Thin Lies (Donati Bloodlines #1) (23 page)

He
made her crazy.

Why
did he have to be the one to do that?

Emma
cried out when she felt the loss of Calisto’s fingers from between her thighs.
Her desperation quickly melted into a low moan when his cock slid between the
wet, fleshy lips of her pussy and filled her full with one smooth push.

“Jesus,”
Calisto breathed into her neck. “You’re so good under me,
mia dolcezza
.
So good.”

Tears
dampened Emma’s lashes all over again.

He
felt so much better than good.

Insane,
even.

Deep
in her soul, it hurt, too.

Emma
shuddered, and fisted the bedsheets. “Why does it have to be like this?”

Calisto’s
body moved in slow, unhurried strokes. His fingers dragged down her skin,
lighting her body up with sparks of pleasure. “I don’t know.”

“It
shouldn’t be this good,” she mumbled.

“It
shouldn’t,” he agreed, his tone husky and dark in her ear. “Just let me make
you come, Emma. Just a little more, okay? One more time. Let me do that. I want
it.”

She
needed it.

“Please,”
she said, backing into his next thrust.

Calisto
groaned heavily. His hand found the back of her neck, holding her down. Emma
let him use her, fuck her harder until her throat was dry and she couldn’t do
anything but simply feel.

It
was wonderful.

Messy,
stupid, and beautiful.

She
came hard, shouting his name, and hurting on the inside. His come painted her
back not five seconds later.

Apparently,
she had been wrong. He wasn’t wearing a condom. Through her panting and lost
senses, Emma didn’t care. Calisto mumble words that made no sense. She tried to
focus on what he was saying, but his voice was muffled into her neck.

“I
would if you were mine,” she heard.

Barely.

Emma
blinked, feeling tears slip from her eyes. “Would what?”

Calisto’s
hand tightened in her hair. His tugged her head sideways, giving him access to
her cheek and mouth. His kisses peppered her face, taking away the fresh tears
and the new ache with every press of his lips. When he found her mouth with his
own, Emma felt owned by the possessive swipes of his lips and the demanding
strikes of his tongue against hers.

“Keep
you,” he said against her mouth. “If you could be mine, Emma. I think I would
keep you.”

But
she wasn’t.

So
he couldn’t.

Emma
said nothing.

Five
minutes later, when Calisto rolled her over to her back and spread her legs
wide, Emma let him fuck her again. She sucked his fingers clean while he
grabbed her jaw, forced her to watch him above her, and fucked her until she
was raw all over.

One
more time
,
he said, like he had earlier.
Just a little more.

One
more time should have been enough.

It
wasn’t.

“Miss
Sorrento?”

Emma
glanced up at the unfamiliar voice, only to find a man around her age waiting
with keys in his hand.

“That’s
me,” Emma replied.

She
looked behind her, wondering where Calisto had gone to. Despite sitting beside
one another on the plane, he had gotten lost in the flood of people as they
began to exit at the terminal.

Where
was he?

“I’m
Carter,” the man said, bringing Emma’s attention back to him.

“Nice
to meet you.”

But
what did it matter?

“Affonso
sent me to pick you up,” Carter said, shrugging. “He figured I could explain it
to you as well as he can. I’m your bodyguard, your driver, and whatever else
the boss needs me to be for you. We can grab your bags and head out. There’s a
dinner at the Donati family home, and you don’t want to be late.”

Emma
frowned. “Who is driving Calisto?”

“Cal
left his car at the airport when he flew out to Vegas. I imagine that’s what
he’s taking back to his place.”

His
place
.

A
coldness settled over Emma’s heart, layering it in ice.

They
had happened.

They
were done.

Her
and Calisto, it was what it was.

New
York was the line, she realized.

Calisto
had drawn it.

“I
didn’t know Affonso was having a dinner,” Emma said, wanting to get away from
her thoughts. “He didn’t mention anything about one.”

“Last
minute thing. His daughters got in from boarding school a day earlier than
expected. The weather cleared up. What he wants, the boss gets. You ready?”

No.

She
would never be.

“Sure,”
Emma said.

“New
York isn’t Vegas, so you might want to put on your coat.”

Emma
didn’t bother listening.

She
couldn’t get any fucking colder than she already was. The ice in her veins was
cold enough to freeze hell.

Carter
started walking away and Emma followed behind him without saying a word. Out of
the corner of her eye, a familiar form caught her attention.

Calisto
leaned against a wall with his suit jacket dangling from his fingertips. He
watched her, unashamed but as impassive and aloof as he had been that very
first day.

Masks
were meant to be worn.

His
was like stone.

Raising
his hand from his side, Calisto waved two fingers in Emma’s direction before he
dropped it back in place.

