Chapter 8: Tell Me To Rescue You...And I Will.

Wilhemina-

By the time I walked into the breakfast room Monday morning, Emilio was already there.

Honestly...I was shocked he was even here. I thought for sure after we got back last night he would go running to Yazmin.

Coffee in one hand. Phone in the other. Expression unreadable.

“Morning, Mrs. Saldini.”

“Morning, George.”

He pulled out my chair before placing coffee and breakfast in front of me. I thanked him, picked up my phone and began scrolling.

Silence. Heavy, suffocating silence. And then...

“Look…about the wedding—”

“What about it?”

Emilio's eyes lifted.

“Wilhemina…why do you have to be so fucking hostile about everything?”

I slowly placed my coffee down.

“When exactly was I hostile?”

“You…” He paused. “At the wedding. What you did was completely uncalled for. Yazmin told me what she said. It was nothing like how you painted it.”

I chuckled.

“Now I see why she thinks mistresses are more important than wives.”

His eyes darkened.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, let's see.” I leaned back. “You’re never home. You refuse to even remotely be civil with me unless someone important is watching. She gets all your devotion. Your affection.”

His expression flickered.

“No wait...there's more…you held an entire fucking wedding ceremony for her on our anniversary—”

“I already explained—”

“Oh! And my personal favorite…” I smiled coldly. “Hearing the two of you fuck like rabid dogs in a bathroom stall.”

Every ounce of color drained from his face.

“I…you…” His words jammed inside his throat. In the end, all he could say was... “You heard that?”

I scoffed.

“Had it not been for the music, I’m pretty sure the entire wedding would’ve heard her screaming your name.”

His jaw tightened.

“Although…” I picked up my coffee. “You must be quite the accomplished lover.”

The mockery wasn't lost on him. Neither was my disgust. For several seconds, Emilio simply stared at me. And still…no apology. Not one fucking word admitting he had been wrong. He stood abruptly.

“What are you doing today?”

“Same thing I do every Monday.”

My tone remained flat. Distant. Something about it infuriated him.

“I’m going to work.”

I shrugged and continued eating.

“Have fun.”

His stare remained on me before he finally stormed from the room. The second I heard the front door close; I grabbed my phone. Technically, I wasn't working today.

After three days in Aurora, I'd cleared my Monday schedule the previous week. And suddenly…I knew exactly how I wanted to spend it.

Me: I'm off today.

Three dots appeared almost immediately.

Angel: Come see me.

I smiled.

Me: Now? Is the Den even open this early?

Angel: It opens when I say it does.

A laugh escaped me. Arrogant bastard.

Me: I'll be there soon.

Angel: I'll be waiting, kitten.

My stomach fluttered.

The Angel's Den felt completely different during the day. Mostly because it was empty. No music. No masked strangers. No bartenders. Just the quiet elegance of black marble, burgundy furniture and gold. My heels echoed through the enormous room.

Then....

“Kitten.”

I turned. There he was. Black shirt. Black trousers. Black-and-gold mask.

My Angel.

He stopped several feet away. His head tilted.

“You're not wearing your mask.”

I shrugged.

“What's the point? You already know who I am.”

A chuckle escaped him.

“Fair enough.” His amusement slowly faded. “I hope you understand…I can't remove mine yet.”

I studied him.

“There are things I can't reveal right now.”

A tiny piece of disappointment settled inside me, but I nodded.

“I understand.”

His shoulders seemed to relax.

“Thank you.”

I hesitated.

“What would you have done if I'd said I wasn't okay with it?”

He stilled. For several seconds, he said nothing. Then...

“If keeping it on meant I couldn't see you again…” His voice lowered. “I'd take it off.”

My breath caught.

“Our meeting mean that much to you?”

He approached slowly.

“No.”

I swallowed. He stopped directly in front of me.

“You mean that much to me.”

My heart raced.

“Why?”

His head tilted.

“Why do I mean so much to you? You don't even know me.”

My eyes unexpectedly burned. God. What was wrong with me? A tear slipped free. He became perfectly still. Then his hand rose. His thumb gently wiped it away.

“Don't cry.”

His fingers slipped beneath my chin, tilting my face upward. His lips brushing against mine.

“You're entirely too precious to cry.”

And then he kissed me. It was gentle. Sweet. Sensual. Nothing like the desperate hunger of our first night. This kiss felt terrifyingly different. Like he wasn't trying to seduce my body. He was trying to reach something much deeper.

And God help me…I let him.

By the time we reached the private suite, restraint had become considerably more difficult.

He kissed me against the closed door, my arms wrapping around his neck as his hands settled at my waist.

“I missed this,” he whispered.

“I missed you too.”

“I know.”

His lips brushed mine again.

“You have no idea how much I've been craving you.”

I laughed softly.

“Then show me...please.”

