37. Trilby

T rilby

The gates open slowly, bringing the Di Santo residence into full view. My heart skips about like the butterflies that have taken up permanent residence in my stomach.

Sera puts a foot on the brake and turns to face me. "Do you want me to wait for you?"

"No, it's okay." I smile. "I'm sure Cristiano or one of his men will take me home after I've collected the clothes."

After much pestering on his part, I've finally come to collect the closet Cristiano bought for me. Though the pestering wasn't so much about collecting the clothes—it was more about having me move in with them. With him . But, as per the marriage proposal, I've been changing the subject. Not because I don't want to do those things—because, actually, I want nothing more than to move in with Cristiano, to marry him, and to build a life with him—but because it feels a little too much like we're dancing on Savero's grave.

Despite the fact he was an evil son of a bitch, it's too soon.

"Anyway, you must be exhausted after letting me drag you around all the galleries today."

"Nonsense. It was my idea, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, well, who can blame me for accepting your invitation when I'm about to lose you to the Hamptons for the next school year?"

"I'm not going yet. I have another month."

"Then there are many more gallery visits in our future." I smile. "How did you manage to secure a placement so quickly?"

Sera eyes me suspiciously.

"It's not a trick question," I clarify.

"No ..." She shakes her head. "It's just ... I thought you knew."

"Knew what?"

"Cristiano arranged it. One of his former casino managers runs one of the big country clubs. He put a word in for me."

"He did?" My eyebrows inch up toward my hairline. "He kept that quiet."

Sera takes my hand and gives it a small squeeze. "There's a lot he's been keeping quiet. He's helping Tess get into the dance school she wants, he's upgrading the security at the port, he's had Allegra's car fixed. But it's not for us—it's all for you."

I fall back against the headrest. "Why hasn't he told me any of this?"

"He doesn't want to overwhelm you," she replies in her lovely soft voice. "That happily ever after we all want? He's already there, Tril. He's just patiently waiting for you to catch up to him. He doesn't want to scare you away."

"He just killed his own brother. If I were going to run away scared, I think I'd be long gone by now."

She smiles sweetly. "Then what are you waiting for?"

I breathe out slowly. "I don't know."

After she's driven away, I turn to look at the grand house that, not so long ago, was going to be mine. I take in the white weatherboards, the wraparound porch, the beautiful gardens. It's even more beautiful now only Cristiano is in it.

I walk up to the main door and press the bell. I expect to see a staff member, so I'm taken aback when Cristiano himself opens the door.

My breath escapes at the sight of him in a white button-up with rolled-up sleeves and a pair of slacks, sending the butterflies in my stomach fluttering in more of a frenzy.

"Hi," I whisper.

A smile tugs at his lips. "Hi to you."

We stand on the porch and stare at each other. Then he leans forward and presses a long, warm kiss to my mouth. When he pulls away, I'm lightheaded.

His gaze burrows under my skin, into my bones, heating every inch of me. "I missed you."

"You only saw me yesterday," I say, arching a brow.

"So? I still fucking missed you."

I look past him into the house. "It's quiet. Where is everyone?"

He shrugs. "A few people left after ... well, you know." He turns around, and I follow.

"After you killed and carved up your brother? Yeah, I can imagine that isn't to everyone's taste."

He laughs, and it makes my skin tingle.

"There's no point in me hiring more staff right now anyway."

"Oh?"

He pauses to look over his shoulder. "Well, I'd expect the new lady of the house to do that."

My heart beats loudly in my ears. "Uh-huh."

I follow him through to the lobby, where the staircase rises. "I had it put in the east wing," he says. "Come find me when you're done. I'll make dinner." His fingers find mine and curl around them. My breath escapes me at the simple, unexpected gesture.

"I will."

He leaves a feathery trail along my fingertips then leaves me to climb the stairs. I try not to picture the last time I was at the top of them, but the terror of that night is still fresh in my mind. The memory of Savero standing over me with his hand around my throat, threatening my life, is so clear I can feel it. It doesn't matter that he's dead now—it brought home to me just how vulnerable I really am. I grew up with a lot of bravado. I lost it after Mama died, but it was always inside of me, itching to emerge.

The only times I've felt safe since she passed have been in Cristiano's arms.

