Page 30 of When She Tempts (The Fallen)
A prickling feeling appears at the back of my neck. Can he know? No, this is just his desperation coming up with scenarios that would explain why his sperm donor never contacted him.
“Polo, he got it. It’s time for you to move on.”
Placing my hand on his shoulder, I give it a squeeze. His jaw tenses, and then he steps away from me, letting my hand drop.
I watch him retreat.
It’s been two years since he came into my life. Two years since Signora Silvestri, his disabled mother, called me and begged me to take him in. She was dying, and he was her only son. As an only child myself, I knew exactly the lengths good women would go to ensure a decent future for their offspring. I couldn’t say no.
She passed almost as soon as the arrangements were put in place, her soul finally free of burden and ready to let go.
Ever since, I’ve wondered if that’s how my mother felt right before she died, or if the horrors of her past just became too much.
She struggled her entire life for me.
Becauseof me.
My “father” was useless. Even before I knew the truth about their marriage, I was repulsed by him. On occasion, he’d try to give me a hug when he was intoxicated enough to turn affectionate, but I’d never let him. It didn’t take him long to give up.
Visiting him is something I loathe, but sometimes he has information no one else does. The most he attempts now is a handshake.
Polo never met his father, which has to be the reason why he’s done nothing but romanticize the idea of him. One day, he’ll have to let it go.
That day may be forced on him sooner than later.
I lock the office door behind me and make my way to the stairs. Through the window by the landing, there’s a direct view of the edge of the garden, and I think I see a flash of Martina’s golden hair.
A vise squeezes around my chest at seeing her all alone. At breakfast, she looked a little like a lost puppy when everyone was eating with us, but I don’t blame her for being overwhelmed at being thrown into a new environment and meeting new people.
Allegra and Tommaso worked here even before I bought the property. It’s their home far more than it is mine, even if I own it on paper. Still, I don’t want them to be too much for Martina. Perhaps it’s best if they take some meals separately from time to time. It’ll give me a chance to better understand what’s going on inside her head.
She already seems to be doing better. That hollow look in her eyes is gone. She’s annoyed with me, but I can deal with her anger. While she’s working on getting her phone back, she’s focused on something other than her own thoughts, and anything is better than being stuck in your own head.
She’ll heal one day at a time, and when I return her to De Rossi, he’ll be even more indebted to me.
Before I know it, I’m outside, walking in the direction of the garden.
She’s easy enough to spot kneeling amidst all the green. A full basket of tomatoes sits a few meters away from her, but now she’s picking strawberries and she’s so absorbed in the task she doesn’t even notice my shadow falling over her.
I frown. She needs to learn how to be more aware of her surroundings. I’m going to give her a few more days to think about the self-defense classes before I insist on giving them to her. The thought came to me last night while I was lying in bed. I put myself in her shoes and thought about how I’d feel if I was overpowered by someone the way she was by Lazaro.
Some confidence in her own ability to fight back if something like that ever happened again can’t hurt.
I’m about to say something to get her attention, but then she picks out a fat strawberry and brings it to her lips. I watch her profile as she takes a bite, and blood rushes to my groin.
Fuck.
How many times do I have to remind myself she’s a teenager? I know better than to fantasize about having those lips wrapped around my cock.
And yet I do.
Frequently.
I clear my throat.
She whips around, that plump mouth covered in pink juice before she laps it away with her tongue.
I bite on the inside of my mouth.
