: Part 1 – Chapter 3

THERE WAS SOMETHING VERY still about him as he considered the offer. He watched her unerringly with that one golden eye, his head tilted to the left, the sunlight streaming from the large windows casting a glow on his beautiful, scarred face.

“You’re not telling me the whole truth,” he spoke finally, and her heart faltered.

No, she wasn’t.

She wasn’t telling him his secrets—that she’d known so much about him since before she’d seen him for the first time. She wasn’t telling him that he’d been her first kiss, that she still remembered the way the metal from the fence he’d pushed her into had dug into her back where she’d had grooves for a week. She wasn’t telling him that she’d loved him as a young man and she wanted to love him again as a grown one.

She just didn’t understand how she’d become such a fleeting memory to him. She knew it sounded like she’d been a stalker, but she hadn’t. She just… loved the only way she knew how to—completely, utterly, without any shame. It had begun when she’d broken her ribs climbing the tree in her backyard at ten. She’d been admitted to the hospital for a week, and because the children’s ward had been full, they’d temporarily put her in the adult ward with a kind older woman.

The woman had been dying, but she’d spoken to Zephyr. She’d asked about her, her family, and played a wordy game with her. She’d talked about her son, what a strong boy he was, how he was such a good person but she was sad to be leaving him alone. He would have no one after she was gone, and Zephyr, heartbroken for a boy she’d not known, had promised her that she would be there for him. The older woman, Adriana, had smiled lovingly and made her pinkie promise. She had died in her sleep that night.

The next morning, Zephyr had seen a tall, lean thirteen-year-old boy in a torn shirt throw a chair through the ward window, his golden eyes red from crying, the pain in his body something she’d felt in hers in that moment.

Alessandro Villanova had loved his mother to the point the nurses had to sedate him to ease his pained howls.

And Zephyr, even after leaving the hospital that day, never forgot about him. That had only been the beginning of them, one he didn’t know about.

She didn’t tell him any of that as she watched that amber eye, the shade so light she’d always called it gold in her head. His beautiful eyes, damaged, leaving him partially blinded, with a leather strap covering it up.

“Does it bother you?” he asked softly, and she knew he was talking about his eye patch. She was surprised at the question. Was he insecure about that? Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe, it was just curiosity.

“Not at all,” she answered honestly. As long as he was okay, it didn’t bother her. But she did wonder when it had happened, how it had happened, and how he had recovered from it.

“Then tell me what you’re hiding.”

And have him run her off like a lunatic? Oh no.

“All in good time,” she smiled softly at him, the joy in her heart visceral at finding him again. “Just know I’m not a liar. Every word I told you is the truth.”

“I’m not a good man,” he informed her. “In my line of work, I have enemies. As interesting as your proposition is, you have no idea the world any wife of mine would be stepping into.”

“I know. You’re an underworld hotshot and all that. You have more real estate than any one man should, you take people off the streets and employ them in shady ventures, you have a circuit of sex workers around you for some reason.” He tensed at her recital of the facts. ‘It’s not hard to dig up that you’re deep in some dark places, which makes you dangerous, which makes you powerful, and while I might not know the finer details, I know all that.’

“Then you should be running the other way.”

She stayed seated.

He leaned back into his chair. “This is… unexpected. Why me in particular?” he asked her point-blank. “A girl like you can have her pick of men to marry. There must be another reason.”

“Maybe, we’re meant to be,” she winked. ‘Maybe, your kiss blew me away.’

The unscarred side of his mouth twitched. “I haven’t been with a woman in a long time, Zephyr,” he warned her quietly. “Be careful of the ways you offer yourself to me. They don’t call me the beast for nothing.”

That was exactly who she wanted. “You’re a twisted beast. I’m a twisted beauty. We’re totally meant to be, handsome. It’s written in the fairytales.”

He didn’t react to the lightness in her tone, just observed her for a while longer, and she let him see her sincerity. She let him take in her dyed hair, her round, soft face, the dimple she got in her cheek when she smiled, the silver in her nose, and her pretty boring light brown eyes.

“Alright, I’ll play.”