Like
it hadn’t even happened.

Like
they hadn’t happened.

Emma
wished it were true, but she couldn’t forget. The familiar glint in Calisto’s
eye, taking her in and looking her over from afar, said that he couldn’t
forget, either.

New
York should be their line.

Emma
didn’t think it would be.

Affonso’s
daughters were beautiful creatures with eyes made of fire. When their father
wasn’t looking, they glared across the table at Emma like she was the worst
thing to grace their presence.

Michelle,
the youngest, barely spoke two words when she had been introduced to Emma
earlier. The oldest, Cynthia, sneered her hello and then walked on past her
soon-to-be step-mother with the disinterest of most teenagers.

Out
of all the things that Emma knew would be difficult when she became the wife of
Affonso Donati, his children’s rejection was the hardest. They had grown up
with another woman as their mother, someone they loved and adored.

It
was not Emma.

She
couldn’t fill whatever holes they had.

“Where
is Calisto?” Cynthia asked her father.

Affonso
stopped eating at his spot from the head of the table. Peering down the way at
his oldest daughter, Affonso shrugged like he didn’t give a damn. “The flight
probably tired him out. I’m sure he’ll be around to take you out for dinner at
that place you like so much.”

Strangely,
Emma’s heart warmed at the knowledge that Calisto was mindful to spend time
with his cousins. He certainly didn’t have to, but it was nice to know that he
did.

“He
promised,” Michelle said, a whine in her tone.

Affonso
cocked a brow at his youngest daughter, silencing whatever else she might say
in an instant. The rest of the table quieted as well.

Emma
had been quick to notice how the men surrounding Affonso at his dinner table
weren’t all that different from the men who surrounded her uncle and father at
their dinners. The Don was the most important man in the room. His voice was
the only one that needed to be heard when he was speaking. Attention was mostly
focused on him unless he directed it elsewhere.

Affonso
was a king to them.

He
wasn’t Emma’s king.

Her
introduction earlier as she joined the dinner had been to the point, and over
before she realized it. A setting was already placed for her at the table,
along with a chair for her to sit at Affonso’s side. Her things were upstairs,
waiting for her to unpack.

She
hadn’t even explored the house yet.

Leaning
over, Affonso said quietly, “You have your own room, for now. That’s where I
had your things put.”

Emma
nodded, thankful for the space. “Thank you.”

“After
the wedding, you’ll move into my room.”

Anxiety
thrummed deep in Emma’s chest. She managed to keep it hidden.

“Yes,
Affonso.”

No
one seemed to notice their exchange.

“Daddy?”
Michelle asked.

Affonso
gave his daughter a passing glance. “What, Michelle?”

“We
don’t have to call her mom, right?”

The
entire table quieted of chatter almost immediately. A few utensils dropped from
the hands of the guests, clattering on the table. A throat cleared down the
way, but Emma couldn’t gain the courage to see who it was. She didn’t know who
most of the people were, anyway.

Embarrassment
settled in Emma’s stomach, and a pain followed right behind. The girls looked
at her like she wasn’t meant to be sitting where she was. Their mother had
probably owned the spot before Emma had taken her place there.

I’m
sorry
,
she wanted to tell them.

The
girls wouldn’t understand.

She
didn’t want to take their mother’s place. She hadn’t asked for any of this. The
marriage, the wedding, and her spot as their step-mother was not of her
choosing.

Emma
didn’t want to hurt them.

Affonso
sighed. “Michelle, now is not the right time to be asking that sort of thing.
You know better, hmm?”

“But
it’s important,” Michelle argued in all of her fourteen-year glory.

“Michelle—”

“I
won’t call her mom,” the girl interrupted fiercely.

Cynthia
snickered at her sister’s side, but kept her gaze down on her plate. At
sixteen, Emma expected more issues from Cynthia than Michelle. She was closer
to Emma’s age, after all. Apparently, Michelle had other plans.

Affonso
waved his fork at his youngest daughter. “Go.”

Emma
straightened in her chair, confused.

Michelle’s
face fell, crestfallen. “But, Daddy—”

“Go,
I said,” Affonso muttered. “Do not make me repeat myself,
ragazza
. You
are crossing the line tonight with your attitude. I won’t have you disrespect
the woman I am marrying. Take your plate and eat in your room. Tomorrow, we’ll
see if you have changed your opinions at all.”

“Affonso,”
Emma said quietly. “It’s okay.”

She
ignored the way everyone turned to look at her, including Affonso’s two
daughters.

“She’s
just a girl,” Emma added. “She doesn’t understand, and she doesn’t mean
anything. She’s just trying to make sense of how she feels.”