Chapter 4: Back To Reality...

Wilhemina-

I stared at my coffee for nearly three minutes before realizing I hadn't taken a single sip. Pathetic. Absolutely fucking pathetic.

I sat alone inside the breakfast room dressed for work, a tablet beside my plate, several emails waiting for responses, and an untouched bowl of fruit in front of me.

Normally, my mornings were structured. Breakfast. Emails. Market reports. Foundation updates and then in the office by nine.

Today? Today, I couldn't stop thinking about a masked stranger. My fingers tightened around my coffee cup. My mind kept replaying it. His mouth against mine. His hands. His voice.

God...

I closed my eyes and immediately, I was back there. Back beneath the golden lights of his private suite. Back beneath him.

From this moment on...your body belongs only to me.

I'd heard those words and still said yes. Worse...I'd wanted to. My cheeks heated. Afterward, there had been one final moment when I could have changed my mind. He'd stared down at me, his expression suddenly serious beneath that black-and-gold mask.

“Last chance, kitten.”

My heart had been beating so violently I could hear it.

“For what?”

“To tell me to stop.”

I didn’t. Instead, I'd reached for him, his forehead touching mine.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

One word. That was all it took to permanently divide my life into before and after. Before him...And after. I remembered the brief wave of pain when my innocence disappeared forever. That of course turned into a euphoric bliss. My fingers had tightened around his shoulders, my breath catching as he immediately stilled.

His mouth brushed my temple.

“Look at me.”

I couldn't. Not immediately. Everything felt overwhelming. New. Intimate. Terrifying.

“Kitten.” My eyes slowly opened. His gaze held mine. “Stay with me.”

My breathing steadied.

“That’s it, baby” he'd whispered, his thrusts slow. “Just look at me.”

And somehow...I had trusted him. A complete stranger. A man whose name I didn't know. A man whose face I had never seen. Yet in that moment, I trusted him more with my body than I'd trusted my husband with my entire life.

The realization should have horrified me. Instead, remembering it sent warmth rushing through me. He'd kissed me again. Slowly. Deeply. As though he had all night.

“You have no idea how special you are.”

My heart had squeezed painfully as the tears slid down my cheeks. A mixture of pain and pleasure not just from his thrusts but from my broken heart.

“Don't say things you don't mean.”

His body went still. Then he caressed my cheeks as he kissed my tears away.

“What makes you think I don't?”

He whispered into my ear and push deeper inside me. My moans becoming my only form of communication. I hadn't answered. Because how could I? How could I explain three years of being unwanted? How could I explain standing beside a husband who never looked at me the way this stranger had? His thumb brushed my cheek.

“Whoever he was...” he'd murmured, almost thoughtfully.

My eyes widened. He smiled.

“He'll never know your true worth and how much you can be valued.”

Something about that nearly broke me. I tried looking away. He wouldn’t let me.

“Tonight, you don't think about him.” He thrusted as his lips brushed mine. “You don't think about whoever hurt you.” Another kiss, another thrust. “You think about me.”

My breathing trembled. I could feel my body beginning to tighten as my nails slid down his arms.

“Oh...oh my God!” I yelled out in a voice I no longer recognized.

“Thank you, baby.” He breathed.

A laugh slipped out through my cries. He kissed the corner of my mouth as he began to speed up his movements.

“I love that sound. And I love that smile. Wear it only for me!”

He was fucking me so well if he continued with the sweet nothings I would have probably told him I love him!

The memory shifted. His voice against my ear. His arms around me. The overwhelming closeness of another person after years of sleeping beside an untouched pillow.

“You belong to me now. Your body is mine.”

I remembered gripping him tighter.

“You're very possessive for someone who doesn't even know my name.”

He'd gone strangely quiet. Then... “You'd be surprised what I know.”

I'd assumed he was teasing. Now, remembering it, something about the comment made me pause. My brows furrowed. What had he meant?

“Mrs. Saldini?”

I nearly jumped out of my chair. George stood in the doorway.

“Jesus, George!”

His brows rose.

“My apologies.”

I pressed a hand against my chest.

“No. I'm sorry. I was...thinking.”

“I noticed.”

There was something suspiciously close to amusement in his voice. I narrowed my eyes. George immediately became the picture of professionalism.

“Would you like more coffee?”

“No. Thank you.”

