Chapter 3

Three

Penelope removed Odette's coat and began to undress her.

Odette stood frozen, her loose arms at her sides. Her knees weak.

For some very unusual reasons, her heart had not stopped racing.

Not since Mr Moretti's corridor encounter.

Not since Nico's arm went around her waist holding her in place against his chest. 

He'd touched her hardly at all. Only one hand. Only a few inches of closeness.

And yet…

Her body was still flamming from his touch, her thighs still squeezing tight in instinct.

It was not something she'd ever felt before.

The quick loop within her belly.

That throbbed thoroughly somewhere below her hips, that had her shifting slightly on her feet now just to find some relief from this strange heat.

"Ma'am?" Penelope's soft voice broke the silence. "Are you all right?"

Odette nodded too quickly. "Yes. I'm— I'm—fine." She says her breath caught repeatedly.

Penelope unfastened the back of her dress, as Odette remains perfectly still staring at the floor, discreditably replaying that moment over and over in her mind.

She'd never had a man, not even close enough to feel the heat of his chest. She'd never even seen one naked. Salvatore had never touched her.

He'd never made her want or feel anything.

But just few moments ago his younger brother seem to have.

He hadn't even tried much.

And still, she ached all over.

"Pen—" she said abruptly, the words on her lips before she could take them back.

Penelope looked up slowly. "Yes ma'am?"

Odette paused, then nipped her lip. Her voice fell to a whisper. "Have you ever."

Penelope waited.

"Do you feel something odd." She pursed and bit the side of her lips. "I mean. When someone touches you."

Penelope blinked. Realizing immediately what she meant.

Odette's cheeks flared hotter. "Low. I— I do not know how to—" she paused again nipping her lips. "It's like there's something bound up inside you. And warm. And. it won't go away."

She looked down, shame creeping up her spine.

Penelope's expression relaxed. Her tone quieted. "You mean in between your legs?"

Odette blushed and glanced away quickly, mortified. "I didn't mean— I wasn't trying to—it just that—that. I feel—” Her voice became too soft to hear. " I feel strange. I—I feel something. Lower. I feel so much—heat.”

Penelope gave a gentle motherly smiled, "it not a bad feeling ma'am. It’s supposedly more than normal. It happens to every woman, especially the first time someone stirs something in her." She continued softly. "Desires—"

Odette's lips parted, but they remained quite. She sits down on the corner of her bed, folding her hands in her lap, her heart still racing in her chest.  

"Desire." she thought solely her face searing with heat. That was what had her wanting to be more than few inches close the him. She nipped her lips unable to stop herself from somewhat wondering what might happen if he ever did so again.

Her face moderately flamed with embarrassment as heat coalescing low in her belly afresh.

Lords.

Where had that thought come from?This was Nico. Her husband's brother.

It was a sin, to allowed such thoughts Invade her mind.

Penelope reach for a robe and placed it over Odette's body, then reached for the robe belt and tied it gently around Odette's waist.

"Will you have some tea after you wash up, ma'am?" Penelope asked kindly, trying to clear the tension in the air.

Odette nodded. "Yes—very much, thank you."

Penelope smiled kindly and slipped away very quietly.

Odette entered the shower, few seconds later Odette realized the hot water could not wash away the aching in her chest or the warmth still smoldering low in her belly, but it did softened the rough edges enough.

Half an hour later, she came out, her black hair washed back and wetness running down her shoulders. 

There was a tray down on the little table by the fire: a hot white cup within arm's-distance and a matching teapot. A coverlet of almond biscuits lay next to some hot dinner rolls, beside a covered bowl of some savory stuff. Of course, Penelope had brought her dinner.

Odette walked slowly toward the chair and sat down. She lifted the white teacup to her lips and broke into a cautious sip before going for one of the biscuits.

Just before she brought it to her lip, she heard a suppressed groan of her bedroom door closing.

Odette turned her head halfway, pausing. "Penelope?" she asked.

There was silence. Then her maid slipped into the room again.

"Was someone at the door just now?" Odette asked, setting the biscuit down.

Penelope hesitated for a moment.

Then clasped her hands together. "Sir Nico, ma'am."

Odette froze. 

“He wants to see you in Sir Salvatores study,” Penelope continued.

Odette's throat dried as she swallowed another bit of harshness with her tea.

Her heart began to beat quicker and quicker as she simply placed the cup down on the floor.

"Very well, pen. Fetch me a sleep garment"

Odette slipped into the red nightgown Penelope had laid out for her. Not shortly after a chill trailed her up the spine after an unpleasant sighting of herself in the mirror. It was a color Salvatore liked very much: he always wanted it and always insisted it be worn without underwear.

He would say that she was less hideous that way.

"Penelope," she uttered, "Get me something else. Another nightdress. And underwear." 

Penelope was folding up Odette's robe when she stopped dead in her tracks. "Ma'am… I don't think Sir Salvatore would—" 

"He's dead, pal," Odette cut in, spinning around to face her.

