14
TATUM
Castello and I stepped out on the deck, and suddenly all eyes were on us. The only people I recognized among all the guests were Doc and Uncle Gino. Doc and I gave each other knowing looks, and my stomach turned. He has to keep my secret.
I walked beside Castello as he held my hand. It felt good—being at his side, dressed and feeling like a worthy woman. Every glance our way—my way—wasn’t filled with hate or disdain as I was used to getting from the Fattore family. But of respect and acknowledgement. It made me feel confident, as if I might actually be where I belong.
Castello stopped by a table stacked with glasses of champagne. “Here.” He handed me a glass, and I hesitated just for a second before taking the glass from him.
“Thank you.”
With one hand holding the glass, I placed the other over my belly. If I didn’t drink this glass of champagne, Castello would notice. Castello always noticed.
I held the glass to my lips, and turned my back toward him pretending to admire our surroundings. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice that I wasn’t taking an actual sip of the champagne.
“It’s beautiful out here,” I remarked as I stared out over the garden.
Castello stepped up behind me, his chest barely touching my back, but nevertheless it made shiver. “Uncle Gino’s wife, Angelique, has a great talent and love for gardening. You will meet her tonight.”
I glanced over my shoulder. “May I?”
He smiled, and held out his hand gesturing toward the stairs that led to the garden. Castello followed my every step as I walked down the pebbled path, admiring the beauty and the colors. White magnolias, vibrant colored birds of paradise, beautiful orange and yellow dahlias, and I smelled the sweet scent of orchids before I saw them.
For a moment I was lost within the colors. I walked within a world of beauty and perfection, untainted by the greed and the hate of man. Like most artists, I didn’t see shapes and lines, but emotions that shined through ever color, feelings that spoke through every outline and silhouette. It was beautiful…peaceful.
I felt Castello’s hand at the curve of my back. “It is truly magnificent to see you get lost within a world of your own.”
I glanced at him. “Are you not in this world with me right at this moment?”
Castello stared out in front of him. “My world has been black and gray for too long, little mouse.”
“It’s not too late to open your eyes to a different world, Castello.”
He looked down at me, eyes narrowed as he studied my face. “Maybe.”
I smiled and stared at the pebbled path. The pinks and yellows of dusk, the sweet scent of flowers, and the chirping birds as they made their way back to their nests made this moment feel almost…romantic.
“Oh, look.” I stepped off the path and into the soil. I didn’t care that I was probably ruining the five hundred dollar set of heels I was wearing. I stared up at the vine, and placed my fingers beneath the purple and white petals. “It’s a passion flower. Isn’t it beautiful?”
Castello leaned over my shoulder. “It sure is a very unique looking flower.”
“Very. The passion flower belongs to the Passifloraceae family. It consists of ten sepals and petals. It’s the unique shape that makes it my favorite flower.”
He placed his hands gently on my hips. “Why so?”
I glanced up at him over my shoulder. “For me different is good. Unique is beautiful. A common beauty loses its appeal when adored by too many.”
His fingertips travelled down over the curve of my hips, earning a shiver from my body. “A certain beauty can never lose its appeal.” Soft lips touched the skin of my neck, and I closed my eyes.
“May I ask which certain beauty you are referring to?”
The tip of his tongue moved all the way up the side of my neck until he reached my ear. “The beauty of watching you, witnessing you come undone under my touch. There is nothing as beautiful as you when you embrace and unleash your most carnal desires.” Slowly he started to pull up my dress. “Tell me more.”
“About what?”
“The flower. Tell me more about the flower.”
His fingertips brushed my skin as he pulled the skirt of my dress all the way up, the cold spring air wafting across my naked ass.
From where we were standing we could see the crowd on the deck through the passion flower vine. I was looking directly at them, but they couldn’t see us through the thick green leaves—I hoped.
“The passion flower is a part of five hundred species of flowering plants.”
His finger traced all along the slit of my ass. “Go on.”
“Most species are found in South America, eastern and southern Asia, and New Guinea.”
The sound of his zipper made me suck in a breath, my body already primed and ready to be taken by him.
Soft fingertips traced circles all around my flesh, and then I felt his cock gently prodding at the apex of my thighs. “Continue talking while you open for me, little mouse.”
I pushed my ass out a little, giving him access, and I whimpered when I felt his cock slowly pushing between my legs.
“The passion flower has a unique structure—oh God,” I moaned when he nudged against my entrance.
“Don’t stop, little mouse.”
With one hand I grabbed ahold of the vine, every muscle inside my body clenched tight with anticipation.
“The passion flower has a unique structure—” he eased his cock inside me “—which requires a large bee to effectively pollinate.”
“Go on.”
I pushed my hips out just as he gave a hard thrust forward. I dropped my glass of champagne and grabbed the passion flower with my other hand crumpling the petals in my palm.
“Passion flowers have great calming effects and is used in medicine to treat insomnia.”
