Chapter 22

22

Zara

F or the past two weeks, I’ve been lounging around Creed’s Park Avenue penthouse, bored out of my mind without any access to a phone or laptop. All I have is the television with every streaming app under the sun, and a digital photo frame that makes me sad every time I see my baby girl’s face without knowing when I’ll get to hold her in my arms again.

Oh, and I also now have a closet full of expensive clothes I’ll probably never wear, since Creed won’t let me leave the building.

That was a funny conversation with my husband when he told me he was going to have some clothes sent up for me. I said, “Finally. Although, I have gotten comfortable in just your jacket or tee. It’ll be nice to put on panties again.”

And his response? “Who said anything about panties?”

He did provide me with various undergarments, most of which are very lacy and sexy but not uncomfortable to wear .

He could’ve bought me two pairs of leggings, two tops, a few sports bras and a package of panties from Target, and I would’ve been happy to have a set of comfy clothes to wear while washing the other set.

Not that I’m allowed to do laundry, any cleaning, or cooking. There are daily staff who come and manage those chores. They all glare at me like I’m a threat to their positions whenever I offer to help.

Being waited on was nice the first week or so, but the longer I’m here, the more it reminds me of the months when I was spoiled and pampered, living in one of the Rovinas’ apartments before and while I was pregnant with Oriana. Until the evil assholes took my daughter and kicked me out on the street.

I can’t shake off the sense of dread that this little vacation as Creed Ferraro’s secret wife might end just as badly.

And each long day I go without seeing him, I worry that it’s one where Emilio succeeds in his next attempt on Creed’s life.

While there might not be any evidence of Emilio’s involvement in the club raid yet, I know he had a hand in it. Izaiah couldn’t tie his own shoes, much less try to take out the head of the mafia without significant help or acting on his father’s orders.

Creed has to know that much as well. Soon, I’m going to tell him the truth about Oriana’s father rather than let him go on assuming. But I’ve barely seen the don this week, and it feels like he’s avoiding me on purpose. I lie awake in bed, waiting until he finally comes in around midnight or so. Then he’s gone before I wake up the next morning.

Of course, I’m worried he’s distancing himself because he still doesn’t trust me. How can he after what happened to his brother?

If Creed trusted me, he’d let me use electronics by now. And he’d let me touch him since he’s reached those twenty-seven orgasms he promised me before it would be his turn.

One thing is for certain: if I can’t spend time with Creed, then I’ll never have the chance to earn his full trust before he’s sent off to prison.

That’s why I’ve decided I’ve had enough waiting around and am determined to seek out my husband tonight.

“Where’s Creed?” I ask the guards at the door. The two large, imposing men in suits both wince at my direct question but neither respond.

“Is he out? Is he in the building? Is he alive?” I huff.

“The boss is downstairs in his office in Omerta,” one of them finally remarks.

“Where is his office? Which floor?”

“Don’t,” the other, surlier guard warns the younger man.

“I’ll take her down and watch over her.”

“Really?” I say in surprise.

“Boss won’t like that.”

“Getting some ass will do the boss good,” he replies to his fellow bodyguard, then turns to me. “That is why you want to see him, right?”

I guess his guards assume we’re hooking up, since I live here now and sleep in his bed, even if they may not know we’re legally married yet. I wish those things were true. But Creed hasn’t even gone down on me in several days.

Not that I need him to or anything. And I do want to return the favor, dammit. Creed is the scariest, deadliest man I’ve ever met, and by far, the sexiest. But he won’t let me touch him.

“That’s exactly why I want to see him,” I assure the guards and myself. “Just give me a moment to change.”

Creed seemed to have a hard time resisting me when I only wear his suit jacket, so I slip into his closet and find one to throw on after removing my leggings and tee, along with my bra and underwear. Since I showered less than an hour ago, all that’s left is to run my fingers through my curls to untangle a few, and I’m ready .

It seems like it takes us three days on the elevator to get from the ninety-sixth floor to the thirty-sixth. The whole time, I have my arms wrapped around my waist to make sure the suit jacket keeps everything important covered.

“After you.” The guard waves his arm forward for me to exit the elevator first.

