Page 62 of The Diávolos: Part One
My thoughts immediately turn to Angelica, and I’m seriously starting to wonder if something is wrong with me. She’s always on my mind, images of her face, smile, and body flashing before my eyes. This time, something like worry consumes me because of the new revelations I learned today. I need to get to the bottom of it for my uncle and her. I’m her protector, and if anyone hurts her, they’re going to face my wrath, regardless of who they are.
After a few minutes of standing there in silence, I finish the cigarette, flick it on the ground, and get back in my car. I shut the door and grip the steering wheel hard, making my knuckles turn white as memories of her resurface. The feeling of her skin is branded on my fingertips. The smell and taste of her dominate my senses.
When did I lose my mind?
She has no idea what she’s getting into. When I first started this whole plan, I had no intention of wanting her. No intention of really calling her mine. I need her to make mefeel. I crave to steal her breath away and remind her that the only name she will be screaming from now on is mine. She will fall in love with me, be my wife. There’s no doubt about that. But my brain can’t seem to figure out how to make my plan still work while obsessing over her.
I need to get her out of my system the only way I know how. I have to get rid of this burning obsession. It might open the floodgates to what I’ve been dreading the most—my feelings—but the incessant urge to claim her consumes me. I’m going to fuck her into oblivion, and hopefully, that will ease my compulsions.
My phone rings and I don’t check the caller ID before I pick up, knowing exactly who it would be. I’m surprised it took him this long.
It was only a matter of time.
“Gianis,” I answer.
* * *
The dreaded day has come.
I gaze at my reflection in the mirror. I clean up nice. I fix my tie and smooth down the jacket of my all-black tailored suit. I shake out my arms to straighten out my sleeves, and a lingering ache settles in my injured shoulder. My gunshot wound has almost completely healed, but the pain is still present and will be for weeks. Today is the first day I get to remove my arm brace and that’s cause for celebration.
I glance at my phone on the dresser in my walk-in closet, but there are no notifications. Angelica hasn’t texted me. I haven’t heard from her all day.
It’s been over a week since we last saw each other, but I’ve been keeping a close eye on her, staying up to date with what she’s been doing and where she’s been going.
I’ve been busy catching up on my affairs, having missed so much while I was recovering, and she’s been absorbed in Aria’s engagement party preparations. So, we haven't seen each other since that night in her room. I can’t deny this emptiness I feel. I miss the smell of her hair, the feeling of her skin, and her big doe eyes.
I sent her peonies every day and watched from the security feed as she opened the door and found each bouquet on her porch, the glow on her face obvious. She’s aware that I’m watching her. Each time, she’d greet me, not by looking up at the cameras, but by wearing outfits, each one skimpier than the last, exposing her soft cleavage and allowing me to see down her shirt. Or dresses so short I could see the edge of her sweet ass popping out the bottom when she bent over to pick up the vases. She was putting on a show for the devil and she knew it.
She’s playing with fire, and soon, she’s going to burn.
I put the phone in my pocket and grunt at the wave of disappointment I feel. Dion should be meeting me at my penthouse any moment to head to the engagement party.
Tonight might be the make or break moment of my relationship with Angelica.
Tonight will be the night that Dion sees his girl officially off the market.
Dion and I thought long and hard about what to tell Angelica as my reason for being there, and we couldn’t come up with anything of substance. I’ll have to let my charm and good luck improvise on the spot. I rub my forehead, already feeling the stress of what’s to come.Fuck, I’m going to regret this.
I haven’t stopped thinking about her. The sound of her voice calling my name as she climaxed still makes my dick hard every time that I think about it.
I take a step back from the mirror, hating the tightness that the thought of her causes in my chest, and I try to focus on my motive.
But it’s to no avail, as my longing for her has no limit.
She’s my drug and I’m fucking addicted.
I hear my front door open, and I walk into my living room to see Dion reaching for the bottle ofouzoin the bar cart.
“I didn’t know it was that kind of night,” I joke.
Dion doesn’t look amused as he grabs two shot glasses out of the cabinet and pours two drinks.
“I’ve spent the whole day trying to figure out how to avoid tonight and the best I could come up with is to get drunk and pretend I was never there,” he says glumly, passing me a shot glass. We clink them together and shoot theouzoback, the burn down our throats making us grimace. Dion grabs the bottle and pours some more.
“You’ve got it bad, bro,” I say.
“You have no fucking idea,” he replies.
