This is why I couldn’t be around her. She tested me like she could go up against me and win. I turned her around and bent her over my desk. “I should find a way to mark every part of you,” I growled, wanting her to back down.
She laughed and pushed her ass against my length. “Do your worst, Cade. It probably still won’t be the best I’ve had.”
The comparison to others pushed me over the edge. I’d thought about Izzy since I’d met her. I practically stalked her digital presence, had notifications on my phone of what she did on the dark web, and checked security cameras every now and then when I was alerted of her facial recognition. She was a nuisance, and I told myself it was to keep her in check, but I realized then and there that she was my nuisance.
I thrust into what was mine. “Not when I’m all you’ve ever had, dollface. Because a person only has what they remember, and I will obliterate your memories of other men.”
She gasped as I smacked her ass and then gripped her hip with one hand while my other yanked her hair in sync, bringing her hard down on my length, making her feel every rigid part of me.
She met me thrust for thrust, digging her nails into my oak desk, probably leaving imprints that I would have to stare at later.
“Cade, I’m close. Jesus, so close.”
Our bodies moved on their own accord now, smacking against each other loudly, chasing a pleasure that was stronger than the pain we inflicted by ramming into one another. I knew I was bruising her skin with how I held her asscheek, gripping it so tightly that her flesh plumped around each finger. I knew I was too rough, that I’d lost control.
I’d probably lost control the first moment I saw her tonight, standing there in all her glory, spraying her ex. I hadn’t expected to talk with her, but I came out of the shadows, ready to carry her off and fuck the anger out of her when I saw it. I wasn’t getting the control back either.
Not as I bent down and bit her neck. Not as I craved leaving marks. Not as I coveted seeing how she was mine, the proof visible by her reddened skin.
And then she arched and screamed out my full name. “Cade Armanelli . . . I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”
I love how she breathed those words. Like she needed to believe them. Like I pulled an emotion from her that was so visceral she had to avoid it by covering it with hate.
“Keep telling yourself that, Ms. Hardy.” I slammed into her one last time and emptied my seed. “I’m fine with you hating me as long as your pussy loves being wrapped around my cock.”
6
Izzy
I expected the Monday morning after my lapse in judgment to be a dumpster fire of a day. I’d ignored about ten calls from Gerald on Sunday while I obsessed about the night before. And the texts were ridiculous to say the least.
Gerald: We need to talk. I still love you and I’m sorry, okay? Let’s meet somewhere and hash it out.
Gerald: Izzy, you fucked up my car. At least see me so you can make it up to me.
Gerald: I’m breaking things off with Lucy, okay? She wasn’t even that good. She wasn’t you.
Gerald: I miss you. Can I come over tonight?
Me: Lose my address. We’re done.
That was an easy decision. Dealing with him directly after having the best sex of my life proved we’d never have worked anyway. My feelings for him were nothing like what I felt for Cade.
Which was completely idiotic.
Would I lose my job? Would he tell anyone? Cade had always been somewhat of an enigma. No one knew anything about his lifestyle. He was the quiet, eccentric brother to the larger-than-life Sebastian Armanelli. But he was still the brother of a mob boss. I knew he had power. I knew he could get rid of me with one command. He’d changed my job with such an order—a mere swipe of a mouse and a few keystrokes. It was nothing to him.
Keeping myself busy was the most important thing I could do now. I canceled Sunday plans with my sister over text and whipped through cleaning my tiny apartment. I blasted Alanis Morissette the whole time in the hopes she would lift my mood.
“Don’t look at me like I’m crazy, Bug,” I mumbled as I hurried past my black cat, who was perched on the couch. She’d not moved a muscle while I’d been bustling around all morning. “I have to keep busy.”
She blinked at me like that was preposterous. To her, it was. The cat didn’t move for anything. She even took my favorite spot on the couch sometimes, and when I’d try to shoo her, she’d just meow like I should have the decency not to bother her.
She normally won the argument by glaring at me with those glowing gold eyes. I’d gotten her from a humane society six months ago, and I really couldn’t say no to her. I figured she’d lived a hard enough life already. The humane society told me she was a stray someone had brought in after a cat fight. She had a scar above her eye to show for it and only half an ear.
When I saw her alone in her cage, I figured we could be pals. I had scars too, though they were much harder to see.
Gerald had a fit because he was allergic and said he wouldn’t be able to stay at my place. I’d felt guilty, but really, my apartment was mine. Plus, I hadn’t loved having him there in the first place. Only Lucas had been privy to my mess when he’d come to hang out over the past six months, otherwise I would go to Gerald’s when he was in town.
I pet Bug for another minute as I glanced around my space. “Guess you won’t miss Gerald that much, huh?” She didn’t even muster a meow for him. “He was nice to my family, though. My mom even said he’d make for a stable husband.”
Bug let her head fall onto her paw like she thought the idea was dumb.
“I know. He would have been boring and a total cheater. Plus, I have you. And a great job . . . hopefully.”
I sighed and stared at two of my paintings on the wall. I’d taken up painting when I moved out on my own. If I wasn’t working, I was painting a canvas or a piece of furniture. My home was filled with reds, pinks, blues and yellows—every color of the rainbow really.
Today, I got up off the couch and chose red. I kept canvases and paint in my spare bedroom. I should have laid down paper around my easel, but I couldn’t stop how fast the painting came to me, how fast I wanted it out of me.
A rose this time. With bold and broad strokes, black lines and shadows emerged, and I knew this wouldn’t be a piece of perfection. They never were. I twisted my wrist as I painted some of the petals, then grabbed my spray paint to speckle it and mess it up. All my paintings were this way, never perfect. Never clean.
Hours later, I stood back to admire my work and then left quickly, ready to avoid the space for at least a month or two. It was the one place where I didn't keep my emotions buried deep, and that was a hazardous area to visit for me.
I’d think of my sobriety, and I’d consider if it was all worth it. What would be one more hit to ease a feeling? But one time was all it would take to let everyone down, including myself.
When Lilah called that Monday morning after the party, I hit ignore, hoping to avoid her too.
I stuffed my butt into a black pencil skirt and added a light-green blouse which tied into a bow at the neckline. After a swipe of lip gloss, I stepped into my stilettos, grabbed the coffee thermos I’d made for myself, and hurried out, calling an Uber on the way. The fall breeze whipped over my cheeks, and the sounds of Chicago filled my ears. Cars honking, people shuffling by on their cell phones. The bustle here never stopped.
Lilah called again, and I groaned, pressing ignore again. “You know where Stonewood Tower is?” I asked the Uber driver.
She nodded enthusiastically. “I always imagine you all working up there in like a heavenly office, tossing out ideas and having meals catered,” the girl said.
I smiled softly at her. “They’re always hiring.”
She waved me off. “Ah. I’m working on my master’s. Maybe one day.”
My phone rang again. Now Dante. They weren’t going to stop. “Dante, you letting my sister boss you around now?” I answered, wiggling in my skirt.
I heard her mumble in the background, “See. I knew she’d answer your call.”
“Just pick up when she calls,” he grumbled, sounding like one of my irritated brothers.
“You know, you’re not my boss. I don’t have to answer her calls just because you say so,” I pointed out.
“But I used to be your boss, and that residual training should have you listening every now and then,” he chuckled.
“Oh my God. What do you guys want?”
“Well, I wanted you to answer your phone because I got your niece here causing me enough trouble. She won’t sleep at night. At all, Izzy. I don’t know how babies do it.” I chuckled at the sound of his voice mixed with irritation and awe. “I’m serious, Izzy, I don’t need Lilah worrying all damn day about you for no good reason.”