I do and find dozens of men playing cards or billiards, drinking at the bar, and milling about, staring at me, or more specifically, my attire. I begin to have second thoughts, wishing I had remembered that this place is also a literal boys only club.

I fidget with the jacket button, hugging myself tighter in it. “Maybe…maybe I shouldn’t bother him, you know, in case he’s busy.”

“He’ll be happy to see you.” The man steps off the elevator and lets the doors close behind him, removing one of my escape routes.

“How do you know that?” I ask. “What if you’re wrong, and he takes his anger out at you for bringing me down here?”

“Do you know how many women the boss has brought up to his penthouse?”

“Not sure if I want to know the answer to that question.”

“You’re the only one I’ve heard he’s been with in over a year,” he tells me anyway. Over a year? I doubt that. Then, he points straight ahead. “Down the hall past the check-in desk. You can’t miss his office, since it’s the big one on the left at the end of the hallway.”

“Oh. Okay. Thank you.” I head in that direction, if for no other reason than to get away from all the prying eyes of strangers.

I quickly bypass the man working the check-in desk, who barely gives me a glance.

All the lights are out in the rooms that I pass until I get to the last one on the left.

If I didn’t know he was the don of all dons, I’d assume the handsome man with his black dress shirt sleeves rolled up his arms, typing away on his laptop, was a successful businessman, catching up on his correspondence. The crease between his black eyebrows and his scowl makes me think that whatever he’s working on isn’t pleasant.

Before I can turn around and leave, he lifts his eyes and catches me standing in the doorway

“How did you get down here?” he snaps. I can’t tell by his tone if he’s happy surprised or angry surprised.

“The elevator,” I answer and attempt a small smile. Hopefully, my comment reminds him of a similar response he once gave me after I asked him how he got into my apartment, and he told me. “The window.”

Getting to his feet, Creed strolls around his giant wooden executive desk and approaches me, his jaw tight, eyes hard. He hooks one long finger into the V of the suit and gives it a tug to reveal the tops of my breasts all while holding my gaze. “Are you wearing anything underneath my jacket?”

“No.”

“Good.” He pulls me inside his office with that single finger until he can reach around to close the door. He turns the lock, sealing us alone inside.

Some of the tension leaves my shoulders as he crowds me back against the door. When I’m completely plastered to it, Creed braces his left palm next to my head. His nose brushes mine, and he peeks down the front of the buttoned jacket that his finger still holds open.

“My wife is so damn gorgeous,” he whispers down into the cavernous space. “I’ve always been an ass man, but these beauties?” Creed crouches down a few inches to swipe his hot, wet tongue over one swell, then the other. That’s all it takes to have me dripping wet. “I want to bury my face in these tits until I fucking suffocate.”

Dropping to his knees in front of me, his fingers quickly work to undo the two front suit buttons. I slump down a little, knowing exactly what he wants. As soon as he parts the two sides of the jacket, his mouth clamps down on my right breast.

“ Creed ,” I whimper. My mouth falls open on a gasp, and my eyes slam shut. My fingers sink into his long hair, holding his face to my chest. He licks, sucks, and gently bites down on my flesh as his palms grip my hips tight enough to leave bruises.

Sliding his hands up my ribs, he cups my breasts and squeezes them together. As he runs his tongue up the middle, his dark blue eyes lift to mine.

“Why are you avoiding me?” I blurt out the question because every second I’m near this man, I get even more confused about if he wants me or not.

Between kissing my breasts, he says, “I’m not just avoiding you…I’ve also been busy.” His admission doesn’t make me feel any better.

“Too busy to come upstairs or to bed until you’re ready to pass out?”

“I’ve been trying to keep my hands off you. It’s not fucking easy…”

“Sorry?” I mutter and maybe tug on his hair just a little harder.

“It’s not your fault that I want to fuck you so badly, I can’t be in the same room as you for more than five seconds. I barely sleep at night with you so close, smelling delicious. The ache I have for you keeps me awake for hours.”

“I don’t…I don’t understand.” If he wants me so badly, then why hasn’t he pounced on me yet? We’re freaking married. I don’t understand his holdup, other than it’s a trust issue.

