Page 48 of Wicked (Wicked Billionaires #2)
As I move quietly in the castle chamber, I try not to distract Raven. As Tito trots over to her, he puts his head between her legs.
Raven reaches down to pet him, but she remains firmly in the zone. “Hey, boy.”
I want to do the same as Tito, and I want to bury my face between her thighs. I want to taste her cum on my lips, and I want to swipe her silky flesh.
Raven makes marks on her notes, then she sighs and looks up. “Hey!”
“Hey,” I say, trying to be more human than my cold grumpy normal self. “Get a lot done?” I ask, trying to be all casual.
Raven stands, and she stretches like a sexy cat. “So in the zone. It’s a good room for writing. It may be the feng shui.”
I’ve read about the Chinese energy belief, and I rate it myself. The room faces the ocean and sunset, and it may have something to do with it.
As Raven walks over, we find each other and kiss. We should not be doing this kind of thing, but I gave up trying to understand whatever we have and what it’s becoming.
As I hold my top student, I look down, and I wonder if she needs an F or an A. As we pull back, I toss my pad on the table. “I think I need a break.”
“Me too,” Raven says with a sigh.
“Feel like a walk?”
We head up to the back of the castle to the top of the hill over the cliff. It has the best view of the coast, and the trees are stunning and dramatic.
A wind blows from the rich blue Mediterranean Sea and Raven snuggles in. I wrap my jacket around her as Tito runs ahead and looks around.
Raven sees the old family cemetery with the aged stones marking my ancestors, and she takes my hand.
As we walk up and around the fallen and lost, I have mixed feelings. I’m a proud Italian, and I am proud of my heritage.
My frustrations with my parents are another thing. Them wanting me to marry into a known and powerful Tuscan family, and them wanting me to be a banker or lawyer is another thing I have to bury or shun.
As Raven and I separate, she heads along a line of stones and old crosses.
I slow, and I take in the names of family members I’ve heard of and of others long forgotten that I don’t recall.
As Raven brushes leaves from several headstones, I return to my grandfather’s grave. I sit on another, and I look down at his and think.
I feel Raven stand behind me, and she leans against my back. She wraps a caring arm around me as Tito looks down on the village and beach below.
“It’s an amazing view,” Raven says. “And a nice view for them all.”
I nod, and she’s right. It feels good Raven is here, whatever that means. I’m the least sentimental person I know, and that’s likely why I operate like a cold lone wolf.
For whatever reason, maybe it’s the castle sale, Raven, Tito, and my grandmother combined, I feel emotional.
I’m either getting soft and losing my shit, or I’m maturing and becoming human. Who the heck knows.
“This is my grandfather’s, my Nonno,” I say. “He was more like my father than my actual father. He basically taught me everything I know.”
Raven sits, and she rests a hand on my shoulder. It’s cute, even if it makes me feel like a teenager and not some tough corporate survivor.
“He was the husband of my grandmother, Nonna.”
“The cool, full of life one? The freethinker?”
“Yes,” I say.
“They must have been quite the couple.”
“The coolest couple ever,” I say before pausing. “They still are.”
Raven leans into me, and she speaks low. “That’s right. They are.”
Tito wanders over, and he sits with us. I rub his head, and he looks up at me. I tell my lone wolf self that there is no harm in sharing energy like this and opening myself up. I have never done it, ever.
One day, I’ll have to work out why I’ve become such a cold, isolated human. What the hell am I thinking?
In a week, or a month, I may never see Raven, or even Tito, again.
As I feel them both against me, I try to work out what the hell is going on, and why here and now people and beings are connecting with me.
Maybe it’s just the universe, or maybe, just maybe it’s Nonno. I’ve never fallen in love, and I’ve never told a woman I love her. Maybe I’m too walled off. Too isolated. Too controlling and too commanding.
Too inhuman and maybe, just maybe, too messed up to love.
As I try to work out why I’m such a lone wolf, I remember being sent to boarding school as a kid.
That was when I was forced to become a family of one . To fend for myself and stand up to bullying. To also protect others from bullying.
From when I was young, I was a family of one, and I lived in boarding schools.
I never had the full protection of a normal family or tribe, and I always had to be on guard.
I think about my last decade, being in NYC, and carving my way through life. Being alone, being single, and in and out of short, wild relationships has been good, but there is something about the touch of another. And something about connecting.
As a cold isolated son of a bitch, and male, I’ll one day have to understand what women naturally get or understand that we do not.
That connections are key, and becoming an island is not entirely healthy.
As we sit in silence, I pat Tito, and he looks down at the village. I follow his eye, and I look down to the trees, dunes, horses, and cove.
As Raven leans against me, I start to miss my grandfather. My anchor in life. I pull Raven closer, and she snuggles in. It feels good. Too good.
Even if it can never last, it feels good… Here and now.
As we walk back down to the castle, I’m quiet and contemplative. I try to work out if all this connecting to my past and opening up is good and productive. Or if I’m messed up, broken, and unfixable.
No good to anyone.