He nodded and disappeared. I groaned. Wonderful. Now even the staff knew I'd apparently lost my mind. My phone buzzed. I grabbed it.

Clara: Good morning. I trust you had a wonderful anniversary. The board requested a meeting this afternoon regarding the proposed international development site. They'd also like to discuss a potential new investor. I've scheduled it for 2:30 unless you'd prefer another time.

Reality returned with brutal efficiency. Wonderful Anniversary. HA! So that people wouldn’t talk, every year for the past three years I’ve been taking off two weeks under the guise of celebrating my anniversary with my oh-so loving husband.

Truth…it will always be stranger than fiction.

Me: Thank you, Clara. Mr. Saldini and I had a wonderful time. And 2:30 is fine. Have the site projections and expansion reports ready before noon.

Three dots appeared.

Clara: Already on your desk.

I smiled. There was a reason she was my assistant. I stood and grabbed my tablet. The Rucci-Saldini Foundation had been relatively modest when I took control of it after marrying Emilio. Domestic charities. Hospital donations. Scholarships. The occasional fundraising gala designed mostly to generate favorable press.

Three years later, we'd expanded internationally. Hospitals. Schools. Women's programs. Medical research. Children's initiatives. Arts and music programs. Disaster relief…and that wasn't all I handled. Despite what the newspapers liked to imply, Emilio didn't personally oversee every legitimate company carrying the Saldini name.

I did.

Financial reports crossed my desk. Development proposals came through my office. Executives called me when negotiations stalled. I oversaw foundation investments and routinely stepped into the legal businesses belonging to both families whenever problems arose.

Emilio handled plenty. Unfortunately, half of his attention belonged to the underworld and the other half seemed permanently lodged up Yazmin's ass.

Which left me cleaning up everything else. I glanced at my watch.

8:07.

“Time to return to the real world.”

Twenty minutes later, I climbed into the driver's seat of my car. Then I remembered. The card. My gaze moved toward the compartment beside me. Don't do it…I opened it anyway. The black card sat exactly where I'd left it several days ago.

No name. No address. Only a number embossed in gold.

I touched it and remembered; days earlier, I'd been sitting on the edge of his bed while slipping my heels back on. He approached and held something out. The card. I looked at it.

“What's this?”

“A way to reach me.”

My smile disappeared.

“I can't.”

“Can't what?”

“See you again.”

Silence. For the first time all night, I'd genuinely surprised him.

"Why not?"

“Because I'm married.”

I wasn’t even sure what possessed me to say that. He stared at me. Then slowly looked toward the ceiling.

“You're a married virgin.”

“Former virgin.”

His gaze snapped back toward me. I covered my mouth, but the laugh escaped anyway. He stared another second before shaking his head.

“Who the hell are you married to? Jesus?”

I laughed harder.

“More like Lucifer.”

Something flashed in his eyes.

“Does Lucifer know where his wife is tonight?”

My amusement faded.

“No.”

If only he knew…not only did Emilio not know…he was my three year anniversary present to myself.

“And I'm assuming you'd prefer keeping it that way.”

“Yes.”

He stepped closer.

“You're afraid of him?”

“No.”

That answer came easily. I wasn't afraid of Emilio…not really. I was afraid of everything surrounding him. My father. The families. My mother's care. The consequences.

“It's complicated.”

His fingers brushed my cheek.

“Complicated things can be simplified.”

“Not mine.”

His eyes held mine for several seconds. Then he pressed the card into my palm.

“Keep it.”

“I won't use it.”

“Keep it anyway.”

“I told you, tonight was a one-time thing.”

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

“Then keep it as a souvenir.”

I smiled.

“You don't seem like the sentimental type.”

“I'm not.” His fingers closed mine around the card. “But if you change your mind, call.”

“And if I don't?”

His thumb traced my knuckles.

“Then I’ll just have to find my kitten another way.”

I froze. Was he being serious? It was becoming hard to distinct fact from fiction with him. Still, I had smiled despite myself.

“Goodnight, my Angel.”

A chuckle escaped his lips. As if there were irony to my words. He leaned down and kissed me once more. This time, it was slow but also…possessive. As if he were leaving one more mark on his territory.

“Goodnight, kitten.”

The memory faded. I stared at the card now resting between my fingers. One call. That was all it would take.

“No.” I dropped it back inside the compartment. “I can't go back.”

I slammed it shut. Still…for some reason…I couldn’t just throw it away.