Page 41 of Sacred Blood

He turned on his heel and left, leaving me to question my sanity in sharing what I did with him. Why would I make myself so vulnerable? At least he didn’t laugh. In fact, he’d shared in my moment of unguarded romanticism.

True to his word, when I entered the bedroom, my luggage was open on the settee across from the bed. Deciding on silk lounging pajamas in a deep red that looked cozy and sensual, I dressed and hustled downstairs.

When I found Tano, he was at the open glass doors to the deck, taking in the magnificent vista of ocean, beach, and forest. His place was almost magical and so was he. He stood tall and relaxed, the wind ruffling his clothes tight to his body, the setting sun outlining every muscle. Still a predator, but in repose instead of tense and ready to pounce. He was breathtaking and I found I couldn’t move my eyes away.

“Stop eye-fucking me, piccolina,” he said without turning around.

How the hell did he know?

“Caught,” I said. A nervous giggle followed as I stepped up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind. It was an intimate gesture, one someone in love would do, and when I realized that, I knew I’d fallen down the rabbit hole. All that remained now was to see if he would come tumbling after me.

Chapter Ten

Gaetano

Things were moving quickly with Gaby. What had begun as a desire to smack her voluptuous ass and bury my face between her thighs had turned into something out of my control. When I was a younger man, Monica had taken what I offered and used it to further her personal ambitions. How could I trust that Gaby wouldn’t do the same? I didn’t gamble; my world was too controlled for that, but now I would have to take a risk and allow the tiny beauty into my life if I wanted to keep her safe.

For the first time in years, I wished my father was here to offer advice.

When I was six, he'd told me to guard my heart. I'd spent most of my life believing that meant keeping everyone outside the family at arm's length.

Now I wasn’t so sure.

Perhaps I'd been taking his words too literally.

One day I was expected to take a wife and have children of my own. They would become my family too. My inner circle.

The thought brought Gabriella immediately to mind.

Before I could decide what that meant, the gentle patter of her footsteps sounded behind me, followed by the familiar scent of roses. She wrapped her arms around my waist and pressed herself against my back.

It was a simple gesture.

An intimate one.

And far more dangerous than I cared to admit.

I luxuriated in the sensation before plucking her arms from my ribs and drawing her around to her chair at the table.

“Sit.”

She plopped down and tucked her feet up onto the edge of the chair, wrapping her arms around her shins and peering up at me with rounded eyes.

“Relax. Have some wine and I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” she called out to my retreating back.

“You know I don’t like repeating myself, Gabriella. Stay where you are or dinner will get cold when I take the time to spank you with a wooden spoon and put you in a timeout.”

My mind played back to when I sent her to the corner after caning her, then wandered on to the spankings she’d enjoyed receiving and the ones I’d felt compelled to give her for misbehavior. More and more I saw the truth of our power exchange. I was shifting into a dominant Daddy, and she, my bratty girl. This was less about the act, and more about the psychology of it all. What the fuck was happening?

I couldn’t help the smirk when not only didn’t she backtalk me, but when I returned, she was sitting ramrod straight in her chair, the wine glass hovering at her lips. Her eyes questioned until I nodded my head, giving her permission, and she took her first sip.

A small moment, there and gone, but it hinted at something far greater. It wasn’t role play, no game of submission before a night of debauchery. Her probing glance had been guileless, seeking my authority and accepting it without hesitation. And I witnessed it and responded in the same instinctive manner. It was more than a diversion; it was a true and genuine connection, and I didn’t know how to feel about it. A part of me, the one I told her upstairs I thought I’d killed off, was delighted that I was still capable of the depth of feelings I had for her. The part that was no longer safe behind his emotional walls balked at the vulnerability.

“Mmm, delicious! Is this from your family’s winery in Italy?”

I set down a plate filled with lobster fettuccine done in an herb, garlic butter sauce that I knew Gaby liked. This one had been made by Simba, who tortured me with a big knowing smile and a wink when I stopped by to pick it up on my way to get Gaby. The original recipe was from our Nonna who’d made it for our Papa. He loved his food, and this dish had the buttery melt-in-your-mouth consistency that, when paired with our sauvignon blanc, was sheer perfection.