The sweetest triumph of my life.
Fuck. This woman …
I fixed myself a drink, a bourbon, then leaned against the bar, swirling the liquid in the glass, fucking averse to washing away her taste. The memory still burned bright.
This was the moment I’d worked toward, had been patient for. For once in my life I’d been patient.
Your reward will be worth it.
I will be your first angel.
Serafina was so much more than I’d hoped for. She was magnificently gorgeous, ruinously breathtaking. Even lesser men would kill to have someone as regal as her in their bed only once. I almost got a fucking boner thinking about how Danilo would feel seeing the sheets with Serafina’s virgin blood on them, how acutely he’d feel the loss of something he had desired from afar for years, something that had almost been in his reach only to be painfully ripped from him. It was enough to drive even the most controlled man into a rampage.
And her father and brother … for them it would be a painting of their greatest failure.
“That smile on your face creeps me the fuck out,” Savio muttered as he came in, smelling of perfume and sex.
“Thinking of my next message for Dante,” I said, setting the glass down without taking a single sip. I couldn’t bear the idea of getting rid of Serafina’s taste just yet.
Savio’s eyes flitted down to my upper thighs coated in Serafina’s blood then up to my face.
He crossed his arms. “Either you mauled a kitten and rubbed your face and groin all over the spoils or you had a disturbing meeting with virgin pussy.”
Something dark and possessive burned my chest hearing him talk like that about Serafina. I shoved it down. “Not a virgin anymore.”
Savio regarded me curiously then shook his head with a disbelieving laugh. “You really got her to come willingly into your bed. Fuck, Remo, you must have twisted that girl’s mind.”
I grinned. “And tomorrow I’ll bathe in my triumph and send Dante the sheets.”
Savio laughed, came toward me, and downed the drink I’d poured for myself. “To your twisted mind and all the twisted shit it comes up with. You wanted to break her and you broke her.”
I left him standing there, not in the mood to talk about Serafina anymore. My body yearned for her, for more. For everything. When I entered the bedroom, I found the bed empty, except for the stained sheets. I followed the sound of running water into the bathroom.
Serafina was huddled in the shower and the sight caused an unpleasant twinge in my chest. I turned off the water then knelt before her. “Look at me,” I said. “Look at me, Serafina.”
Her blue eyes held anguish and guilt when I forced her face up.
“If it helps, try telling yourself I raped you,” I murmured. “Maybe you will start believing it.”
Hatred flared in her eyes, and for once it didn’t give me a thrill.
I got up, frustrated by my body’s reaction. I stalked back into the bedroom and stripped the bed of its sheets, not wanting them ruined. Serafina would probably try to burn them to destroy any proof of what we’d done, but she couldn’t burn the memory. I threw them into the hallway before I returned to Serafina. She stood now, her fingers clutching the edge of the shower stall, her other hand pressed against her stomach. She took a step, wincing.
I moved closer and her eyes darted down to my bloody thighs. She grimaced. “Why don’t you clean up?”
“Because I want to remember.”
“And I want to forget,” she bit out.
“You need to own up to your actions, Angel. You can’t run from them,” I said, stopping in front of her.
Hatred swirled in her blue eyes, but not all of it was directed at me. “Leave.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Leave!” she rasped.
“The Tylenol will help with your soreness.” I turned and walked toward the door.
“I don’t want the pain gone. I deserve it,” she muttered. I paused in the doorway and tossed a glance over my shoulder, but Serafina wasn’t looking at me. She was glaring at the floor.
I left the bathroom, took new sheets from the wardrobe and threw them on the bed before I headed out and locked the bedroom door. Stuffing the discarded sheets under my arm, I hesitated. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what, but something didn’t sit well with me. Ignoring the sensation, I went downstairs.
Nino crossed my path as I headed into the game room. He, too, was only in his briefs. His eyes flitted down to the stained sheets then lower to my thighs before he raised his eyebrows. “I don’t suppose it’s menstrual blood.”
“It isn’t. It’s Dante’s downfall.”
Nino trailed after me in that annoying, brooding way he had when he disapproved of something I did. “Not only his downfall.”