Page 32 of Scream (Duchess & Devils #1)

Maksim.

As soon as we land in New York, it’s like she doesn’t exist. Or we’re both so busy we hardly see each other.

She seems to be sleeping in the penthouse just fine now that Parker’s nearby.

I haven’t heard her moan or cry out for me, and my body, my soul weeps for her.

For another taste of her skin, her sighs, her arousal.

I’m going fucking crazy, salivating like a fucking dog every time I remember the way her hips would buck against my face, riding my tongue, chasing away her demons.

I huff out a groan.

I came home the other day to find a pink throw pillow and blanket on the couch, and I grinned. Grinned at the thought of her making this her space. The more of her here, of her scent, her softness, the more I could disillusion myself into thinking she could be happy here.

Until she texts me only fifteen days after coming back from Italy that she won’t be coming home for the evening.

Me: What the fuck do you mean?

Wife: I’m having dinner with Raven and her guys, I’m already headed there, then I’m staying the weekend at my house.

Me: What are you doing at your house that’s so important?

Wife: Everything I can’t do at yours.

Me: Such as?

Wife: Bake. Sit on a comfortable couch and read to decompress.

Me: You can read at the penthouse.

I can feel her rolling her eyes through the phone as the bubbles pop up.

Wife: Your couch feels like sitting on a slab of ice and I don’t like the way the leather feels on my skin.

Shit. I hardly ever sit on my sofa – I forgot it’s leather.

I call Jonathan into my office immediately. He’s young, in his early twenties, with fierce Italian features. His mother was my assistant for the longest, but she retired two years ago, having been my father’s assistant before me. She trained her son quickly to replace her. “Yeah boss?”

“Apparently, my wife finds my couch to be irritating and cold.”

“Just the couch, huh?”

I blink at him, understanding what he means, I grin inwardly, then I grunt outwardly, and he rolls his muddy brown eyes. “I don’t have time for your sass. Has she… spoken to you about the type of furniture she appreciates? Since you seem to be in more communication with my wife than I assumed?”

“Oh yeah, I love her couch. It’s really soft. Suede.”

I rise to my feet quickly and grasp his shirt. “How do you know what kind of couch she has?”

“Hey! Whoa! When we were planning the wedding. You have to put me down. I’m getting a really weird boner, and I don’t want to poke you with it, oh my god ,” he pants.

I look him up and down when I drop him. “You’re gay?”

He puts his hand over his crotch. “I don’t really like to put a label on it, but bisexual is more accurate.

” He takes a moment, then stands up straight, hand covering his crotch, huffing out heavy a breath.

“God, that was so hot. I can’t even look at you right now.

I’ve dreamt about being manhandled before but-“ He takes a peek up at me beneath black lashes then back to the ground.

“No, I still can't look at you. Don’t you remember the guy I took to the wedding?”

I shake my head. I was busy watching my wife the entire time.

“Figures. Anyway, your wife, Lily, Raven, Elena - Jonas’ mom - Matilda and I would frequently spend time together at Sab’s-” I raise a brow at the nickname he has for my wife.

“Uhm, Mrs. Giordano’s house to plan the wedding.

We only had sixteen weeks to do it. So yeah, I’ve spent time at your wife’s house.

With four other women !” he adds after I snarl.

“Do you still have your key to my penthouse?”

“Yes?”

“Good. You’re done here for the day. Have my furniture removed and purchase what you think she would prefer.” He’s not done here. I have so much shit I have to do before the fight next weekend.

“It’s Friday,” he argues.

“It’s Friday, but it’s also very easy to lose your privileges to my home in Saint Tropez.”

He bites his lower lip and looks up at me with a pout. “Fine. But I'm doing it for her . She deserves this. Not because of Saint Tropez.” he says, leaving my office.

“The recliner stays, and I need the furniture black , not pink!” I call after him.

“Okay!” he yells, grabbing his jacket from his desk chair but I hear him mutter, “ So bossy.”

“I am your boss!” I call after him, but the door to the office is already closing with him on the other side of it.

I show up at Raven’s uninvited, knocking on the front door, Maverick’s face falling when he sees me, but he saves it with, “Sorry, thought you were the pizza guy.” He widens the door enough for me to walk through, then shuts it behind me.

“We’re in the den, c’mon.” He welcomes me into his home like I'm a long-lost friend.

“Where is my wife?”

“Hmm? Oh, she’s downstairs with Raven and Parker.”

“Doing what?”

