Page 21 of The Crowned Garza
There’s no ignoring or denying it anymore. No convincing myself otherwise. Not even after solid evidence tonight that I’d been right about him all along. The bizarre truth is, I’m attracted to this man. This suspenders-and-bow tie-wearing fraud of a man. This man who literally just carried out a double murder, all without getting a hint of blood on his pristine white shirt. This man who I’m certain is a silent psychopath. This man who quite possibly has underlying intentions of harming my brothers or Red Cage.
It’s nuts. Batshit crazy. Downright loco.
But I’m deeply, undeniably, unequivocally attracted to Santo Luciani.
May God help me.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Not my problem.”
Tillie
Seven Months Later…
“ARE YOU SURE YOUdon’t want to stay with me tonight?” Dom rubs his calloused palms up and down my bare arms to stave off the night air, his chest at my back, his breath at my ear. “This isn’t how I anticipated… I really wanted it to be good for you, to stay with you and take care of you after.”
Bright headlights creep up the long, winding driveway of the estate.
“I know. Me too,” I say, reassuring. “But I just want to be alone tonight.”
He scoops my curls off to one side and drips kisses along my neck. “Okay, babe. I understand.” His ensuing sigh is warm against my skin. “You could have at least let me take you home, though.”
“Please stay, have fun,” I insist. “I’ve ruined your night enough.”
Behind me, he bristles. “What do you mean ‘have fun’? I didn’t even want to come here. This was your idea.”
Turning to face him, I bracket his bearded, ruggedly handsome face with my palms. “You have my permission towatch, not participate. I feel awful that I’ve ruined what should’ve been a special night for us.”
“Don’t you get it yet thatyouareall I’m about?” he asks, shaking his head at me. “I want you to be my woman, Tillie. Why would I want to go back in there and watch other women? Let me take you home, take care of you, and watchyousleep.”
Dropping my hands from his face, I blow out a frustrated sigh. “Dom…”
He catches my hands and squeezes. “Okay, okay, I get it. You’re not ready to commit right now. Sorry for pushing.” He drops his head back and mutters something in French at the night sky. “You just… I feel so much for you, Tillie.”
Headlights reach the front of the mansion, drowning us in their glare as the car pulls to a stop by the waterfall.
Dom leans in and kisses me. It’s soft and gentle but tastes richly of restraint and frustration.
A loud honk breaks us apart.
“Sorry,” I say, backing away, “my brother can be impatient.”
He grips the back of his neck and half-heartedly nods. “Call me when you get home, yes?”
With a promise that I will, I turn and head to the waiting vehicle.
“Hey,” I mutter once I’m inside and buckled up.
Sans acknowledgment, he hits the gas and peels off.
In the rearview mirror, Dom kicks at the ground and stares after the car. We met at a coworker’s birthday event and have been dating for a little over three months now. His rugged style and diluted French accent got my attention. His rebel charm kept me interested. For weeks, I teased and he chased. Until I agreed to casual dating. But once he learned I was a virgin, he began treating me like fine china, kept wanting to “wait” to do the deed. Like my V-card was some big prize when it was actually a nuisance.
When my coworker invited me to another event, a super private, super exclusive voyeur party, I suggested we go together. Told him it would be good for me to “see” what sex was like and get comfortable. But really, I just wanted to get laid, tired of being sexually inexperienced.
Once Dom had some alcohol in his system, relaxed and aroused by all the sex and exhibitionism around us, I dragged him off to a private room and coaxed him into going all the way with me.
But it was nothing like I thought it would be. Nothing about the act felt sexy or pleasurable. While Dom was clearly enjoying himself, it was all pain and discomfort for me. Unable to bear it anymore, I punched and shoved at his chest until he was off me.
