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I’m something much, much worse.
Every time she whips her head around like that and turns away from me, she’s one step closer to realizing just how real monsters are.
Close. But not there yet.
I press my palm to the rod of iron in my pants, hissing through my teeth at the discomfort. It’s too soon. I want to savor that fiery temper she has a little longer before I shove my cock down her throat. I bet she’ll glare at me while she sucks it, too.
My eyes roll back. Fuck, that’s gonna be a pretty sight.
I follow Valentina down the shoreline, ignoring the wet sand clumping between our toes and on our ankles the longer we walk. The cool twilight air helps lessen my throbbing need for her, so I allow her to take her time and enjoy the moment. Soon enough, we’ll have to turn around and head back to the estate. Andrei is expecting her, and he can be a mean bastard when left waiting too long.
We walk in silence for another mile, those quick, little birds trotting across the sand our only company. She keeps her distance from me, which is fine, so long as she’s within grabbing distance.
I haven’t put it past her to run yet, even barefoot.
“Why did you bring me here?”
I barely hear her over the crashing waves and cawing gulls, so I use it as an excuse to stand closer. Brushing our shoulders together, I dip my head lower. “Come again?”
She sucks in her cheeks, and I quickly commit the stubborn defiance in her emerald eyes to memory.
Fucking delicious.
“You heard me.”
I did, and she called me out on it. I can’t keep the smile off my face. Not everyone’s so brazen, especially to a made man. My smile quickly fades, however, as we come to the answer of her question.
“This place...” I run a hand through my hair and gaze out at the horizon, watching the fading sunlight disappear like sand slipping through an hourglass.
I’ve never brought anyone here before. It’s a public beach, so it’s not like it’s mine. I don’t own the beach. Still, despite the dozens of properties I keep across the city, this place is my favorite out of every single one.
As I ponder my answer, Valentina watches me. A warm sensation rolls down my spine. I like how it feels to be watched by the very woman I’ve been staring at every possible second. A small smile flickers across my face for the briefest moment.
And then, once again, it dies. “When things get tough, or there are too many thoughts rattling around my skull, I come here.”
The sun finally bids farewell and dips beneath the ocean surface. The temperature instantly drops, and any remaining beachgoers start moving with haste to retreat indoors to safety and warmth.
But things like safety and warmth aren’t guaranteed, no matter where you are. Not at home. Not at work. Not in the arms of a lover.
Safety is a feeling, a false sense of security.
This place brings me as close to safety as I can get.
Valentina waits patiently for me to continue. I’m not sure I have anything more to say. But I did promise to teach her the rules of the game, and while I have her attention, perhaps it’s best she learns something, after all.
I draw a deep breath and decide to jump straight to the heart of Valentina’s pain — the reason we’re here at the beach in the first place. “Do you know why your mother doesn’t have a grave?”
Valentina visibly jumps, like a crab just pinched her toes. It’s cute, but if I smile now, she’ll hate me for it.
She bundles up as best she can in her sweater, closing in on herself in an instant. I know she’s cold, but she’s not that cold.
“Because my father was a cruel man,” she murmurs softly, her eyes flicking up from where her ankles are sinking in the sand to latch on to something more solid and permanent. Like me.
Her eyes search mine for answers, like she wants me to tell her that he wasn’t a cruel bastard.
Too bad. He was fucking vindictive.
I nod. “He was. But that’s not why he refused to bury your mother.”
