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I sigh, unsure of what to do, but my mother’s words scrawled in her pretty writing run through my mind.
Sometimes you have to trust who you think is the devil to win your way into heaven.
She’d said it about trusting in Arturo, trusting him to help her find her way out of the marriage with Shane. About trusting the plan he had put together for her to run to him would work, that we could be a family.
It would have worked if it wasn’t for Johnny and Carmine. She trusted the right devil. He just got taken down before he could let her into heaven. So I go with my gut, praying that my mother's spirit is pushing me to where I need to be.
“Why didn’t you say something from the start? You knew who I was in the beginning. You could have told Paulie, ended this before it even started.”
“I told you. Paulie is trouble. And Paulie was interested in you.”
“Interested? Like he wanted to fuck me?” He looks at me but doesn’t answer. “I’m a big girl, Dante. I can handle myself against fucking Paulie.” He sighs, exhaustion in the sound.
“I am doing everything in my power to keep you safe, Delilah. Do you know what happens when a man like my nephew shows interest in a woman like you?”
“Is it like what happens when a man like you shows interest in me? Late, secret nights when you’re gone before I wake up? Fucking stalking me, lies upon lies upon lies? Is it blowing out my tire and then bumping into me in a grocery store and then showing up at my house for two weeks straight? Never even telling me who you really are? Letting me spill my secrets, tell you about my family, without doing the same? Is that what happens when a man like that shows interest in me?”
Something snaps in his eyes, and he moves me, using the hand in my hair to turn me and press me to the wall of the office. His hand moves to my throat, pressing me against the wall. I can’t tell if it’s to shut me up or to scare me, but both happen.
“No, Delilah. That is a man obsessed. A man who saw what was made for him and recognized it and is doing what he has to do to secure it as his own. To keep what is his safe.”
“I’m not yours.”
“The fuck you aren’t, Delilah.” He tightens his grip on my neck, forcing my eyes to meet his. “You look me in the eyes and tell me that you don’t feel it. That pull. You were fucking made to be mine.”
There’s some kind of truth serum in his touch that, when combined with the way he’s looking at me, I can’t deny.
So I don’t.
But I don’t agree either.
Long gone are my days of being the appeasable, friendly blonde daughter of Shane Turner.
That person died in a hospital room in Ocean View.
“What if that pull is because you were made for me? Why do I have to be the possession?”
“You’ve possessed me since the day I saw you. You want me to get on my knees and serve my queen right here, I fucking will. You want me to be yours? It’s done.”
I stare at him, this man who has never had to kneel for a single person in his entire life, a life where for most of it, he knew he would be ruling, or at least close to it.
A prince.
An inevitable king.
“Kneel for me,” I whisper, not even recognizing my voice.
My heart is racing.
And then he does.
Not moving his eyes from mine, he slowly lowers to his knees while I lean against the wall, my breathing heavy.
His hands move up my bare thighs, goosebumps following in their wake until they’re at the top of my stretchy shorts. Fingers move under the waistband, running along the length of them, over and over, back and forth, as I gasp, trying to catch my breath.
A thumb hooks into the waist, then the other thumb follows before slowly, torturously slowly, he starts to lower them down my hips, to my knees. One hand taps my ankle gently, and I lift. He takes away the shorts, then repeats the process on the other leg until I’m bare from the waist down.
His warm hand moves from the strap of my heel around my ankle, up, up until it hits the underside of my knee where it wraps around and lifts, placing the spiked heel on his shoulder until I’m entirely open to him, my pussy spread in his face.
