Page 49 of The Almost One

“Who says I’m wearing any?”

“Fuck.” The word is said on such a deep growl that it sends shivers down my spine, and as I tense up, the love eggs—part of my punishment for keeping the Lina-secret from Marco—send a whole other shiver through me. Marco grips the back of my head and pulls my lips to meet his, his other hand grasping at my hip, no doubt leaving delicious bruises as a reminder of his ownership. Much like the crescent-shaped marks I left on his back last night after gripping him so hard I broke a pinky nail.

“Mmm. Mine.” He breathes the words over my parted lips and I smile up at him as I reach my hands around to squeeze his delectable ass before tapping it lightly.

“Come on, Mr. Mancini, time to play host.”

As guests begin to arrive, filling in the open space in the grand hall just off the main lobby, I play the dutiful wife. Making polite conversation, gushing about the renovations, none of it feels like it used to when I literally ‘played the part’, it’s different somehow. I actually mean the words that are coming out of my mouth—well, the ones about my husband anyway.

A string orchestra is in the far corner of the room, looming glass windows behind them as they play. The lyrical sounds of modern classics fill the space, creating an amazing atmosphere of class and elegance. When they begin playingDemons, the first song Marco and I danced to, a grin spreads across my face and I tug at his arm.

To hear it being played in this way, no words, is beautiful, and Marco looks down at me with pure love in his stormy eyes.

“Please excuse me, I must dance with my wife.” He’s speaking to the important men in front of us, but his gaze is solely on me and he doesn’t wait for a response from them before he turns to me, sliding his hands around my waist.

We don’t move to the area set up for dancing, no one is there anyway, instead, he focuses all his attention on me as we begin to sway to the music floating through the room. My arms are around his neck and I can’t help tickling my fingers over his skin, tangling them in the short strands of his hair.

Our bodies move seamlessly together and the rest of the world seems inconsequential in this moment. All that exists are the two of us as I rest my head against Marco’s chest, breathing in the vanilla scent that calms everything inside me, that makes me strong.

Before the song is finished, Marco stiffens in my hold, muttering something unintelligible as he gently pulls away.

“Marco, sweetie. How lovely to see you.”

An older woman with silver hair approaches, dripping in jewels and sequins, and she offers him her hand as if she’s royalty.

“Eleanor, I didn’t know you were coming this evening. How are you?” Marco, ever the gentleman, politely holds her hand, tipping his head before letting go.

“Oh, Marco. I’m still a complete mess. Elizabeth persuaded me to come with her. Just to get out of the house, you know? Have you heard anything yet?”

This woman has to be Elizabeth’s mother or a friend. Either way, I don’t like the vibes she’s giving off, so I allow my trusty mask to slip into place as I smile sweetly at her—even though she seems to be completely ignoring my presence. Marco squeezes my hand gently, as if he can sense my unease with this woman.

“No news at the moment, I’m afraid. Like I said, I doubt he’d want to speak with me anyway after our last encounter.”

Who is he talking about?

“Yes, yes, you did say. But you know people. Influential people. If anyone can find my boy, my Nathaniel, it’s you.” The woman dabs at invisible tears at the same time that my insides all decide to shoot up my throat, fear gripping me at the mention of Nathaniel’s name.

This woman is Nathaniel’s mother.Oh, fuck.

“I will continue to do my best, Ms. Hunter.”

“I know you will. You’ve always been a sweet boy. I must go to the ladies’ room and tidy myself up a little. I’m such a mess. Thank you, Marco.”

She swiftly turns, fake tears and all, continuing to pretend I don’t exist, and disappears into the crowd of people. While all this is happening, my body is shutting down and I’m finding it hard to breathe properly. Marco must sense something is wrong, as he wraps an arm around me, leads me from the room, up a flight of stairs and out onto a balcony. He remains stoically silent until we reach our destination, then crumbles right along with me as my legs finally give out.

He holds me tightly, stroking a hand up and down my back as I nestle into him, allowing him to be strong for me in this moment while I freak the fuck out. The mention of Nathaniel’s name brought the vision of him lying in the hall of my old apartment into the forefront of my mind, and it’s difficult to shake. His pale skin, the blood…

Nope. I’m not doing this.

I take a deep breath, becoming aware of the chill in the air as my surroundings come into focus. Deep inhale, deep exhale. And again.

“Okay, I’m good. Thank you.” I speak into his chest, enjoying the comfort of his warmth.

“You sure, Tesoro?” He places a gentle kiss on the top of my head.

“Mmmhmm.” Another deep breath.

My eyes shoot open then, as I remember I have fucking questions. I wriggle out of his lap, standing and leaning against the banister of the balcony, paying zero attention to the beauty that is SoHo at night. “What the fuck was that all about, Marco? Obviously, that was Nathaniel’s mother, and it sounded a lot like this wasn’t your first conversation about where he is. So, it’s time for you to fess up, Mr. Mancini. I’ve been patient and understanding, but you’ve got a fuckload to explain. I fucking love you, Marco, but I’m sick and tired of the secrets and avoidance. It ends tonight.”

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