeed, my death look tells him as much too.

But I don’t because he doesn’t budge. My strength nothing to his own. The hand enticing ungodly feelings over my chest slides upwards to the column of my throat. He doesn’t linger for long, his thumb and forefinger gripping the side of my jaw as he angles my face to wherever he wants me.

Another show. Proof that I’m merely his doll, his plaything. The wife he’ll keep by his side that no one else can touch.

Yet, I can’t move, and not because of his physical hold, but rather the hold he has on my emotions. The confusion I’m feeling toward his own anger and annoyance, while feeling also an appreciation Ishoulddespise.

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