<Every time I look in the mirror I see a person I truly hate. And then I realize it's not a mirror, it's a window>

|Kian|

Friday, July 23, 2021

IT WAS official. Zaverio De Santis was a huge ass.

The bastard was kissing my wife's hand now in goodbye, his ugly lips lingering for too long on her skin. Glowering darkly, I wished to blast those fingers, wreathed in silver rings, away with a gun.

"You are truly beautiful, Jadesola. Donna molto bella. I see why Kian remarried now." He glanced at me, a mocking glimmer in those hooded eyes and pressed another kiss on the tip of her fingers. "I cannot wait for our dance tomorrow night, bella."

Jadesola blushed, red spots on both cheeks, even with the darkness of her skin. She peered at him beneath her lashes, shy. "Thank you, sir."

Did she like this idiot?

Pissed, I narrowed my eyes into slits and jerked Jadesola's body close to mine, wrapping a possessive arm around her waist. A surprised gasp left her lips while Zaverio straightened up, his own lips twitching in a small, knowing smile.

In a brusque tone, I said, "Remember my conditions, Zaverio. You will dance with her for no more than fifteen minutes. After all, it's our honeymoon and I would love to dance with my wife more than any other man."

He nodded his dark head, curls slicked back. "Of course, I wouldn't want to impose on your time with your beloved. That would be annoying." His silver eyes sparkled in amusement.

My jaw ticked, anger fizzing rapidly in my blood. The man made everything a joke, a taunt. Even his first statement had been mocking when he'd arrived. He'd turned to me, arrogant brows cocked up, drawling in that his stupid, accented Italian voice, "Who would have thought that you would finally get married again, Kian?"

Stupid cunt. I hadn't but still.

He glimpsed at the gold watch clasped on his wrist. "While it's been an honor talking with you both, it's time for me to take my leave."

Pushing a strong hand in my direction, he held it out.

I contemplated taking my time to return the gesture but I flicked the thought away. Despite how maddening his actions were, Zaverio was still doing me a favor.

I shook his palm, certain that mine bore a strong dominating grip. The contrast of his skin against mine was striking, warm olive against tanned gold. Trails of his intricate tattoo designs against my own untainted skin.

He retrieved his hand, a mocking tune laced in his words as he said, "Nice doing business with you, Kian."

"Feeling is mutual," I replied in a stiff voice.

Zaverio regarded me for a minute. A stare down, those glittering eyes bore into my skull, piercing and fierce. As if he wanted to know what made me tick.

Annoyance increased the blood flow around my face and I chewed the insides of my cheeks, tense. He got on my last nerves but I wouldn't display just how much exactly. Showing my displeasure to men like him was like walking into a lion's den, unprotected.

I must have passed whatever test Zaverio had evaluated because he smirked and shifted his attention to Jadesola again, his lips curled upwards. "While it was nice meeting your husband, it was nicer meeting you, bellissima."

My right fingers tightened into a knot. Could the moron stop with the endearments? I wasn't dumb neither was I lacking in his language. I could call my wife beautiful in Italian too.

A charming grin graced my wife's face as she ate it all up. "Same here, sir."

Zaverio smiled. "Kian. Jadesola." He dipped his head in courtesy and within seconds, was exiting Pierre Gagnare, long legs swallowing the distance between him and his limo.

I watched him, a malicious glare marring my facial features.

Dressed in a black immaculate suit, Zaverio stalked towards the exit, radiating power and affluence. An aura of superiority. People shifted away from him, creating a wide berth for him to pass through. As if they had recognised the mean streak he possessed. A god who stepped on mortals while he ascended high.

Most times, I suspected the man was neck deep in illegal businesses but he never gave any indication. Not from his kinky dark hair, impeccable dress sense or the tip of his expensive designer shoes.

Still watching him, I observed Zaviero enter the car and his driver zoom off.

Heavy clouds of gloom that had enveloped the atmosphere disappeared. The whole room seemed to be lighter, airy now he was gone. Music from the violin was cheerier, the chatter from customers, a steady thrum. Evil had dispersed. For now.

Loosening my tie, I released Jadesola from my tight grip and returned to my previous position, relaxing my ass on a seat.

Jadesola pressed her gray pencil skirt down and equally sat. "He told me he's half Nigerian. I think I like him already."

Like him already? Forcing myself to dismiss that statement, I slanted a brow. "How do you know he's Nigerian?"

