Читать книгу Serpent Sting - Toni Grant - Страница 12

CHAPTER 5

27 January

Ibiza, Balearic Islands

It was hot. Steamy hot like it was about to storm. And as the moon chased the sun, the air remained thick and damp.

The sprawling Spanish villa, traditionally styled with large passageways and tiled floors, caught every small breeze and directed it through the interior. Rooms led seamlessly from whitewashed arches. Moorish pendant lights lit the passageways in a soft glow.

Central to the home, a wide stairwell connected the ground-floor living areas to private quarters. Colourful hand-painted tiles decorated each rise of the deep, gently curved steps.

Nicholas left the exterior doors and windows open, encouraging the sea air to fill his masculine space. In the busy household, he relished the cool sanctity and privacy of his bedroom suite.

Laughter drifted upwards from the outdoor swimming pool. Paul and Luciana were playing Marco Polo.

“Polo!” he yelled cheekily from the open window. Luciana spun on the spot, eyes jammed shut as she tried to locate the distant voice.

“Nicholas!” she chided, opening her eyes at last. “That’s not fair! You’re not even playing!”

He laughed. “And that’s cheating Luciana. You can’t open your eyes!”

He ducked back inside smiling lazily at his good fortune.

Not so far away, the nightclub scene was gearing up. He’d sample the offerings again tonight, after his commitments were done. Not that Nicholas was complaining about his holiday being interrupted by work.

He was expected to participate and learn. As always with Silvio, work, pleasure and family time intertwined.

But there would be no work tonight. Today was Francesca’s birthday. Family time. And long after the dinner celebrations, Nic would return to the exclusive club filled with the pretty, rich and bored.

Shower, shave, sex. Nicholas turned towards the en-suite.

Movement caught his eye. In amazement, he watched as the bed sheet moved again and a tiny curl of auburn hair peeked from the top.

“Francesca?” Nicholas strode to the bundle. “Is that you?” Pushing aside the fabric, he squatted next to the figure, brushing the wayward curls away from tear-stained cheeks. “Hey. Hey. What’s happened my flower?”

“I didn’t know what to do. I just knew I had to come to you.” Francesca sobbed.

“Of course. Tell me what’s happened. We can’t have you upset on your holidays.” Nicholas wrapped his arm around her, pulling her against him as they propped against the wall.

“Will you get mad? I mean they are your friends. I just don’t understand.” She looked into his face and he smiled, patting her forearm reassuringly.

“They said they had a special 15th birthday present for me, that they were going to take me to a special place that you go to and they were going to show me something there. I said ok.” Francesca stilled, searching her friend’s face for permission to continue. He nodded.

“Well when I got there, Giuliett said to be part of the group I had to do this thing and that all the girls had done it and it made you happy.”

Nicholas searched her face, his mind racing as to what Giuliett Seta was specifically talking about.

“The place was at the back of the garden, with the tall trees and the rocky platform, and you can see the ocean from there too. It’s really beautiful. They said, ‘Sit here,’ so I did. And then they came at me.” Francesca burst into tears.

“What do you mean, Francesca?”

“They came at me. They held me down by my legs and hands and then they starting rubbing their hands up and down my legs. They held my legs apart by the ankles and the knees. One girl tried to put her hand under my dress and I kicked her but they kept doing it.”

Nicholas held his breath. “What happened next?”

“Well, they all laughed and I tried to stand up. I said this is not what Nicholas wants. And two girls pushed me to the ground and sat on me. This is exactly what Nicholas wants, they said.”

“Sat on you?”

“Yes, like this.” Francesca pushed Nicholas to the floor, straddled him and pressed herself firmly against his crotch. Nicholas felt the warmth of her against him as her short dress slid higher along bronzed thigh. He held his breath.

“They held my arms out wide each side, like a cross. Like this.” She bent low and forward from her hips, spreading his arms to the side. Nicholas breathed the floral scent escaping the valley between her breasts. Dior. He took another deep, deliberate breath of her. Dior blended with the smell of the ocean.

Nicholas moved his head slightly towards her determined face. Every detail on the bodice of that pretty white dress, every stitch, every undone tortoiseshell button filled his view. And as it peeled open for him, rounded breasts pressed against a black and white striped bikini top.

Honey-coloured skin speckled with sand. Glorious, shimmering sprinkles of gold pressed into that smooth skin. As she crouched back to sit upon him, his breath traced the cup of her breast. His lips brushed against her nipple. He watched it harden and spring forward towards him. He gently touched it a second time. She was killing him! She settled back on his groin, pressing hard against him.

His arms remained outstretched. Francesca studied his position and met his eyes with a satisfied look. “Yes, that’s exactly the way they laid me out,” she said.

“What happened next?” He was almost too afraid to ask.

“Then they took turns at teasing me.”

“How?” he croaked.