I sigh heavily and turn the door handle. Then I have to blink, because I'm not sure what I'm seeing.

The door swings inward, and I shake my head, trying to figure out what's in front of me. I haven't been back to the apartment since this morning, so why does it look like I'm back there right now?

I walk over to the antique console that sits in the hallway and rest my purse on it. Then I look around at the plant pots, the paintings I've thrifted from flea markets and vintage fairs, and the shoes normally laid out on the floor of my closet. I frown at the rows and rows of clothes that look alarmingly familiar, the easel and the paints, the pieces of art I've created over the past few years ...

I don't understand.

But then again, I do.

This isn't just the closet Cristiano bought me when I was staying in his apartment. This is all my stuff .

A soft knock sounds at the door.

"Um, yeah?" I murmur.

I hear the door open and close behind me, and even though I haven't turned around, his presence fills the room.

"What is this?" I whisper.

"I thought you might want to feel at home."

"This isn't my home."

"It can be, Trilby. Just say the word."

"I ... I'm confused. How is all my stuff here?"

"The last time I asked you to move in, I didn't get the answer I wanted, so I'm not asking again. You know what they say—it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission."

I turn around and stare at him wide-eyed. "You ... you want me to move in with you?"

Cristiano draws his hands from his pockets and stalks toward me. He invades my space, breathing heavily, and lifts my chin up until my eyes reach his. "How many different ways do I have to say it, Trilby? I want you to be my wife. That generally means I'd like you to live under the same roof as me."

I blink at him numbly.

"And I know how fucking weird you are about your closet, so I figured, let's just get everything here, and then you won't have to worry about it."

"But ... how?" My head is spinning. He would have needed a small army to move all this stuff in just a few hours.

"It doesn't matter." His voice softens. "What matters is it's here. And you're here. That's all I care about. Everything else, we can deal with together, all right?"

I nod, words eluding me for the first time ever.

He bows his head toward me, and I smell toothpaste, fresh sweat, and musky dust. That's what transporting antique furniture and vintage clothes does to you. "Now, after the calamity that was the collapsing hospital bed, can I please fuck you?"

I rise up onto my tiptoes and brush my lips over his. "I thought you'd never ask."

We launch for each other, grabbing at one another's skin, hair, and clothing. I want to feel him everywhere.

"Are you mine?" he murmurs into my mouth.

I nod.

He grabs my hair in his fist. "Are you mine ?"

I gasp. "I couldn't be anyone else's."

"Yes, you could." His tone is gritty. "You could belong to anyone you wanted. Don't think I haven't seen the way other men drool over you. The way they can't take their eyes off you."

I coast my fingers through his hair and grip it like he's gripping mine. "Those other men?" I stare into his eyes and mean every word. "They fell for my smile. But you?"

His eyes search mine.

"You fell for my tears."

He stares at me for a long moment. Then he releases my hair and drops onto my lips with a grievous moan.

My eyes drift shut as Cristiano lowers me to a rug that only this morning was laid on my bedroom floor. He straddles me on his hands and knees and stares at me with dark eyes. I lick my lips, and he emits a low growl before shifting his feet downward. He hooks a leg and props it up, then he licks a hot, wet line from my ankle to the crease of my knee. It's slow and torturous, when all I want is him inside me—now. I didn't dare believe it would happen again, so now that it is happening, I can't wait any longer.

His lips skitter over my upper leg, his hot breath curling my toes. Then he's inching his way toward the apex of my thighs.

"Cristiano ... please ..." I need to feel him inside of me. It's a need I don't have the words for.

He lifts his head, a frown line creasing his brow. "You're trying to stop me from eating you out?"

I nod, but before I can explain myself, his brows knit together, and a low growl erupts from somewhere in his chest.

"What the actual fuck Trilby? I'm starving for you, and I didn't fight my way to the top of the food chain to be a vegetarian."

Breath rushes out of my lungs. Well, fuck .

He pushes my knees outward, and I curl my fists. His molten breath drifts across my panties, and his tongue darts out to tease at the lace.

"Please don't rip another pair," I whisper hoarsely. "French lace doesn't grow on trees."

He pauses and smiles against my pussy. "It does in my garden." Then he gnashes his teeth over the strip of lace and tears it clean off my body. Cool air whips across my damp skin, making me shudder, before his whole mouth covers me, hot and wet and ravenous .

