Page 55 of Beautiful Torment (Empire of Kings #1)

ABELLA

T o my disappointment, we end up taking a water taxi without enough privacy to finish what Angelo started at the breakfast table this morning.

The ride to the city seems shorter than usual with Angelo by my side, his hand absently stroking my shoulder as he takes a call from Alessio. I close my eyes and let the sun warm my face as I listen to the deep, calm reverberations of his voice.

Before I realize it, we’re docking at the marina.

Angelo disconnects the call and escorts me to the car, and Nicky drives us to my office building.

When we arrive, and Angelo gets out with me, I think he’s planning to walk me to my office, too.

But as we enter the building, something strange happens.

Thomas, the day security guard, bolts upright from his seat and greets us a little too enthusiastically.

“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Vitale.”

“Morning, Thomas,” Angelo answers briskly as he guides me to the elevator bank.

“What was that about?” I eye him suspiciously.

“What?” He arches a brow at me.

The elevator dings, and we step inside. Angelo presses the button for my floor.

“Do you know him from the…” I glance up at the cameras, wondering how often they actually monitor this footage.

“From what?” Angelo’s lip lifts at the corner, and I know he wants me to say it.

Oh, you know, when you chased me through the building in a mask and made me come while I hung over the rooftop railing.

“I take it you’re on a first-name basis with all the security here,” I say instead.

“I am.” There’s an edge of humor to his voice I don’t quite understand. At least, not until the elevator signals our arrival and we step off onto my floor.

I stop short when I see the huge new office space they were constructing before the wedding. Sitting at one of the desks in front of the executive office is Genevieve.

Suddenly, everything falls into place.

“You bought all these spaces?”

“I bought the building,” Angelo replies.

Before I have time to wrap my head around that, Genevieve is up and on her feet, hurrying in our direction.

“Angelo, thank God,” she breathes. “It’s been such a hectic morning. I need you for something urgent.”

Irritation winds its way through me as she stands way too close to him for comfort. Of course, she ignores me entirely.

“Oh, here, let me get this.” She brushes an imaginary piece of lint from his suit.

“What’s the issue, Genevieve?” he asks.

“It’s a confidential matter,” she tells him. “A client request. Shall we take this into your office?”

That spark of irritation is turning into a full-burning flame now. She won’t even look at me, so I guess this is her new pretend-you-don’t-exist game.

Angelo turns, surprising me when he presses a kiss to the top of my head. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”

It’s not quite what I want from him, but it still feels like it means something. Or maybe it’s just that I want it to.

After a nod from me, he takes his leave with Genevieve. I watch them go, and when she turns to shut the door to his office, she gives me an evil little smirk.

I make a split-second decision then and there, glancing at my phone to check the time. Then I call IVI headquarters.

I spend the first half of my day on a client consultation, a virtual closet audit, a fitting session, and some research.

The annual Society masquerade ball is coming up, and I’m about to get slammed with appointments.

I block out the rest of my afternoon to curate some lookbooks and moodboards.

I’ll also need to screen a few interns to help with the busiest part of the season.

When the alarm on my phone goes off, signaling I have thirty minutes until my plan is executed, I call Thomas in security and give him my instructions. He confirms and disconnects the call without further question.

Steeling myself with a breath, I walk down the hall to my husband’s office. Unsurprisingly, Genevieve bolts up from her desk just as I’m about to open Angelo’s door.

“You can’t go in there.” She glares. “He’s on a call.”

“Pack your things, Genevieve.” I smile sweetly. “You’re fired.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “You can’t fire me.”

“Oh, but I can, and I just did,” I tell her. “In case you forgot, I’m Mrs. Vitale—and I’m done with your bullshit.”

“I’m going to take this up with Angelo,” she huffs.

“That’s fine. You can take it up with Jesus, too, if you want. It still won’t change the outcome.”

Her face mottles with red as I dismiss her and slip into Angelo’s office, locking the door behind me. Almost immediately, she starts knocking, calling out for him.

He arches a brow at me as he glances up from his desk, phone to his ear. While he’s busy, I let my eyes roam over him. Today, he’s wearing a jet-black Italian wool suit with a sharp, modern cut. His dress shirt, tie, and cufflinks are all black, too.

Il Diavolo vestito di nero.

The Devil dressed in black.

While Genevieve has a meltdown on the other side of the door, I walk around his desk and pull up my skirt. Angelo’s eyes flash with heat as they rake over my thigh-high stockings.

