Page 6 of Owned
"Yes. But you'll wear this." I pull a silk scarf from my pocket, a pattern of deep blues and greens that will complement her eyes. "And sunglasses. Your father has undoubtedly reportedyou missing by now. Your face will be all over the news. We can't have anyone recognizing you."
The thought seems to terrify her, but also excites her a little. A small adventure in the middle of her captivity.
An hour later, we're winding down the steep path from the villa to Positano's main street in a small, open-topped sports car. Elena is silent beside me, her head turned to take in the stunning views, the scarf tied around her hair, and oversized dark glasses hiding most of her face. She looks like a movie star trying to go incognito, and she's happy to stay with her hand resting on my forearm. The fact that she doesn't try to run is just another bit of proof that she's glad to be away from the fate Laurent had decided for her.
It might be the first time in my life I've been the lesser of two evils. The thought makes me grin.
We shop, and I buy Elena anything and everything she admires before we head to my tailor to have her measured for the more formal pieces. Afterwards we share lunch and gelato, and it’s peaceful enough that I can almost fool myself that we’re a normal couple. That I’m not a monster, but simply a man.
Almost.
It's justpast 7pm when I make it back home. My blood has been running hot since the moment I first laid eyes on Elena, and the time away has given me the space to get control of myself again. But when I see Elena waiting for me at the dining table, wearingone of the sun dresses I bought for her, I feel out of control all over again.
What sort of spell is this woman casting? I've never felt this way about anyone or anything. It goes beyond lust and dives headfirst into obsession.
She looks up at me from her seat expectantly, hands folded in her lap, but she can't hide her blush. I know she chose this dress for me. She knows how good she looks in it. The soft, pale yellow fabric drapes over her curves, the thin straps leaving her shoulders bare. I want to trace them with my tongue. I want to peel that dress right off her body.
I take the seat opposite her. "I trust you had a restful afternoon."
"I did," she says, her voice a little breathless. "Maria showed me where everything is. The house is...stunning."
"It's been in my family for generations. My father loved it here."
The mention of my father seems to pique her interest. "What was he like?"
"He was a good man," I say, but the words feel inadequate. "Better than me." I don't mention that my father was the one who walked away from the Cosa Nostra, who tried to build a legitimate life, a legacy for me, only to have it all stolen by her father. She knows, and there's no reason to pour salt into the wound when she is innocent of her father's wrongdoings.
"And your mother?"
"Dead. A long time ago."
A flicker of sympathy crosses her face, "Mine too." The simple statement hangs in the air between us.
But I don't want to talk about the sad, dark things that haunt our pasts. I want to talk about what happens now that she's mine. I let the subject fade, and ask her instead about the wine, the food, and feel satisfaction when she has nothing but good things to say about it all. I know she must be dying to ask about who is looking for her, or when she can return to her old life, but something is holding her back. That's for the better, though.
Elena thinks she's living in limbo, but little does she know, I want all of this to be forever.
After we each have a piece of chocolate torte, I stand and offer her my hand. She looks at it with surprise, but slowly places her smaller hand in my palm. Each hour that passes, there is less fear in her eyes. By the end of tonight, I want as little trepidation as possible, and a hell of a lot more heat. I’ve seen little flashes of her attraction to me but she always quickly buries them, looks away or changes the topic, but that’s enough for me to work with. More than enough.
I might be a scary bastard sometimes, but I'm confident I can dredge up some romance from my black heart for her.
"Let's take a walk," I tell her, pulling her to her feet. Elena doesn't say anything, but she lets me lead her out the back door and down the wooden stairs that hug the cliff side and end at the beach.
We walk quietly for some time, her hand finds mine. Effortlessly. Naturally. The water is calm, the waves gentle, and Elena looks like a siren that has just stepped from the sea. We stop at the same time, looking out into the distance, and when she leans against me, it's all the permission I need.
Slowly, giving her ample time to pull away, I gently grip the back of her neck and turn her to face me, coaxing her closer. "You're beautiful, Elena Moreau."
She inhales sharply, "You shouldn't say that. We barely know each other, and I..." she trails off, pink tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip.
"Why not? It's the truth." I bring my lips closer to hers. "Does it scare you to know that I want you?"
Her heart is beating wildly against my chest, "I..."
"Tell me you feel it too. That this thing between us isn't just one-sided."
She moves like she is underwater, slowly, likely overthinking everything she does. But I can be patient with her. Finally, she places her hands flat on my chest, looking up at me through her lashes, "You're right. It isn't one-sided. I just--"
Not giving her time to talk herself in circles, I cup her jaw and kiss her. Elena lets out a small, surprised sound, and then she's melting into me, her hands gripping my shirt for dear life as I gather her against my body. She's all softness and sweet smells, and when I swipe my tongue over the seam of her lips, she hesitantly opens for me and lets me truly taste her mouth.