He lifts his brow at me over his glasses just as Damon offers me a cocktail, which I accept.

Jonas sits on the oversized armchair with ice packs on his knees.

When he sees me staring, Jonas shrugs and says, “It’s preventive.

Had a harsh practice, and our in-house doctor wants me to ice them. I’ll add heat in a bit and alternate.”

That’s right. He just signed with one of the teams before the wedding.

Damon bends and kisses his temple, murmuring something about medicine. The tops of Jonas’ cheeks turn pink, but he turns and kisses Damon on the lips.

I feel my brows furrow together.

“They’re together.” Maverick says with a smile as though he read my thoughts.

“And you?”

“I’m just with our girl.”

I blink at them. “And it works?”

Maverick nods. “It works.”

“How?”

Before he can reply, there’s a sound coming from the hallway, and goosebumps skate along my skin.

It’s Sabrina - laughing . Not the low-throaty noise that comes out of her when she’s in public.

No, this noise is hearty , loud, and genuine .

She’s bent over, one arm slung over Raven, and they both fall to the ground in a fit of giggles.

It’s the first time I've heard any sounds coming out of Goth Cello Barbie.

Parker is behind them, hands on his hips with a smile on his face, searching the ceiling for some kind of patience.

If I weren’t aware Sabrina is in recovery, I’d swear they were drunk with the way they keep trying to sit up only to fall again.

And it’s… it’s incredible to watch. She’s sweaty, slightly pink in the face, wearing an oversized sweatshirt and yoga pants.

Does she come here to work out? Why doesn’t she use the gym at the penthouse?

Does she not like it? No. She doesn’t even know where it is – I haven’t shown her because I’ve had no time and barely see her.

I need to fix that.

Parker helps Raven up first, since she’s closest to him, then takes Sabrina by the elbow. It isn’t until she’s aware of me that their giggles stop, and a frown replaces her smile.“Maksim? What are you doing here?” She walks toward me and all I can see is the sparkle in her eyes dwindling.

Does she hate me that much? I thought we had made progress in Italy.

That was until Parker showed up and then they traipsed all over Italy without me.

Then again, I had to work. I had business to address at each vineyard.

Another thing I chose not to tell her about.

The wine is just another way to be able to launder more money for the famiglias.

“You said we were having dinner here,” I explain, hoping she doesn’t kick me out in front of these people.

“Right, no, yeah, I did.” She lies for me. Again.

Just then the doorbell rings, and I lift a finger at Mav when he stands up. “I got it.” It’s the least I can do for barging in on their evening like this. I’m sure they’re just too polite to kick me out. I go to the door and take the five pizzas from the older guy.

“That’ll be one hundred and seventeen.”

I give him all the cash in my wallet. “Keep the change.”

“Holy shit. Thank you, man.”

I look up at him to see tears in his eyes.

“You… you don’t know what you’ve done. Thank you.”

A weird pang hits my chest, “Have a good night.”

He stares at the few hundreds in his hands, mouth still open, nodding as I dismiss him, closing the door on his face.

“That was… kind of you.” Sabrina says softly, her glare gone, but her green eyes shine a little bit… for me. Another weird feeling hits my chest.

“You’re not staying here,” I grunt as soon as her front door closes behind us. Christ, even her home smells distinctly like her. I could breathe all of this Sabrina-tinged air for years - and I plan to.I need my penthouse to smell like this – her. My sheets.

She gasps. “And why not?”

“Because you belong in the penthouse with your husband.”

“The contract-”

“The contract stated you would keep your home, not that you would bounce between homes like some fucking child of divorce. You and I are married . ‘Till death do us part, Duchess. The devil is in the details. You should know this. Don’t you read the fine print?”

Oh. I changed the fine print behind her back.

Oops.

“ Please , Maksim, that place is cold. It’s like a weird prison I can escape during the day. I just want a weekend where I can be myself.”

“You can be yourself… at our penthouse.” It was during the evening, while eating the delicious gourmet pizza and being stared at by Raven’s enormous dog – and having my leg scratched to hell by their demon of a cat – that Jonathan sent me pictures of the new sofas.

They ones that look exactly like Sabrina’s but black, and it warms me when I see he put her fluffy pink throw blanket and pillow on the sofa.

It looks… good . The pink and black together. A mixture of us .

Thank God Parker went straight to his room after we strode the few feet from Raven’s to Sabrina’s to shower and change. Something's up between them. She hardly spoke to him all night.

She groans and huffs out an agitated breath. “I haven’t baked since we left Italy.”