My fingers find his hair and tug at it mindlessly while he makes an actual meal out of my clit. A long lick is followed by a taut suck, then he circles his tongue around the hardening nub, making me squirm. He presses his hands into my thighs, exposing more of me to him—more that he can devour. Unanchored whimpers and moans escape my mouth, and I toss my head from side to side.

"That's it, little one. See what happens when you stop fighting me?" he taunts in between sucks.

Ugh, just don't stop.

"Please, Cristiano . . ."

"Yes, baby?" He laps at my clit as though he's licking an ice cream, seemingly oblivious to the mess I'm becoming.

"Please make me come."

"With pleasure." He wraps his lips around me and rims my entrance with soft thumbs while he sucks hard.

The room turns white as my spine arches, and I push my hips up to him. He hums triumphantly as I come apart beneath him.

I pull my heavy head up to see him drag the back of his hand across his mouth. Like a predator about to devour its prey, he crawls up to me, and his cock finds its way to my entrance.

I suck in a breath. Despite having an orgasm my first time, it still hurt.

He pushes his way in by a couple of inches. My body wants to hyperventilate.

"Look at me." His commanding voice anchors my thoughts, and I lift my gaze to his. "I want to see your face when I fill you with my cock."

His words send a ripple of lust through my bones, and I pull my knees in toward myself. He takes one in his hand and presses it into my shoulder. Pain radiates out from my hip, distracting me from the feel of his cock sliding in to my very edge.

Now I can feel him in my stomach.

His gaze doesn't waver, but his jaw has hardened like steel. "You take every. Single. Inch of me, Trilby." His voice is filled with wonder. "You wrap around me so tight. So warm. So fucking perfect."

He lowers his lips and kisses me slowly. I silently thank God that Cristiano's doing all the work, because I'm immobile.

He pulls my bottom lip between his teeth and draws back, letting it pop out gently. "Do you need me to take it slow?"

I swallow and nod. "Can you?"

"I can do whatever you need me to do."

He lowers his elbows to the floor and presses kisses to the corner of my mouth as he begins to move. At first it feels like a freight train is trying to pass through my body, but as my walls soften and allow him space, it gets easier. It gets ... nice .

Little gasps are pushed out of my lungs with each gentle thrust. I look up to see his jaw clenched tight.

"Kiss me," I whisper.

He lets out a fractured groan and complies, catching my lips in a restless dance.

"God, you feel incredible," he murmurs. "Just fucking incredible."

He ignites that place within me that turns me inside out, and from here on, I'm an unraveling mess.

I'm right on that edge, ready to tip over, when he stills, removing the friction I need to chase to put an end to this pressure. I claw my gaze to his, and he's looking at me with devious intent.

"Marry me."

I blink. Did I just hear him right?

"Marry me, damn it."

I suck in a breath. "What? That's blackmail."

He pants as though it's taking every ounce of his strength to hold back. His voice is tight. "It's only blackmail if there's something in it for me. I'm dying of blue balls over here."

"I'm not being coerced into marriage."

His hands are balled into fists, buried in the rug, and his upper arms are starting to shake.

"No one's coercing you, Trilby. I want you ..."

I arch my brows.

"I love you. I want you to be my wife, for fuck's sake."

My entire body smiles even though he's in agony right now. Wife. Not sister. Wife.

"Yes," I whisper.

"What?" His teeth are clenched, and the veins at the side of his face are thick and throbbing.

"I said yes. I will marry you."

He collapses onto me and begins moving again, but this time it's slow and just overwhelming enough.

"God, woman ," he drawls.

I've never been so pleased to hear that word fall from his lips.

He litters my face with a million kisses and whispers soft curses and no-sweet-about-it nothings. "You've had it now. Oh fuck, this is good. I'm going to screw you like this every night. Jesus, this is unreal. You're a fucking heathen. I can't get enough of you, little one."

And my favorite one of all: "Be careful what you wish for, Castellano. I'm going to worship you for the rest of my life."

I sigh into his skin as I get closer to that edge. "What are you going to call me when I'm no longer a Castellano?"

"That's easy." He looks up with dark, dangerous eyes. "My queen."