Castello started to move faster as he eased in and out of me. I continued to keep my gaze on the crowd who were completely oblivious to what Castello and I were doing in the garden.
“Keep on talking.” He pulled me harder against him, pushing deeper inside me.
“Jesus,” I moaned.
“I said keep talking.” His palm met the skin of my thigh with a loud crack, and I sucked in a breath.
“Spanish explorers learned about passion flowers from native Peruvians.” Harder, deeper, faster. I gripped the flowers and leaves tighter in my palms. “They named these plants for their resemblance to a crucifix.” My voice was nothing more than whimpers and rapid breaths.
“The Passion is a term used to describe the final period of Jesus Christ’s life, including his crucifixion.”
Castello started to pound into me. His flesh slapping against mine, and the sound of his cock entering my weeping body over and over and over again, created a filthy melody to fill the air around us.
“Fiore della passione,” I whispered, and felt him pour every ounce of his pleasure inside me. I pushed my ass out even more since I was right there at the edge, ready to get pushed over. But Castello stilled behind me, easing his grip on my hips.
“I’m not going to let you come.” He swiped my hair to the side and placed a kiss just below my neck. “I want you to walk around tonight, needy and wanting.” He moved his other hand around my waist and his hand dipped between my legs. “I want you to ache right here.” He pushed his finger against my clit before dragging it toward my entrance. “And I want you to spend every moment thinking of how fucking good it’s going to feel the next time I’m inside you.”
“Castello.” I wanted to beg, but he brought his finger up to my lips.
“Shh. Don’t talk, just obey.”
He spun me around, my body still buzzing with need and lust which I knew would not dissipate, not before he gave me what I needed. And after the simple act of submission he had shown me earlier, I needed him more than ever. Not just my body, but my mind, my soul…my heart. Deep down I’ve known that I had fallen for this man when I was still his prisoner, but I just wasn’t ready to admit it to him…or myself. But the words were starting to burn my throat, trickling on my tongue, begging to be said. It was only a matter of time before those words would slip out and become reality.
With intense, dark, mysterious eyes he stared at me while removing the blue tie from his shirt collar. “Even though I would love nothing more than to see your thighs dripping wet with my cum while you mingle with our guests tonight, I don’t think everyone would appreciate the sight as much as I would.”
He placed his tie between my legs and rubbed the silk against my wet folds. It took every ounce of my self-control for me not to rock my hips. My body was that goddamn desperate for release.
Castello cleaned my inner thighs, then tucked the dirty tie in his jacket pocket. He took my hand in his and opened my palm, revealing the purple crumpled petals of what once was a beautiful passion flower.
“It’s so easy to destroy a delicate beauty, to watch it wither and wilt.” He took my chin between his fingers lifting my face toward him. I shivered as he placed a gentle kiss at the corner of my mouth. “I pray I don’t destroy you, little mouse.”
***
We walked up the stairs, my body still electrified by what Castello and I had just done. It felt oddly thrilling walking among the other guests knowing they were completely oblivious to the fact that Castello and I had just fucked in the garden, and that the apex of my thighs still bore the evidence. But it wasn’t just my body that felt alive, my heart felt as if it had the power to break through my chest. I was happy. There was a part of me that felt…happy.
Castello leaned in to me as we approached his uncle. “That pussy of yours better stay wet for me, little mouse.” He stepped away just as his uncle came within hearing distance.
“Uncle Gino.”
“Castello, I was wondering where you two were.”
“I was just giving Tatum a tour of your beautiful garden.” He placed his hand on my back, and heat spread along my cheeks. I was flushing again.
“Ah. My wife deserves all the credit when it comes to our garden.” He glanced around until his gaze found a blonde woman standing by the table with the champagne glasses—an American woman. “Angelique,” he called out. “Come meet Tatum Linscott.”
The woman smiled, and she picked up two champagne glasses. I watched her with intent as she walked toward us. Uncle Gino, I guessed, was probably in his fifties while this woman looked no older than mid-thirties, yet Castello had told me they had been married for twenty two years. She was beautiful. Light blonde curls hung just above her shoulders, and with her slender frame she looked amazing in the navy-blue cocktail dress she was wearing. It was easy to see that she was well taken care of.
Uncle Gino reached out and placed his arm around her waist. “Angelique, this is Tatum Linscott, Castello’s guest. Tatum, this is my lovely wife, Angelique.”
She smiled and held out a champagne glass. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Tatum.”
“And you.” I smiled in return as I took the glass from her, trying to think of a way to get rid of it without making Castello suspicious.
“Castello took her on a tour of your lovely garden,” Uncle Gino said, beaming as he stared at his wife. It was obvious that he loved her. It was written in the way he looked at her.
“You do have a lovely garden, Mrs. Fattore.”
“Yes,” Castello chimed in. “Tatum is especially fond of the passion flowers. She told me all about it.”