“They said, ‘She’s a virgin. Let’s get her ready.’ They kept saying things like that.” Francesca lowered her voice. “Then they all circled my breasts with their fingers. Like this.” Slowly her fingers ran around her breasts in a figure eight. She grabbed his hand to do the same.

Nicholas watched her pulse catch at her throat. Francesca pressed his hands flat against her, covering her breasts.

“I screamed, ‘Get away from me,’” Francesca continued, releasing her hold on him. His arms fell to rest on her thighs.

“The girls all laughed and climbed all over me. I screamed again and they said, ‘Francesca, no one will hear you here. That’s why Nicholas loves this place. When we scream out his name, only the wind and the ocean can hear.’ Is that true Nicholas? Do you take girls there? Do you want to hurt them? Why do you want to make them scream?”

“Yes, I do take them to that place, but never to hurt them, Francesca. We’re all willing partners, I can assure you.” Nicholas paled. “Did these girls do anything else?”

“Yes.” Francesca lowered her eyes. Nicholas lifted her chin gently to face him.

“Tell me, love. Francesca, it’s important that I know everything that happened.” He spoke tenderly, easing her into the difficult subject.

Francesca frowned momentarily, searching his dark eyes and bit hard on her lip.

“Giuliett said ‘Stop! It’s my turn.’ The girls pulled me to my feet and held my hands behind my back. One sniggered and I saw them all looking at each other.”

Francesca pulled Nicholas up from the floor and demonstrated, one hand tightly clasping his wrists behind him. She watched in awe as the extent of his fitness took shape. Muscled shoulders and his bare chest filled her vision and as her hand ran along the bunched biceps and powerful forearms Francesca curiously watched them flinch at her touch.

“Giuliett did this,” she whispered.

Her fingernail lightly traced the outline of his lips and jaw as Giulietta had done to her. She moved closer to Nicholas, breathing close to his lips and pressing her face to his. Breathing slowly and deliberately, menacing, before drifting slightly away.

Francesca placed a measured kiss on each cheek and stopped millimetres from his lips. Nicholas felt the threatening power of her and he stilled, waiting, defiant, just as Francesca must have done with Giuliett.

Francesca brushed her lips against his, paused, before pressing them again. Nicholas tasted her inexperience and suckled gently.

Through renewed tears, Francesca opened her mouth to him. Wrenching his hands free Nicholas cradled her face, pushing his fingers into her knotted, auburn hair. Her bewildering passions exploded.

The kiss deepened. Hands slid around her neck and shoulders, pinning her between the bedroom wall and his strength. Francesca melted into him.

She breathed out at the sensation. “More,” she whispered.

Anticipation gripped his shoulders as fingers expertly released the remaining buttons of her dress and the ties of her bikini. He stripped the swimsuit away. Through the thin cotton fabric, he rubbed her, teased her, watching her expression and the passionate call of her eyes. When at last he tasted the sweetness of her, she breathed his name softly.

Hungry lips again crushed hers and Francesca tasted herself, a heady mixture of Dior and sunshine. She smiled at him.

A warm, growing heat came from him. Her hands sought to touch it.

Pulling at his swim shorts, she found skin. Her soft touch explored his hips and buttocks and in a rush of emotion, returned to meet his coarse hair. Francesca felt the urgency inside her stomach bubble up and escape from her lips. She kissed him hard exploring the softness of his neck and bit down gently.

Nicholas groaned. Releasing the binding cord, he encouraged her fingers to explore his need for her.

Francesca gasped at the silky hardness of him, marvelling at the feel of it before quickly returning to the safety of his chest. Her hands slid along his bare chest and shoulders. She bent her head to taste, flicking her tongue over the raised bumps as he had done to her, before nuzzling his neck.

Tantalizing, intoxicating and completely out of reach. Without the slightest clue, she’d placed Nicholas completely under her spell. Again.

He tasted her lips, found the softness of her mouth, before reluctantly pulling his head away from her. He held her close, cradling her against his shoulder. Gently he pulled her hips onto to him. His father would have his balls if he seduced her.

He would do it anyway.

“It was like that but without the last kiss from you,” she mumbled against his bare chest, wrapping her arms around him. “That didn’t happen because I screamed in her face and ran away. I had to find you Nicholas. I had to find you and be safe.”

Breathing heavily, Francesca burrowed into the masculine scent of his neck and chest, her soft lips pressing against the spiky roughness. She licked at the hollow of his neck sighing at the new sensations filling her and spoke dreamily.

“Kiss me again, Nicholas. I want to know what those other girls know.”

Francesca’s hand tentatively slid down his stomach, reaching into his shorts. She breathed out pleasurably. “And I’m ready for you to teach me.”

Nicholas woke with a dry mouth and his hand on his cock.