He tapped his fingers on the desk again. Zephyr watched the back of his hand with more focus, a long scar from the joint of his middle finger disappearing under his t-shirt, black ink wrapping around the line like rose vines with thorns but no blooms. Interesting choice. She wondered if he had more ink around his scars. She wanted to explore every little inch of them.

“So, a marriage for six months before we go our separate ways?”

“Yes.”

“And I get you during the duration as I want? However I want?”

Her breath hitched. “Yes.”

“So, what you’re saying is,” he leaned forward, “that I can round the desk right now and spread your pussy while my men can hear you scream outside?”

Zephyr felt her thighs clench. Damn. “Yes.”

“And let’s say, I strip you naked right here, right now, and press you against the window for the whole city to see while I pound you into the glass, you wouldn’t object?”

Oh dear lord, have mercy, she was getting hot. “No,” she breathed.

“And if I tell you to suck me off under the table like my personal little slut while I talk to one of my men, you would?” he asked her, almost daringly, either trying to scare her or thinking she was bluffing and calling her out on it.

Zephyr quietly stood up and dropped her bag on the carpeted floor, rounding the desk casually as he watched her.

She dropped to her knees between his legs and looked up at him. He appeared larger, like a true pirate overlord of the olden times.

“Talk to your man,” she called him on his bluff.

They stared at each other for a long, tense moment, her ready and willing to blow his mind, him trying to understand why a girl he didn’t know would go to such drastic lengths to marry him. He had no idea.

His hand went to his belt buckle.

She pulled her hair to one side.

He unzipped his jeans, watching her.

She settled her ass on her heels, watching him.

For long tense moments, they stayed that way, waiting for the other to blink.

Suddenly, he leaned forward, gripping her chin with his rough fingers. He held her in place, one side of his mouth turning up in a smile that should have been scary but to her was a victory.

“You’re playing with the beast, little rainbow.” His grip on her chin tightened. “I bite.”

She exposed her neck, keeping their gazes locked. “I was hoping you would,” she whispered.

“Fuck.”

The space between their faces tingled, the air heavy with anticipation as she closed her eyes and waited for him to close the distance, his breaths on her face, his scent in her nose, his touch on her skin.

The breath came closer, and her lips parted, her body supple, open, needy for his affection.

His fingers tightened on her chin once.

Then he let her go.

Zephyr blinked her eyes open, the first thing in her line of sight a sizeable bulge under his unbuttoned jeans. Her mouth salivated as she locked eyes with him.

‘Are you tempted?’ she asked, her voice a breathless whisper.

He didn’t reply, just buttoned himself, adjusting his dick to accommodate, and stood up. Zephyr exhaled, collecting herself. Satisfied, but slightly disappointed, she held his thigh for support, deliberately placing her hand close to his bulge, and eased herself back to her feet.

She was straightening her dress when suddenly his hand was in her hair, his fist pulling her head back, and his mouth a hair’s breadth away from hers. It would have been intimidating for someone who’d not seen the bones beneath his beast, who’d not know the tenderness with which he treated something he loved. It would have intimidated anyone, but Zephyr stayed fluid, keeping herself open to whatever he wanted to find inside her.

His gaze lingered on her for a moment, puzzled as though he was trying to figure her out, before he murmured, his words brushing her lips. ‘I will scar you.’

‘I might want it,’ she replied, puzzling him even more, passing whatever tests he kept throwing her way.

Letting her go, he walked stiffly to the door and opened it, clearly indicating for her to leave him to figure it out.

“I’ll think about it.”

That was the best she could’ve hoped for, frankly much better than she’d expected from the meeting. Had she been in his place, she would’ve thrown out the idiotic scheme in five seconds flat. He definitely had a lot more patience.

She nodded and picked up her bag as he stood by the door, waiting for her to walk through. Aware of the many curious eyes on them from the outside, she placed a hand on his shoulder, went up on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss at the corner of his lip, right on the scar that pulled it down.

“I’ll wait, sexy.”

With a wink, she left.

One of the guys in the open seating area coughed into his coffee mug and the door slammed shut in response.

Zephyr strolled past the men to the elevator, a little pep in her step.