“I’ve spent the past two weeks trying to figure out if Emilio was behind the raid and stalking each of the Rovina properties,” Creed tells me. “They’re all over Brooklyn, and a few in Manhattan. During the day, I’ve been watching them on my own or with Aldo or Lorenzo occasionally driving me, so I can try to get some work done on my laptop while we wait.”

“You’re still trying to find evidence that Emilio put Izaiah up to the raid?” I knew he was determined to get vengeance for his brother, but I had no idea he was obsessing over it day and night.

“I am. And I’ve been looking for Oriana.”

My daughter’s name coming from his lips stops my heart mid-beat, mostly because I’ve only said it a few times and can’t believe he even remembered it. “W-what?” Maybe I misheard him.

“It takes a few days to observe each property before I’m confident enough to cross it off the list and move on to the next. I don’t trust anyone else to look for her, or even know she exists, except for Dre and Tristan. So, I’ve been spending my days out on the streets of New York City and my nights either catching up on family business or avoiding ravaging you.”

“But…why?” I ask in confusion.

“I’m determined to return your daughter to your arms, Zara.”

I shake my head because it seems insane. I even tug on his hair to pull him back up to his feet. Having Creed Ferraro kneel before and offer to give me back my world is too ridiculous to be real.

But his stern face says he’s serious.

“No. It’s too dangerous. Emilio…he won’t let her out of the caretakers’ sight. And he may already want you dead because of what happened with Carmine, then Izaiah…”

“I can handle it. In fact, I think I’m getting pretty good at this kidnapping thing, since it worked out so well with you. I didn’t even need to use handcuffs to keep you from running off, which is a little disappointing if I’m being honest.”

“Creed…”

“I won’t get caught.”

“He’ll come after me if she goes missing,” I remind him. “So, how do you think this could ever work?”

“Because I typically don’t do anything without coming up with a flawless plan. Izaiah was the exception,” he says while slipping his hands underneath the hem of the jacket to grab my ass. “And while I wish I could lay you out on my desk and devour you right fucking now, Emilio is on his way here for a meeting.”

“Emilio…he’s coming here? R-right now?”

Creed removes one hand from my ass cheek to glance at his watch. “Any second.”

“Shit! He can’t see me here!”

“I know, micetta mia .”

I push Creed away and then begin to panic, wondering if I should try to make a run for the elevator or hide in the office under his desk.

“You can stay in here. I’ll wait for him in the lobby and take him to one of the conference rooms.”

“Okay. Okay.” I nod a little too much, not all that reassured by his words.

“He won’t know you’re here. I promise. He still doesn’t know we’re married either. I don’t want him to suspect I might try to come after Oriana for you,” Creed says as he grips my shoulders and places a kiss on my forehead.

“Okay,” I say, even if I am anything but okay.

“Emilio probably just wants to talk about wedding details.”

“Wedding details?” I repeat in confusion.

“Dre’s supposed to marry Stella before the end of the year.”

“Oh.”

Strolling over to his desk, Creed picks up his cell phone and starts back to the door. “I shouldn’t be long if you want to wait here for me.”

“You don’t think he knows, do you? About what we did to Izaiah or about you sitting outside the properties?”

“I guess we’re about to find out.” He reaches around me to open the door .

“Wait!” I grab his arm to stop him. “You need more men with you. Armed ones!”

“I don’t need any backup. I’ll be fine. He has to leave his weapons and phone at the front desk. Besides, I’m sure whoever brought you down is still waiting out there, right?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good. I’m glad you came down here tonight. When I get back…” he runs his thumb over my bottom lip, down the center of my chest to my stomach. “When I get back, I want to hear you scream my name at least three times.”

As soon as Creed slips out the door and shuts it behind him, I slide down the wooden panel and slap a hand over my mouth to keep quiet as tears fall.

Creed’s been putting his life on the line for me, for Oriana, and I haven’t even told him the truth.

If something happens to him…I’ll never forgive myself.

But no matter what, at least I know I’m finally free of that fucking man once and for all.

I’ll never have to endure having a Rovina’s hands on me again.

Creed won’t ever let him lay a finger on me.

I repeat those assertions to myself over and over again to try to calm myself.