The gentle rocking of the boat lulled him back to the present. He struggled to bring his thoughts together in the haze of past and present. His weary eyes searched the yacht’s bedroom in the vain hope of seeing her appear before him.

God, would he ever get over her. It was not enough that he bore the physical scars of their secret relationship. Every night his dreams were filled with her. And every day, when he dressed, he was reminded of the girl he’d lost at the hands of his irrational father. Nicholas would risk it all again just to see her one more time.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, Nicholas found his bearings and shifted focus. He sifted through the outcomes of the mission and the moments before he’d fallen asleep on the luxury yacht.

Last morning, at Seta’s villa, he’d tasted success. And it was bitter. Six years of specialist military training had prepared him for the physical duties he’d undertake. To focus on the task and ignore the emotion required self-control. A skill learnt from his mentors.

For the most part Nic was accepting of his new and anonymous life. A nephew indebted to his uncle. Alessandro had created the opportunity for a son to right the wrongs of a father. In this new regime he was a ghost, silently slipping between the layers of organised crime, protected by his uncle’s vast network of wealth and influence. To the world, and in the eyes of the past, Nicholas Delarno was dead.

Physically and mentally, Nic was stronger than he’d ever been. It was the emotional journey that challenged him the most. Just when would he heal and how could he, when the chilling reminder of his mafia connections taunted his mind and scored his body every day?

When at this moment, any effective solution was as elusive as Francesca herself.

Once on board the yacht, Nicholas had immediately sought refuge in his room, isolation and sleep. It was the only way he could deal with his past when these particular emotions threatened.

Pushing his hands through closely cropped hair, again he wondered if he was the right person for this particular job. In reality, he was the only person. It was upon Silvio Delarno that a son would exact revenge. If Carlo Seta stepped in the way, Nicholas would handle him too.

His mind sought comfort and settled on Francesca. Her unwitting role as a child was more to do with keeping rivals in check. That was the way his father saw it. Silvio spent years grooming her as the pawn. The son knew she was worth more than that. When family business was passed from father to son, Nicholas would need Francesca by his side. He wanted her by his side. And he would have her.

Nicholas dressed quickly. Thinking about what could have been was useless. It was the past.

He checked his watch. Mid-afternoon. He was late. Unforgivable. His uncle would be waiting.

“You did very well, Nicholas,” Alessandro greeted his protégé, looking up momentarily from the computer.

Waves of grey hair framed his handsome face and even in weariness, the gentleman created a picture of elegance. Dressed in classic Armani chinos and lightweight knit, the sleeves were pushed back to his elbows. Rough black hairs sprouted sparsely along exposed lean forearms. The private sitting room’s wall of technology and computer screens blinked real-time images of the villa.

“Would you like a pastry?” Alessandro indicated the arrangement beside him. “I’ll order fresh coffee.”

“Zio.” Nicholas raised his chin quickly in acknowledgement. “I missed an opportunity last night. It was too risky with that other security detail.” He paused, adding stiffly, “You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

“That’s the game I play, Nicholas,” Alessandro responded, knowing his nephew had something more pressing to say. He checked the monitor out of habit.

“Francesca needs me. She’s not safe. Silvio’s trying to locate her again.”

Alessandro nodded quietly.

“It’s only a matter of time. I’ll have to move quickly to get to her first.” Nicholas spoke with renewed determination.

Alessandro nodded, glancing again at his nephew. He looked away from the young man, but it was too late: Nicholas had already recognised the flicker of guilt in his uncle’s expression as the old man turned.

“You already know where she is,” Nicholas said abruptly, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Yes.” Alessandro stood, coming round from behind the desk.

“How long have you known?” Nicholas asked, deliberately pronouncing every word. He felt the tightly bound emotional coil uncurl within him.

“Nicholas, it doesn’t matter how long I have known.” The man faced his nephew.

“Bullshit, Alessandro.” He wanted to punch something, or someone. Instead, he raked his hair in quick agitation. “You’ve always known! You didn’t think to tell me? You couldn’t talk to me about her? You of all people know my head is full of her and you’ve left me wondering for six godforsaken years.”

“It would have disrupted your training.” Alessandro tilted his head in arrogance. “Besides, what would you have done? Track her down? Complicate her life? It’s true: I’ve always known Francesca’s whereabouts. It’s been imperative to our operations.”

“Right. Because of her father’s connections,” Nicholas spat. His uncle was just like Silvio: everything and everyone had a purpose. A person was merely a commodity to trade. He turned his back and stalked further into the suffocating room.

“No,” the older gentleman said quietly and his face saddened. “I suffered greatly when Stefano died. We were very good friends. Stefano Salucci was a decent man.”

A sombre air filled the space between them. “I look out for Francesca and her safety because she is the daughter of my friend,” Alessandro paused, “and because she has borne your son.”

Nicholas stopped.

He turned slowly, looking intently at his uncle for a moment and shouted, “Impossible!”