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25

Do You Trust Me?

Hypothetical Question: If you had to be haunted by one of your bad decisions, which one would it be?

Carina

Nate kneels before me, his hands gripping my hips like I'll disappear if he lets go.

His face—God. Tear-streaked, wrecked, vulnerable in a way I've never seen.

And it guts me.

Because he didn't know.

He wasn't working with his father. He wasn't some snake in a suit, playing a long con.

He just killed the man for what he did to me.

And me? I tied him up, was ready to torture and kill him, let him believe I was cheating—all because I refused to trust him.

Girlfriend of the year right here.

A fresh wave of nausea rolls through me. I fucked this up. I fucked this up so badly.

“This is touching, but we need to clean this up. You weren’t exactly quiet, assassino, ” Enzo interjects.

“Nate,” I whisper, cupping his tear-streaked cheeks. His skin is warm, damp with tears, and the sight of him strong, with unshakable force, completely broken—it shatters me. “I’m so sorry.”

He exhales shakily, eyes flickering closed for a second like he's trying to rebuild his composure.

“Enzo, get me something to cut these ties,” I bark, the urgency to free him clawing at me.

Nate shakes his head, a rough, uneven breath leaving his lips. "I need to call Kai."

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. We’re going to need all the help we can get to fix the catastrophic mess I’ve made. Why the hell did I think this was a good idea? Bringing them both here, ambushing them—what was I thinking?

Enzo hands me a pair of scissors, and I waste no time slicing through the zip ties binding Nate’s wrists. The moment he’s free, I pull him to his feet and crush him to my chest.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper against him, the words tumbling out over and over like a broken record.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Princess.” His voice is quiet, his hands stroking my back in soothing circles.

“I didn’t trust you,” I choke out, guilt weighing heavy on my chest.

“No... and that hurts,” he admits, his words raw, honest. “But I don’t blame you.”

My chest caves. How? How is this man real? After everything, he’s comforting me.

“Fucked-up men like my father have given you every reason to believe someone might be using you. I just need to prove I’m not like them.”

“No, you don’t.” I shake my head vehemently, pulling back to meet his gaze. “I know you’re nothing like them, Nate. I just… I got in my own head.”

“It’s okay,” he reassures me, his tone calm but firm. “We’ll talk about this later. Right now, we need a plan.”

Right. Shit.

My brain scrambles to think past the body on the floor, past the blood splattered everywhere.

How do we explain Nate’s father’s death? And then it hits me.

Evelyn. His mother.

“Oh, God,” I breathe. “Your mum. She’s going to be devastated.”

Nate’s face crumples over once more as he realises just how fucked this situation is. He just killed his own father and now we need to work out how to cover it up and tell his mother that Edward isn’t coming back.

He runs a hand over his jaw then strides over to his kitchen counter where his phone sits and types out a message—presumably to Kai.

“Let’s see what Kai says.”

Kai arrives in record time, dropping everything as soon as Nate calls. His face is grim as he takes in the scene.

He exhales sharply. “This… this is bad,” he mutters, glancing at the bloodied floor and the lifeless body.

“No shit, Sherlock,” I snap, frustration sharpening my tone.

“Hey! This is on you. Don’t get pissy with me,” Kai fires back.

Before I can respond, Nate's voice slices through the air, low and dangerous.

"Don't fucking talk to her like that."

The room plummets into silence.

Nate's glare is lethal, his entire body coiled, taut, ready to pounce. The kind of fury that could make even the hardest men flinch.

Kai isn't stupid. He holds up his hands in surrender, eyes flicking between us. "Sorry, man."

I roll my eyes and huff. “Can we focus? What’s the plan here?”

Kai takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “Okay. This is a lot harder to cover up because it’s Nate’s dad we’re talking about.”

Nate goes still.

Then, slowly, he sneers, his voice dripping venom. "That man is not my father."

A sharp, cutting silence.

Enzo, ever the voice of detached efficiency, leans against the wall. "I can make it seem like he left the country."

Kai nods. "That could work. We'll leave a trail like we did with Carmichael."

“And the body?” I ask.

Kai smiles mirthlessly. “Getting it out isn’t an issue. I’ve moved bodies from much weirder places. Remember that time I had to get one out of an art gallery in the middle of an exhibition?”

Nate’s lips twitch into a dark chuckle as he shifts closer to me, one hand resting protectively on my lower back. “Fuck, yeah. You had to stuff the guy into a duffel bag and pretend you weren’t carrying around a chopped-up corpse.”

