Page 19 of Heart's Temptation
She finally turned her head in my direction. Sad tears stained her cheeks. “Yes, Daddy,” she spat.
I glared at her. “I have never been, nor will I ever be, your Daddy. If you want that, you know where to find it, obviously, because Marko was the first one you called when you needed help, not the man who could actually provide it.”
I nudged her across the threshold into her room and slammed the door shut, stomping down to my suite to make it clear we were done here, for now.
I'd been awake for close to twenty hours and although that wasn’t unusual, the added emotional angst was zapping me of my usual ability to overcome fatigue and I needed a quick nap to recuperate.
The elevator was on lockdown. No one could come or go, and my men were on alert at the entrances to the building, the stairs and the elevator, just in case her stalker ended up being a cyber-security expert that could override my private code.
I stripped and got in the shower quickly because there was one thing I needed more than a nap. With one hand on the wall for support, I gripped my length in the other. My cock was painfully hard and in need of relief. It was impossible to stay focused when images of Niki’s naked body in Markos bed appeared unbidden in my thoughts.
After a few moments, the image flipped to one of her crying just now. The loop continued adding in her pouty lips when she slapped her mouth to keep from retorting, until I blew my load into my hand.
After a quick clean-up, I dried off, climbed in my bed and immediately passed out.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Nicolette
After Gio slammed my door and left me alone in the guest room, I sank to the floor and cried. Not because he was cruel—I knew him better than that—but because all traces of the loving man I’d left behind had been replaced by a cold, calculating cynicism that I didn’t understand. It had been too long since I’d been in his sphere, too long since listening to intense dinner conversations in the Vitale mansion, and way too long being on my own.
Marko had changed too, like he’d traded up from jeans to custom-made Italian suits. His outward appearance had changed, but deep down, his character hadn’t. The added toughness and take-no-prisoners attitude made me hungry to be taken by him. Back at the hotel, I’d drunkenly crawled into his bed, hoping he’d take me like in the old days. He’d gently declined my advances and threw an arm over me, falling quickly back to sleep.
When my eyes grew too heavy to resist anymore, I’d fallen asleep with his heavy arm sinking me into a blissful place of peace and safety I hadn’t felt in a long time. Gio finding us that way in the morning was both a blessing and a curse.
Hail Mary full of grace.
His anger showed that he felt something for me, but it also showed me how hurt he was.
I hadn’t fought his demand for my return home, knowing that he would ensure I lived through my final performance. Now, I wondered if being so agreeable and compliant was such a good idea. I’d put my life into the hands of a very angry man who was capable of anything.
Frustrated and upset, I finally went to the one place that offered freedom from hurtful thoughts and scary feelings—dance. It didn’t matter if I was in class or rehearsal or just dancing on my own; nothing burdened me. Dance brought solace to my soul, and it was in those moments that my world made sense.
I’d always danced as a child, at least until my mother passed. Afterward, if my father caught me dancing, he would always punish me. He hadn’t been able to cope with losing my mother, and her death had destroyed the human part of him, leaving a nasty enforcer behind to raise their daughter.
Moving and switching to a school that offered performing arts had been a huge blessing. I spent hours in church thanking Mary for my luck changing for the better. That would have been enough to help me float in an attitude of gratefulness for the rest of my life, but I’d also found Gio and Marko.
They’d become my family and the entire Vitale clan along with them. Guilt and shame stole through me at how much pain running away from them must have caused, especially when coupled with the death of Luciano, Gio’s father.
So many times, I wished I could reach out to Isabella, but each time I pressed the buttons for the house number, I’d hung up. What would I say? How could I explain my reasons for leaving to the only person who’d been like a mother to me, even more than my own had ever been?
Screw it! I changed into a tank and shorts and grabbed my shoes. I tiptoed down the hallway to find Gio’s bedroom. The blanket was thrown back and I couldn’t help staring at his body and the changes in it since I’d last seen him naked. He was muscular, but far from bulky. Gio had always been way too handsome for his own good, drawing women like bees to honey.
His legs were larger, stronger than before, his chest widened and tapered to a sexy V at his trim waist… His long, thick cock lay against his inner thigh, a sleeping beast that called to me to touch it. Before I could give in, he moved onto his side, hiding the temptation from sight.
Tiptoeing back the way I’d come, I headed outdoors and into the sun. The brightness of the day mocked my inner melancholy, and I almost went back inside. But doing so would just sink me back to the buzzing thoughts of doubt and introspection I longed to escape.
I sat down on the edge of the stage and put on my shoes, flexing and pointing until they felt just right. I put in my air pods, a gift from my sponsor, and found my warm-up playlist.
I worked through plié, ronde de jambe en l’air, and a host of classic warm-up poses until I felt sufficiently ready to leap and twirl. The play we would be performing in a few weeks was a modernized, bastardized version of Firebird called The Debt, the script having been rewritten by my director, Sergei, the supposed great-grandson of Sergei Diaghilev, a talented man who helped to bring Firebird to the stages of Russia and Europe at the turn of the last century.
I imagined myself as a bird with magical abilities, envisioning Gio as the great hunter who spared my life in exchange for a boon. My mind wandered to Marko, always the negotiator, the prince in search of the magical bird he’d fallen in love with.
It was easy to see the irony of the love story in the ballet, Firebird as being my last performance as prima ballerina. If God had a sense of humor, I would be the punch line.
As I deepened into my role, those comparisons drifted, as did the doubt and angst that had been my companions since seeing Gio for the first time that morning. The cloudless blue sky hovered above me as I leapt and spun, trying to evade my fate, only to finally fall to the ground, exhausted and captured by the relentless hunter.
This was one of my favorite parts. I bowed my head in acknowledgement of the two choices I had. Either submit and live or fight and die. I loved this part because it allowed me to explore through movement what my entire life had been: a struggle between two opposing forces.