Using his desk for support, I step between his legs. Because he’s so much larger than I am, I have to climb on top of him like I’m scaling a mountain. It’s probably not the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, but when I straddle him and sit down in his lap, he doesn't object.

He says something absently to the voice on the other line as his palm skates up my thigh to cup my bare ass. I close my eyes and grind down on his cock before I slip my fingers between my thighs and unsnap my bodysuit.

Angelo grips a handful of my ass roughly, ending his call. “I have something that requires my attention.”

He tosses the phone onto his desk and grabs me by the hips. “Did you block out some time on your schedule to get fucked in my office, cara?”

“Yes.” I drag my bottom lip between my teeth.

“Why is my assistant having a fit?” he asks.

“Because I fixed the problem.”

He gives me a curious glance but doesn’t question me further as his hands roam over my rib cage. When he palms my breasts, I arch into him, but as I do, he glares at my cleavage.

“Have you been walking around the office like this?” he growls.

I glance down at the black bodysuit and matching skirt. It’s a soft, comfortable outfit, but Angelo didn’t see what I was wearing beneath my fuzzy sweater this morning when we left the house.

“What’s wrong with it?”

His eyes move over the swell of my breasts. “If I see another man staring at these, I’m going to cut his eyes out.”

A shiver rolls down my spine as I remember the guard at the resort. It isn’t an empty threat. But there’s something so addictive about Angelo’s possession—and right now, I really want to be possessed by him.

“Nobody’s going to look,” I tell him. “I belong to you.”

I regret the words when darkness pools in his eyes.

He hasn’t forgiven me, and I doubt he’ll ever trust me again.

But instead of acknowledging that, he grabs a fistful of my hair and tilts my head back.

He presses his lips against my throat, biting his way down to my chest. When he tugs the top of the bodysuit down, my breasts spill free, and then his mouth is on them.

He sucks my nipples until I’m an aching, desperate mess.

After fumbling with his belt for a while, I finally get his trousers undone.

I slide my hand into his briefs and start to stroke him, and he groans.

All the while, Genevieve keeps banging on the door, screeching his name, and he doesn’t seem to care.

When he lets go of my hair and I meet his eyes again, I can’t hide the vulnerability in mine.

“Tell me you haven’t touched her.”

Whatever it is he sees in me makes him give me an honest answer.

“I haven’t touched her.” He smooths my hair back, and I bathe in the warmth of that feeling. “Why would I need her when I have you?”

He couldn’t know how much I crave those words, or how they‘ll also be our undoing. That isn’t something I want to think about right now, so I don’t.

I map the contours of his handsome face with my fingers. I want more than anything to kiss him, but I can’t handle another rejection. So instead, I kiss my way down his neck, licking and sucking until it all gets to be too much for him.

In a blur of movement, Angelo has me upright and bent over his desk as he presses against me from behind. His thumbs graze the back of my thighs, tracing the lines of his name inked into my skin.

“Hold still…Let me look at what’s mine.”

I bite back a helpless little sound as his words burrow somewhere deep inside me. Then I wait patiently while he eye-fucks me like he’s seeing everything for the first time. His hands drift over my body with so much reverence, I can’t help but feel like he’s worshipping me.

“Nothing I’ve ever seen could compare to this,” he rasps. “ Sei mia, bellezza .”

You’re mine, beauty.

Those words wrap around me and pull me deeper into an addiction I’ll never be able to cut out.

He grips me by the hips and presses the head of his cock against me, and I moan.

“Fuck,” he rasps, pushing inside me and stretching me apart. “I could live in this pussy.”

I clench around him, melting beneath his approval. He’s in an affectionate mood today, and I like it far too much.

It won’t be long before I come.

He pulls back and thrusts into me, easing me into it until my body adjusts around him. Almost immediately, I’m soaking him with my arousal. He picks up the pace and fucks me into the desk with so much possession I can’t contain the pleasure that spills from my lips.

Something rattles and crashes to the floor.

Angelo groans. Genevieve falls quiet on the other side of the door, and I know she’s listening.

It shouldn’t give me so much satisfaction, but it does.

Maybe it’s petty, but I want her to remember the way Angelo fucked me before he let her go without a fight.

“You like that, don’t you?” He squeezes my hips as he fucks me harder. “You want her to know you’re the only one I’ll ever take like this.”

