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“What about you?” I smile provocatively from my position on the floor, my legs up on the bench crossed at the ankles, completely naked except for the diamond necklace he insisted on me wearing while he fucked me.
“I’ll grab something on the go.”
“You’re leaving?” Now I’m anxious and pull myself up, reaching for a silk robe that we robbed of its tie.
“Just work, baby. I have a meeting arranged at my casino. I won’t be late, but I’ll leave you well guarded. Enjoy the rest while you can get it. I’m keen to carry on with this closet warming party on my return.”
He grins and heads out of the door, leaving me with an emptiness inside that I wasn’t expecting. However, as I glance around the white marbled interior of a room fit for a princess, a warm tingle spreads through me. It feels like home.Hefeels like home and if this is going to work, I need to make this my home.
* * *
It takesme another hour to clean up, shower and then pull on some sweatpants and a sweatshirt, pushing my feet into sliders and heading off to find Gretchen. There’s no need to dress up, so I may as well be comfortable.
Wandering the hallway of Dom’s fabulous mansion is an experience I never thought I’d be doing, and I stare in awe at the amazing art and objects that decorate a space that must have cost millions to produce.
I’ve always been impressed with history. I’m not sure where this love of mine came from. Probably because I have been surrounded by it all my life. I grew up in a house much like this one. The Matasso mansion, where my father served his master well and was rewarded with an apartment for his family. It turns out the Don had an ulterior motive where that was concerned, and the knowledge that he shared an intimacy with my mother is a difficult memory to deal with.
I used to listen to the arguments through the walls. The sounds of crying and pleas that I always thought were down to my father. I never believed for one second that it was my mother who was the cause. Then again, surely my father must have known. Did he turn the other way and pretend it wasn’t happening?
There are so many answers I need from him, but the most important one is why he abandoned us? He should have been better than that, and yet he wasn’t.
The anger tightens like a ball of bad memories inside me, and I prepare to fling it at my father if I ever get the chance.
But not now. Not today because today is the beginning of the rest of my life with Domenico Ortega.
I never thought I’d bethatwoman. The one who accepted this life and craved it, even. That was always my sister and yet are we so different. I fucking hope we are because if I turn out anything like her, I may as well end it now before someone does it for me.
The fact she is walking around with a target on her back doesn’t concern me in the slightest. If anything, I hope they get a direct hit because that woman deserves it. In fact, the more painful the better when I think back on what she put me through the past few years.
With a sigh, I push everything away as I head into the kitchen to find the housekeeper, Gretchen. Apart from her curious glances when she serves us, I have yet to make her acquaintance.
She stares up as I enter the room and smiles curiously.
“Hi, um, Gretchen. I’m sorry, but Mr. Ortega told me to ask you if there is anything I can grab to eat.”
I smile because I’m more nervous about meeting her than I would have believed, and yet she just smiles kindly and nods to the stool set against the marble countertop.
“Of course, I’ll fix you a sandwich, or would you prefer something hot? Neither is too much trouble.”
“A sandwich will be lovely, thank you.”
As I perch on the edge of the stool, she regards me with a fascinated curiosity, which makes me squirm a little before she laughs. “I’m sorry, my dear. I’ve made you uncomfortable. It’s just that you’re the first woman I’ve ever met here.”
“Seriously?” I stare at her in astonishment, and she shrugs. “Mr. Ortega doesn’t like guests.”
“But the Gala?”
I’m confused and she shrugs. “Once a year, he opens his door to keep the men that run this town happy. He raises money for charity but never stays longer than an hour, leaving Pasquale to deal with the guests on his behalf.”
“So, he’s a recluse then.” I chuckle, causing her to smile.
“I suppose you could call him that.” She begins preparing the sandwich and I say with curiosity, “Have you worked for him long?”
“Two years. He’s a good employer. He pays well and keeps out of my way, so I have no complaints.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” I smile and then picture the dungeon that’s not far away and wonder if she knows about that and his dark preferences.
“I guess he works from here, too.” I know I’m prying and regret it when her face falls. “I don’t know anything about his work, Miss…”