I blink. "Why do I feel like I don't want to know this story?"

Nate grins. “Because you don’t.”

“We need to move fast,” Kai states firmly, all business again. “If your mum starts wondering where he is tonight, this whole plan falls apart. We need to plant the trail now. ”

Kai slips effortlessly into leader mode, delegating tasks.

Enzo heads back to my place to start creating a narrative that makes it look like Edward has been planning his escape for weeks. Nate and I work on scrubbing the blood splatter, using the arsenal of cleaning supplies Kai brought, while he preps the body for disposal.

It’s not ideal, but we’ve always been a solid team. By the time we finish, the room looks almost untouched, save for a lingering sense of wrongness I can’t quite shake.

As Kai finishes packing up to dispose of Edward’s body, a sudden thought jolts through me.

Shit. The texts.

I pull out my phone and quickly dial Enzo. “ Enzo! Can you remove the messages I sent Nate and Edward about tonight? ” The words tumble out in a frantic rush, panic tightening my chest as I imagine a trail leading straight to Nate’s door.

" Già fatto 11 , bella,” Enzo reassures smoothly. “And I changed the GPS on Edward's phone, so it doesn't look like he was ever at Nate's tonight.

"I've got the location of his cabin, I'll send some men to check it out. It doesn't look like he still uses it, but we'll get anyone out if they're there."

Relief washes over me. “You’re the best.”

"Anything for you , amore mio 12 , ” he teases before the line clicks dead.

I slip my phone into my pocket, exhaling as relief washes over me.

Then freeze.

Nate is staring at me, eyes blazing, sharp with barely restrained fury.

“I don’t know much Italian, but I know what amore means,” he spits, his voice quiet but simmering with barely restrained anger.

Fuck.

“Nate—”

“Why haven’t you told me about him before?” His expression shifts, the fire in his eyes dimming into something that looks a lot like heartbreak. His shoulders slump, the weight of everything crushing down on him.

Kai clears his throat. "I'm just gonna… head out." He hoists the duffel bag like it's nothing. “You two have… fun.” He disappears through the door, leaving us in heavy silence.

“I didn’t think it was necessary,” I say softly. “I hadn’t spoken to him since coming back to England until this week.”

Nate's jaw ticks. "I don't like it."

"You don't have to," I murmur. "You just have to trust me."

His jaw clenches, and then he delivers the blow I’ve been dreading. “Like you trusted me?”

The words hit hard. I flinch, guilt twisting in my stomach.

Nate immediately shakes his head, regret flashing across his face. “Sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“No… it wasn’t,” I admit, stepping closer to him. “You’re right. I should’ve trusted you. And I’m sorry for not giving you the benefit of the doubt.”

His shoulders soften, and his hand brushes against mine. “We’ll figure it out,” he murmurs. “But right now, we need to focus. We’ve got a hell of a mess to clean up.”

Nate

Carina and I head toward my bedroom, deciding to stay here tonight and leave Enzo to handle things at her place. I don’t like the idea of him having free rein there, but she insists there’s nothing to worry about—and I trust her.

At least, I’m trying to.

Unlike her.

The sting of it still lingers, sharper now that the adrenaline is fading. The betrayal gnaws at me in the quiet, creeping in like an open wound left to fester.

“I can’t believe I’ve never been in your bedroom before,” Carina teases, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Does it live up to expectations?” I ask, my voice flat.

She tilts her head, mock inspecting the room. “Not enough throw pillows for a man of your sophistication, but I’ll allow it.”

“Thanks for your approval,” I mutter, dropping onto the bed with the energy of a deflated balloon.

She tilts her head, frowning. “Nate?”

“Mmm?”

“Are we okay?”

I let out a heavy sigh, my exhaustion doing the talking. “I don’t know.”

She steps closer, her tone soft but insistent. “Talk to me?”

“I’m… hurt,” I admit, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.

“Well, that’s fair enough,” she says, nodding. “I was a bitch.”

“Stop sounding so reasonable. I’m trying to stay mad.”

Her laugh is light and warm, wrapping around me like a lifeline. “Okay, okay. I can’t believe you’re mad at me. I acted like a completely rational and well-adjusted person.”

She’s mocking me.

It’s enough to crack through the haze in my mind. I grab her by the waist and pull her down onto the bed, flipping us over. Her surprised squeal turns into gasps of laughter as I attack her sides, tickling her until she’s breathless.