A ripple of heat rushes down my spine and straight between my thighs.

My heart pounds, muscles drawing tight as the pressure builds.

I feel him everywhere—the warmth of his palms, the brush of his suit, his cock buried deep inside me.

It’s all so hot I never want it to end. But my resolve doesn’t stand a chance against him.

He fucks me straight into the orgasm, and I cry out as it rips through me. My body shudders as I spasm around him, and he keeps pounding into me, drawing out the intensity until I’m completely wrung out.

I collapse onto his desk with a thud.

He leans over me, his lips grazing my neck as he softens his thrusts. “You want my cum?”

“Yes.”

“Beg for it.”

“ Per favore, ti prego .” The words tumble out on a ragged breath.

“That’s my good girl,” he growls against my ear. “I’m going to give you all of it.”

He sinks into me and groans out his release, filling me with his warmth. It stretches out endlessly, his body shuddering with aftershocks so intense I can feel his muscles contracting around me.

He came hard. And I suspect it’s because he really enjoyed the thought of me marching down to his office and laying claim to him.

Genevieve starts pounding on the door again. “Angelo, please!” she shrieks.

An annoyed sigh escapes him as he slides out of me. His cum leaks down my thighs, and when I glance over my shoulder, that’s exactly what he’s looking at.

Heat sparks in his gaze as he watches my eyes drift to his cock. That, too, is covered in his cum.

“You like seeing what you did to me?” he asks.

I nod.

“Then get on your knees and clean up the mess you left.”

God, that shouldn’t sound so hot, but it does.

I pull myself off the desk and sink to my knees in front of him. Gripping the base of his cock, I slide him into my mouth. His fingers thread through my hair, and he watches with inky-black eyes as I suck the cum off his dick and swallow it.

A tremor pulses through him as I lick him clean. I keep going, milking every last drop from him until he halts me with his grasp on my hair.

“That’s enough, bella .” His thumb caresses my cheek.

The warmth in his gaze soaks into my skin like sunlight, and time suspends itself as we stare at each other. I’m on my knees, my mouth still warming his cock while he towers over me. His palm cradles the back of my head as if to say, mine.

This kind of intimacy with him makes it easy to forget our looming problems. Part of me is still screaming to protect myself so it hurts less later. The other part of me leans into his touch like I might die if I have to live without it.

Another loud shriek outside the door ruins the moment. There’s a male voice out there, too, now—so I guess security is trying to drag her out.

“No!” Genevieve screams. “Angelo, help me!”

“Oh, cara .” He smirks as he pulls his dick from my mouth and tucks it back into his briefs. “What have you done?”

I rise to my feet and adjust my clothing. “You told me to fix it if I didn’t like it. So I did.”

“Thank fuck,” he sighs. “I didn’t know how much more I could take.”

“Yes, well—” I close the distance between us, reaching up and straightening his suit.

“I’m not playing this game again. The next Genevieve that comes around, it’s up to you to make it clear where you stand.

You’re the one who took the vows, and I won’t spend the rest of my life policing other women.

If this marriage is going to work, we need to learn to trust each other again. ”

His gaze settles on my face, and I know I’m playing a risky game. There isn’t a wife in the Cosa Nostra who would try to tell her husband what to do. But when Angelo hears it from me, there’s a glint of respect in his eyes.

“That’s what you want?” His voice is edged with doubt, but beneath that, there’s something rougher…like need.

My conscience is still whispering that this is wrong—I shouldn’t let him believe this is anything other than what it has to be. But the selfish part of me wants to pretend we live in a bubble where those problems don’t exist.

Before I can answer, there’s a loud knock on the door, followed by Thomas’s voice.

“Mr. Vitale?”

Angelo scrapes a hand over his jaw, exhaling sharply before he stalks over to the door and opens it. Outside, two guards are trying to usher Genevieve to the elevator as she has a toddler-sized meltdown.

“Angelo!” she cries out when she sees him. “Don’t let them take me. I know you want me here.”

“Jesus,” he mutters. “I’ll send your severance check in the mail. You’re done here, Genevieve.”

With a nod, two of the guards pull her back and haul her to the elevator while she screams obscenities. On cue, another elevator arrives, and a familiar face steps out. We say hello, and Angelo glances at me.

“Who is this?”

“This is Andrew.” I smile sweetly. “Your new assistant.”