I almost choked on the damn breath I took, and glared his way. But Castello’s face remained stoic.
Sly mother—
“Oh yes, the passion flower are one of my favorites too,” Angelique said before taking a sip of her champagne. I took it as my cue to pretend like I’m drinking as well by merely touching the glass to my lips.
“I hope Castello has been making you feel at home during your stay here.” Angelique shot him a coy look. “He has been very reluctant to share you with us.”
“Oh believe me, Angelique, I’m reluctant to share her with anyone.” Castello allowed his hand to drop just above the curve of my behind, and my body willed him to touch me so much more.
Uncle Gino let go of his wife. “Castello, could I have a word with you?”
“Sure, Uncle.” Castello leaned into me and placed a kiss on my cheek before whispering, “Stay wet for me.”
I bit into my lower lip, my body instantly electrified, everything south of my navel clenched tight. How did he do it? How did he manage to turn me into a needy whore with nothing but words?
Angelique stepped closer as we both stared after the men. “Castello reminds me a lot of Gino.”
“How so?”
She smiled. “He has that same passion, that same protectiveness when it comes to those he cares about. His father and Carlo never shared that passion.”
I shifted nervously as the memory of Carlo came rushing back. Angelique was right. Carlo didn’t have the same passion as Castello. He wasn’t nearly the kind of man Castello was. Carlo was charming, charismatic, amiable…tame, while Castello was fierce, ardent, volatile, and unpredictable. Twins who couldn’t have been more different. That was, if I ever really knew the real Carlo.
“Can I ask you something?” I turned to face Angelique.
“Of course.”
“What is it like…you know, being married to a man who is part of such a powerful family?”
She stared at me knowingly, as if she could see the reasoning behind my question. “It’s—how can I put it—challenging at times. Italian men are not easy to live with. And like I said, Gino and Castello are both very passionate men.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “But when they love, they love fiercely, and there is nothing like being loved by a Fattore man.”
I smiled shyly. “Oh, I don’t think I’m loved by a Fattore man.”
She held her lips against her glass as she stared at me. “I do not believe for one second you are that naïve.”
“Naïve?”
She took a sip of champagne. “I see the way he looks at you, Miss Linscott.”
“Tatum. Please call me Tatum.”
“Tatum then.” We started toward the steeled rail at the end of the deck. “I’ve seen Castello with a few women over the years, and believe me when I say that he has never looked at any of them the way he looks at you.”
“And…how does he look at me?”
Her full lips curved at the corners. “Exactly the way his uncle looks at me.”
I twirled the champagne glass between my fingers, thinking about the dream I had of Castello telling me he loved me. Somehow, deep inside, I liked the idea of Castello loving me. Somewhere within the depths of my heart I think I wanted him to love me.
I placed my hand on my belly wondering what it would mean for me—for us—if Castello had to love me. For the first time since seeing those two little pink lines it all seemed simple. If he loved me, surely he would love the life growing inside me.
“Is there something wrong with your drink?”
I looked up at Angelique. “No. Not at all.”
“You haven’t been drinking. Are you feeling okay?” Her blue-green eyes stared at me with suspicion, and then her gaze dropped to my hand holding my belly. “Gino told me you weren’t feeling well earlier today, that you had a dizzy spell.”
I immediately removed my hand, then pretended to take another sip of my drink. The liquid barely touched my lips before I brought my glass back down. “I’m fine. Doc thinks it’s just stress.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Yes…I’m sure it is.”
We stared at each other for what felt like forever. I felt uncomfortable under her gaze, but not because of any hostility between us. In fact, I liked her. But I felt uncomfortable because it seemed like she was staring right through me, straight at the secret I was carrying inside me.
I shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m going to go find Castello.”
Just as I walked passed her, she called out, “Tatum.”
“Yes.”
I turned to face her, and she gently took the glass of champagne from my hand while giving me a knowing look. “Don’t try to understand him. Rather trust in him. Men like Castello are impossible to understand…yet easy to love.”
She gave me a heart-warming smile before joining the other guests. I remained still, staring after her for the longest time. Something about her reminded me of my own mother. The way she carried herself, the way sophistication followed her like a shadow. Even her blonde hair resembled my mother’s. For the first time since all this started I longed to see my mother again. When we first arrived here after that fateful, horrible day, Castello and I had only addressed the subject of my family once. I asked him what would happen to them, and his answer was simple, “Nothing. Nothing would happen to them as long as they knew…nothing.”
I didn’t even dare ask Castello what they had been told, what happened to me and my father. I didn’t want to know. Not knowing was better for me—especially now. Besides, after everything that had happened, would I be able to go back to them, back to my old life?
I glanced at Castello still chatting with his Uncle. No. I don’t think I’d ever be able to return to a normal life—whatever normal was. Castello had become my new normal.
Our gazes met, and his dark stare conveyed the same message he had whispered in my ear earlier. “Stay wet for me.”