He paused for a moment and then...he kissed the desperation away from my lips. The world outside that room disappeared.

Emilio. Yazmin. My father. Every expectation attached to the Saldini and Rucci names.

Gone.

There was only him.

His hands. His kisses. The way he touched me as though every reaction mattered. The way he kept watching my face, giving me the space to pull away even while making it nearly impossible to want to.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured.

“You.”

His forehead rested against mine.

“Say it again.”

“I want you.”

Something almost tortured moved through his expression.

“Fuck, kitten.”

When he carried me toward the bed, I laughed against his mouth.

Later, wrapped in tangled sheets and his arms, the intimacy became slower, softer...heated kisses, whispered words, my fingers tracing his shoulders while his mouth brushed my temple.

“You're so beautiful,” he murmured.

I closed my eyes. His thrusts making me feel as if I were in heaven.

“Say it again.”

I whispered against his lips.

“You're so beautiful, my love.”

My love? Oh God...I was too disoriented to question him...I'm not even sure if I wanted to.

“I missed you so fucking much.”

My voice was now husky as his thrusts began to speed up. 

“I missed you too. I won't let you go...ever again.”

"You can't say things like that to me."

"Why?"

“Because I might start believing you.”

He went silent and still. Then he gently turned my face toward him.

“Then believe me.”

My throat tightened. He kissed me again as his thrusts began once more. And somehow that frightened me more than anything else. Because sex was something I could explain. Desire was easy.

But this?

The way my chest ached when he looked at me? That was becoming dangerous.

Our late brunch arrived sometime after noon.

I sat across from him wearing one of the Den's silk robes while he began to massage my feet. Jesus. If he kept this up I wasn't sure I would be able to finish my lunch.

“So…” he said. “Tell me about this wedding that felt like a funeral.”

I groaned.

“You remembered that?”

“I remember everything you tell me.”

Of course he did. So I told him. About Amber. Yazmin. Our little courtyard confrontation. His mouth twitched when I repeated my comment about the twenty-two-year-old secretary.

“That's my fiest kitten.”

“She deserved it.”

“She did.”

Then I told him about Emilio confronting me afterward. About breakfast. And finally...the bathroom. His amusement disappeared completely.

“He fucked her at the wedding?”

I pushed food around my plate.

“In a portable bathroom, technically. I guess screwing her the night before hadn't been enough.”

Silence.

The kind that made me look up. Even behind the mask, I could tell he was furious. His jaw was clenched. His fingers tightened around his glass.

“He humiliated you like that?”

“He didn't know I was there.”

“That doesn't make it better.”

“I know.”

Another silence.

Then....

“Why won't you divorce him?”

My fork stopped halfway toward my mouth. I lowered it.

“It's not that simple.”

“Why?”

“I can't.”

“Why not?”

I stared at my plate.

“My mother.”

His posture changed. So I told him. About the accident. The coma. The specialists. The private nurses. The treatments...and my father.

“If I leave Emilio, my father stops paying for everything. That would actually been okay accept...he's also her guardian. I don't get a say regardless.”

His voice became dangerously quiet.

“Your father threatened your mother's life to keep you married?”

“He doesn't see it that way.”

“How the fuck does he see it?”

“As protecting the family.”

His lip curled with disgust.

“That's not family.”

I gave a bitter laugh.

“Welcome to the Ruccis.”

He watched me.

“Do you want to be free of them?”

I froze. My lips slowly curled into a sad smile.

“Of course I do.” My voice cracked slightly. “More than anything.”

I stared down at my hands.

“But I can't betray my mom. If there's even the smallest chance she'll wake up someday…I can't take away the treatment keeping her alive.”

Silence filled the room. Then...

“Do you want me to rescue you?”

My eyes lifted.

“What?”

His stare never left mine.

“Because if you want me to…” He leaned forward. “If you say the word…” Something in his voice made my heart pound. “Tell me to rescue you, Wilhemina…” A pause. “And I will.”

I couldn't breathe. He knew my name. Of course he did...if he managed to find my number he at least learned my name. Hearing it from him should've frightened me. Instead, tears burned behind my eyes.

Because no one had ever asked me what I wanted. Not my father. Not Emilio. No one. And now this mysterious man was sitting across from me offering the one thing I'd stopped believing existed.

Freedom.

____

It was after seven when I finally returned home. I stepped through the foyer, still thinking about him.

Tell me to rescue you…and I will.

God. What had I gotten myself into? I started toward the staircase.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

I froze. Slowly, I turned. Emilio sat in the shadows of the grand room...waiting. My face paled.

“Emilio? What are you—”

He stood...slowly. His expression wasn't irritated. It wasn't annoyed. Instead...it was something darker. He walked toward me.

“I said…”

His voice dropped low...menacing.

“Where. The. Fuck. Have. You. Been?”

My heart slammed against my ribs.

Fuck.