The room was silent for a heartbeat until Penelope's lips began.

"Yes, ma'am," Penelope responded in a faint voice whereas nodding and hastening to fetch a supple white nightgown and some folded underthings.

Odette exhaled slowly and reached back for the mirror again. 

"Would you like me to walk with you, ma'am?" Penelope asked in a soft voice, wringing the edges of her gown, as Odette makes her way to the door. 

Odette paused, her hand on the doorknob. "Don't go to any trouble."

Penelope's brow furrowed, worry consuming her face  "Then I'll wait for you here."

Odette turned away from her again,  her eyes gentle. "You've not slept all the time we've been here, Pen. Rest. Nico's not going to hurt me. I promise."

When Penelope remained silent, Odette's voice hardened. "That wasn't an invitation, Penelope. That's an order."

Penelope finally glanced down and nodded softly. "Yes, ma'am."

Odette smiled feebly before she turned around towards the door, the hem of her white nightgown whispering across the floor.

-----

Odette gave the door to the study a warm ping.

It opened almost at once.

And standing released from the funeral suit was Nico. And—at least he had taken a shower. His dark hair was yet, tousled as if he'd run a few fingers through it. He was wearing a black button-down shirt, with the top buttons undone to the lines of his collarbone. His sleeves had been pushed up to reveal his clean yet amazing tan on his forearms. He smelled clean. Warm. Masculine, which stuck on her mind even though she had barely dared to inhale.

Her throat closed.

Her eyes moving against her will—to the opening of his shirt. To the hollow of his chest. The faint layer of moisture on his collarbones. Her stomach tightened sharply, a huge knot twisted somewhere inside of her, so tight that she almost forgot how to stand.

Her thighs heated.

Lord.

Nico was... appealing.

She swallowed hard, drawing a bit of composure to collect her thoughts and look away, but it was too late.

His gaze caught hers as she tried to pull it up from his chest.

His eyes gave nothing away.

But she knew he saw her looking.

Her face flamed. While some thorough heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks making her heart pound way too fast.

He said nothing, simply stepping away from the door to let her in. As soon as she walked in, he shut the door behind him. 

Odette glanced around the study. The lighting was low, the shelves floor to ceiling were filled with books, and across the room was a wine cellar filled with wines. 

"Odette," Nico's voice interrupted her wandering thoughts.

Odette turns, the sound of her name on his lips making her face flush and making more heat go up her neck settling low in her belly.

He stepped forward, standing inches from her, and asking her almost immediately. "How did you do it?"

Odette's brows rose slightly; a breath getting stuck in her throat.

"What—?" she choked out.

Looking up at him and drawn in despite trying to look away.

His jaw was sharp, defined perhaps a little more than she recalled from the funeral. There was a small wrinkle between his brows, and another faint-white one-just between his eyes. 

Her gaze slowly dropped to his mouth.

His lips were—The lower one slightly fuller than the upper, an observation she gave way too much thought to. She swallowed hard, something stirring low in her stomach.

What might it feel like to touch those lips? To leave her own on his?

Would they be warm? Would it be hard? Rough? Would she melt away in it?

Would he push her away? Would he linger. or ravish her?

The thought came rushing in—turbulent and perhaps dangerous.

She had never been kissed. Not really. Not like the women who veiled passages of her beloved dirty books she read secretly in bed at midnight

And lord preserve her, why was she doing this?

This man—this man was her husband's brother, and, and still her pulse beat like hummingbird wings, with shame and desire rolliing in her belly, together.

Her mouth fell open without her willing it, the words dammed up behind the storm inside her.

She barely heard him speaking again.

"How did you do it Odette?" he asked again.

Her lips parted as her heart pounded against her breast.

What—" she gasped, her voice trembling. “What—?” He moved closer until there wasn't room between them. The warmth of his body pressed against hers, the scent of him—fogged in her mind.

Then his mouth came down, his lips beside her ear, his breath on her skin searing.

"Just how did you end my brother's life, Odette?”he breathed.

All in her stopped.

The fantasy broken—the thoughts of his lips and what-ifs were shattered in that instant, reduced to ash by the venom in his words.

Her eyes flew open, the warmth which had accumulated in her belly now turned blindingly chilly. Her chest convulsed and shot upwards, rising and falling against his.

She stepped back, as if the distance could shield her from the words echoing in her brain.

"I… I didn't," she breathed, her head shaking. She scanned his face for something—doubt, maybe. Or just the man he'd been five seconds prior.

His hands shot out, yanking her forward unto his chest; with his other hand, he held up a thick black file, eyes locked on hers. “You did not? Well, should we take a look at this evidence then?”

Odette looked up at the file in shock and disbelief, her heart racing fast against her chest, she could barely breathe as she looks up at the file in his hand, her vision quite fuzzing slightly. "I…I'm a suspect in my husband's murder?