Page 95 of Unholy Union
There’s a soft knock at the door.
I glance up to find Sabrina standing in the doorway, framed by the shadows from the hall. She’s ready for bed, changed into a thin nightgown that clings to every curve of her body. Her curls fall loosely around her shoulders, her face washed clean of any make up she had on for the day. Just a few freckles and her wide, curious eyes.
It occurs to me she’s been waiting up for me.
“Couldn’t sleep?” I ask.
She gives a shrug. “Neither could you.”
“Well? You coming in or what?” I ask when she’s still hovering by the door. I lean back in the chair and kick up my legs on the desk, crooking a finger at her to come over. “Come here, principessa.”
She obeys, but not without first making sure I see her eyes roll. She pads over to where my desk is, stopping right in front of me so she can lean against the edge.
This close, the fabric of her nightgown’s sheer enough that I can see the shape of her breasts. The subtle little peaks that are her rosy nipples poking through.
Blood rushes to my cock.
I have a migraine and I’m exhausted, but my desire for Sabrina overrides both. Besides, an orgasm might alleviate some of the tension pulsing in my skull.
My hand slips over the swell of her hip and I pull her toward me. “How about you sit on my lap? Let’s see if you can tire me out.”
She smirks, then trails a finger along my shirt collar, stopping at a splotch of dried blood. “I would’ve thought you’d already be exhausted. You look like you’ve been busy tonight.”
“Busy doesn’t mean satisfied,” I say, catching her hand. “It damn sure doesn’t help me unwind.”
“So… did you find out anything?”
I exhale a deep, exasperated sigh at the question, releasing her hand and dropping my legs from the desk. I sit up from my office chair, scrubbing a hand over my face.
Suddenly, exhaustion has come sweeping back in with a vengeance.
All due to her question.
Here I was, trying to let loose, thinking maybe she wanted to relax together, and she’s here for intel.
“Sabrina, what have I told you about asking questions like that?”
She folds her arms across her chest. “Cato, he was following us.”
“I was the one who realized that.”
“So you expect me to stay in the dark?”
“It’s none of your concern,” I grit out irritably, eyeing her in warning. “Let me and my men handle it.”
“I’m the target!Howis it not my concern?!”
My jaw hardens as more frustration builds. “Sabrina…”
“I deserve to know what’s going on. If someone is after me, then I should know about it. I’m not asking to know specifics about anything else. But I am directly involved on this, Cato!” she argues stubbornly. “You can’t pretend I’m not.”
I release another long-held breath, deep down knowing she’s right.
Thisdoesdirectly involve her; but this is yet another thing that Papà would vehemently oppose.
He would think it’s foolish to include her in any way. If not because she’s a woman, then because she’s a Corsini, which is even worse given the situation.
We still have no idea what we’re dealing with.