“Do you promise not to do that again?” I demand, grinning despite myself.

“Yes!” she cries, squirming under my hands.

“Do you promise to talk to me next time instead of jumping to conclusions?”

“Yes! Nate, I promise!”

I stop, my hands still on her hips.

The room shifts.

The playful edge blurs into something heavier, something charged. Her laughter fades, replaced by her quick and uneven breathing.

I look down at her. Her big blue eyes meet mine, wide, searching, brimming with something deeper than amusement.

The space between us thickens.

I dip my head, brushing my lips against hers. Not a kiss. Not yet. Just a question, unspoken.

She answers with a soft, shuddering breath—and that's all I need.

I kiss her hard.

Her moan vibrates against my mouth, sending a jolt of heat straight through me.

Fuck. Three days without her. Too long.

“I want to punish you,” I murmur against her lips, my voice low and laced with intent.

Her breath hitches, eyes darkening with desire. “How?” she whispers, her voice trembling just enough to betray her anticipation.

I pause, letting the tension build, my gaze holding hers. “Do you trust me?”

The question hangs between us, heavy and unspoken in its depth.

“Yes,” she answers softly, but with unwavering certainty.

Satisfied, I shift off her, rising to my full height as I stand over the bed.

I pull her up my body, capturing her lips in a kiss so intense it might as well come with a warning label, before pushing her onto the bed. I position her with her ass raised, chest pressed against the sheets, and her legs dangling off the edge like she’s auditioning for the world’s most provocative yoga class.

I shove her dress up over her hips, exposing her smooth unblemished skin.

“Nate—wait, what are you doing?” she stammers, twisting to look back at me, her tone hovering somewhere between what fresh chaos is this? and oh, tell me more.

I lean over her, my breath warm against her ear. “Do you still trust me?”

She swallows hard, then nods. "Yes."

Her voice is quiet but steady.

"Good," I murmur, dragging my hand down the curve of her spine. I take my time, letting my palm glide over the smoothness of her skin. When I finally speak again, my voice is low and deliberate. "I'm going to hit you."

She stiffens, a sharp inhale cutting through the air. "What?"

"Spank you."

Her breath catches, and I don’t miss the way her body squirms against the bed, her hips giving a little shimmy like they’ve already RSVP’d to this spanking party. “Oh," That sound—the soft exhale, heavy with anticipation—ignites something dark inside me.

I smile.

"Count with me," I order, my voice rougher now like a challenge.

I don’t warn her before the first strike.

The sound is sharp, sudden—louder than I expected.

Carina gasps. Her back arches slightly, like she doesn't know whether to move away or press closer.

"Count," I remind her, my voice firm.

She swallows. "One."

Good girl.

I bring my palm down again, striking the same spot. Her body jerks beneath me, but she doesn't pull away. I run my hand over the warmth of her skin, soothing the sting and savouring the way she trembles under my touch.

"Two," she whispers.

Another strike. This time, her breath hitches sharply, her fingers gripping the sheets.

"Three." Her voice is trembling now.

I dip my head, letting my lips brush against her ear. "You're doing so well, Princess. Only two more."

She shudders.

I let the moment build—let her feel the anticipation.

Then, I strike again.

"Fou—ah!"

The last slap comes before she finishes counting.

"Five!" she gasps, her voice breaking around the word.

I trail kisses over her shoulders, spine, and the side of her neck. Slow, reverent, I take my time, letting her feel my touch everywhere. Then, I turn her face towards me, capturing her lips in a deep, lingering kiss.

Her body melts against mine.

"You okay?" I murmur against her mouth.

She hums softly, then pulls back just enough to flash a coy, wicked smile. "I didn't know you liked stuff like that."

I huff a laugh. "Neither did I."

But I can't deny the satisfaction curling in my chest as I take in the sight of her—flushed cheeks, heavy-lidded eyes, and the red mark blooming on her perfect ass.

Carina pushes at my shoulder suddenly, flipping me over onto my back.

My grin widens.

She straddles me, spreading her thighs over my hips, her dress riding up to expose the smooth skin underneath.

Fuck.

I grip her waist, guiding her against me as she grinds against my cock, slow and deliberate. A breathy sound slips past her lips, and my patience snaps.

I yank her dress higher, tug the top down to expose her breasts. The sight of them—flushed, full, perfect—makes my blood burn.

I lean up, capturing a rosy nipple between my lips, biting down just enough to make her cry out.

