Giulio gives me nothing and so my fingers leave his face and resume down to his sweater. There’s a small division between the hem and his black leather belt and dark slacks. I overlook the position of my hand so close to his crotch and lift the cashmere material.
He groans and I immediately apologize. My words are followed by an immediate frown at the sight. His impeccable olive skin is marred with a collection of dark bruises. They span from his chest to his toned abs and diagrams to his right side.
“Please,” I whisper. “Tell me who did this.”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t or you don’t want to?”
Giulio reaches up with his thumb to wipe away my tears. “I don’t want my opinion on the person to influence yours…Darling, don’t cry for me.” I don’t miss the sorrow in his tone or how he grimaces, as if the concealment of truth is toiling with him.
It has to be someone I know.
“When did it happen?”
“Yesterday. Before therapy.”
“But I didn’t see any bruising yesterday. Why didn’t you tell me at therapy?”
“I didn’t want to worry you.”
I lean my head into his hand, needing his touch to cure all the explosions and tattered feelings inside me. The warmth he gives can raise me out of this mess. It will raise me up.
“Whoever did this is not on my team. Not when they do this to you.”
“I promise I’m okay.”
“Was it Bryce?”
He shakes his head.
“A client?”
Another shake.
“Marcus?”
Giulio tightens his jaw and it’s the only answer I need.
What. The. Hell.
Marcus could not get away with something like this! Beat up his own brother? No. No, that doesn’t sit well with me. Not one bit. I’m incapable of staying reserved. Not under this circumstance.
“Why would Marcus do this?”
“I don’t really want to talk about it right now. I didn’t retaliate, maybe I should have…”
“No. You did the right thing.” My fingers slowly glide a path around the bruises, across his chest, down his abdominal muscles and toned obliques. “Was it because of me?”
Giulio’s eyes drift from mine. I can see the agony in them, no matter how hard he attempts to downplay the hurt with his hand outstretched and caressing my hip bone. “It was because of our father and also something else.”
I feel for him. I really do. Although Marcus and I are on civil terms now, it still worries me that Giulio’s only sibling is doing this to him.
My hand fans out by his navel as I lower my head. My lipstick proves its transfer proof, not once spreading its creamy rose pigment as I slowly kiss my way up across all of his torso. Moans escape his throat. Ones so sensual I continue up his neck, but purposely skip his face to meet his right ear in a hot murmur instead. “I understand that this is between both of you, but I will always be here for you when you need it. Even if I will never be able to walk in your shoes, I will listen.”
Giulio stands up, takes my hand and walks to his leather chair. With his free hand, he combs through his tousled hair. I rarely see him like this, so split between the two men he is. The invincible businessman everybody sees and the generous, tender man reserved for the ones closest to him.
My doubt washes away. I don’t regret a single thing when I straddle him and he simply holds me. I make sure not to put too much pressure against him but Giulio creates it anyway, ignoring his hurt. Separated by fabric, his hands draw circles my lower back, inches from the zipper of my black square neck jumpsuit with ruched long sleeves.
I melt as he nuzzles into my neck and presses a long, sultry kiss against the base. I melt.
“I know you will always be here to listen.” His stubble grazes against my delicate skin as he pushes back my straightened hair and peppers kisses up my neck. My body throbs deeply for him, that it plunges me into ecstasy. I want him. “You’ve always helped me, Lencia.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through it alone.”
“Don’t be. I wasn’t alone. I had you in my heart.”
The kisses stop and we stay like this, desperately holding onto each other. I never want to move. I think he needs this embrace as much as I do. Giulio always presents himself as this fierce, powerful man, but I relish the times he lets his guard down.
Sometimes it’s salvation.
Giulio feels so damn familiar because he is familiar. I’m enticed by the smell of fresh, masculine Versace cologne and him. The way he was kissing my neck, the softness in his touch, the look in his eyes prompting the electricity sparking through me… it’s all him.
“Do you think I could have killed Bryce that night?”
I cup his jaw and the Italian man who stares back at me is all I know. “No, of course not.”
“He hurt you.”
“Yes, but not to that extent. You know I’ve always believed in justice for any sort of vendetta. Letting justice play its part is exacting the best revenge.”
Giulio swallows loudly. “I know.”
I will never get sick of the forehead kisses he gives. Of all the tenderness and affection it projects. Even in this uncharted territory, they bring me back to life. Back to him.
“But I think I could have. If he went any further, I think I would have.”
Oh.
I rise up from his lap and glance out the window behind him. Is Giulio really capable of killing somebody? No. He wouldn’t ever do that. He wouldn’t cause further suffering for Oscar and Slonne. Yes, I admit that maybe when it comes down to protecting family maybe he…no. There is always a line to cross. The line of ending