"Nate!" she gasps, her hips rocking against me, chasing friction.

I groan, gripping her tighter. "I need to be inside you."

Carina moves like a woman possessed, shoving my jeans and boxers down in record time.

She crawls over me, her body warm and supple as she moves. My hands slide up her thighs, fingertips trailing lightly, teasing.

She shivers.

I let my touch drift higher, pausing before reaching her core. The fabric between her legs is damp, the heat of her arousal seeping through.

I grin.

"Did getting your ass spanked make you wet, Princess?" I murmur.

A breathy whimper escapes her lips. "Yes."

She rocks her hips forward, desperate for more, but I keep my hand just off-centre—close enough to drive her crazy, far enough to make her beg.

"You were such a good girl," I coax in a deep and smooth voice. "Tell me what you want, baby."

Her lips part, her eyes bore into mine, heavy-lidded. "You," she breathes.

I slide her underwear to the side, dragging a teasing finger through her slick heat.

"Me?" I smirk. "Where do you want me?"

"Inside me."

I chuckle, sinking a finger into her warmth. "What do you want inside you, Carina? My fingers?"

She gasps, hips stuttering. "Y… yes."

Another finger joins the first, stretching her, coaxing her open. My thumb circles her clit, slow and deliberate.

"That good, baby?" I murmur, watching the way she trembles.

She whimpers, thighs tightening. "Need… more."

"Use your words, Carina."

Her head tilts back, breath ragged. "Fuck me, Nate. Please fuck me."

A dark thrill curls in my chest.

"Why didn't you just say so?" I tease, winking as I grab the delicate fabric of her thong and rip it off in one sharp tug.

A gasp catches in her throat, eyes widening, but I don't give her time to react.

"Ride me, Princess."

She straddles me, gripping my cock as she guides herself down.

I groan, my head pressing back into the pillows as her heat swallows me inch by inch.

Fuck.

She's tight, so tight—her body stretching around me, taking me deep.

Her breath hitches, hands pressing against my chest for balance as she adjusts. Then she moves.

She rides me slowly at first, rolling her hips, testing, teasing. Then, when I grip her waist and urge her on, she picks up the pace, bouncing, grinding—chasing pleasure like she's starved for it.

My hands find her breasts, kneading, teasing, my fingers rolling over her sensitive nipples. She cries out, arching into my touch, hips slamming down harder.

I slip a hand between us, pressing my thumb against her clit. Her whole body jolts.

"That's it, baby."

She trembles, muscles tightening, a choked moan spilling from her lips. Her walls clench around me, pulsing, dragging me deeper into her heat.

"Fuck," I hiss, my control fraying. "You feel so fucking good."

Carina cries out, her body spasming as pleasure crashes over her. Her nails dig into my shoulders, her thighs trembling as her orgasm wracks through her.

Her pussy milks my cock, the tight, wet grip nearly sending me over the edge.

I grit my teeth, forcing myself to hold on.

Not yet.

Before she can fully catch her breath, I flip us, pinning her beneath me.

Her gasp is sharp, breathless.

I thrust back inside her, driving deep, forcing another startled moan from her lips.

Her legs fall open, surrendering to me completely mine.

I hook her knees over my arms, pushing her legs higher—spreading her wide, stretching her out beneath me.

A sound between a sob and a moan rips from her throat.

I fuck her hard. Deep. Punishing.

Sweat beads along my spine, my body strung tight, coiled, on the verge of snapping.

Carina's moans grow louder, wilder—desperate.

I reach between us, finding her clit, pressing hard.

She screams my name, her body clenching, trembling, coming apart beneath me.

Her walls tighten, flutter, and squeeze me like a vice.

I let out a ragged growl, my release hitting me like a fucking tidal wave.

Pleasure detonates through me, stealing my breath, ripping me apart and putting me back together all at once.

I shudder, thrusting deep one last time before collapsing, bracing my weight on my arms so I don't crush her.

For a long moment, neither of us moves.

Our breathing is harsh, erratic, and broken.

My forehead presses against hers, sweat-damp skin against sweat-damp skin.

I shift, brushing my lips against her temple, cheek, and swollen, kiss-bruised lips.

"You're my whole world, Carina," I whisper against her skin. “Don’t ever question that.”

She still trembles beneath me, body soft, spent.

Slowly, she opens her eyes—and when she looks at me, something in her gaze cracks me open.

She swallows, voice barely above a whisper. "I know."