"I do because you were too busy glaring at him to notice." She stirred her pineapple juice with a straw.

"I don't like him." I reclined against the lush chair, bolting my eyes close for a second. Anger reopened them and I sat upright. "He never said anything about canceling the meeting on Monday. Like he had every right to. It's fucking annoying."

"Figures." She'd stopped stirring the drink and was rummaging through her handbag.

It occurred to me to ask what she was searching for but I was already in rant mode so I spoke, still furious, "Who the the fuck does he even think he is? Asking you for a dance? It's not in any way related to the car deal."

Zaverio had gone straight to the point, his sentence clipped and brisk, "I will only give you the Velasquez car bargain if you let me dance with your wife at my party tomorrow."

Jadesola shrugged, pulling out a little notebook and pen. She scribbled something down and placed the items inside her bag. Flicking a twist behind her ear, she stirred her juice again.

"I was surprised too but don't think too much of it. It's expected in business. Tit for tat. Mr. De Santis is a typical example of an arrogant billionaire who will do anything to have you within their clutches and beneath them."

"I mean that was how you trapped me." She shot me a level stare and popped the straw between her lips.

Guilty, I flicked my gaze away. She didn't even know half of what I'd done. Strings I'd pulled to get her sitting right in front of me. "Doesn't still excuse his request, Jadesola."

"Mhmm." Her voice came out muffled as she sipped. A drop of juice rolled down the corner of her full lips and all the annoyance fizzed out, blood rushing towards my loins.

The memories I'd tossed away returned in full force, invading my mind. Jadesola's tempting body parading before my hungry eyes, naked. Jadesola changing her clothes before me. Jadesola clad in that skimpy teddy. And the one action that had undone me, a wickedly arousing Jadesola sitting on my cock.

Fuck.

My blue balls tingled, the carnal reminders of her blatant seduction last Monday night settling in.

Even now, I suspected that she would have let me fuck her brains out if I hadn't asked for permission to touch her. The moment had been precious, why the fuck had I talked?

But I had to. Despite the suggestive words and provocative smiles, I'd glimpsed a shadow of fear in her amber eyes. Jadesola remained scared of me.

Another question struck. If she was still terrified, why seek me out?

"I think you should get a tattoo." Her words floated into the air, knocking off the naughty thoughts that ached to lick off that tiny pearl of juice that lingered on her skin.

Blinking into focus, I frowned at her. "Get a tattoo?"

Her tongue flicked out and swiped the drop of juice off. Mentally gulping, I lowered my hand beneath the table as if to place it in my pockets and adjusted my straining cock, trying to focus on what was being said.

"Yep." A corner of her lips lifted in a smirk as if she knew what exactly I'd done.

Chagrin swamped me but I brushed it off and swept both my palms on the table. It was her fault I was this bothered. "I'm not exactly following. A tattoo? Why?"

For the first time since I'd met Jadesola, she wriggled her eyebrows in a playful manner. "It'll make you irresistible to the ladies, with that dark and mysterious air around you. Did you not see Mr. De Santis? The tattoos on his hands? And the side of his neck? Damn, I know I'm married but Lord is that man yummy!"

Instant jealousy flared up in my heart, eyes darkening till I saw red. "I'm not interested in getting a tattoo. I've passed that wild college stage. There are companies to buy. Contracts to maintain. Shares to sell. No one gives a shit about a brooding bad boy."

Which businessman still wore an ear stud anyway? Fucking pinhead.

Jadesola shook her head, drinking glass, half-empty. "Well, I disagree. His brooding is hot as fuck."

"I don't see it." Envy stabbed at me. Not only was I irked she found him appealing, I was also infuriated that our first full blown conversation centered around that idiot. Yesterday, Jade hadn't even glanced my way or better yet, had a discussion with me. But now, she was talking like we were long time friends.

It vexed me deeply to the core.

"Of course you wouldn't." She chuckled, light. "He reminds me of you, Kian. In a way. That same ruthlessness. Shrewdness. The way he makes his commands known. Like one should forgo everything and come running."

"We are not alike, Jade. Far from it," I ground out between clenched teeth, mad. At this point, I was clueless as to whether she was aware her statements were making me jealous. "And even if we are, I'm the better version."

I expected her to refute my sentence but no words escaped her, her brows knitted in a frown. Rather, her shoulder, clad in a red chiffon blouse, moved up in a careless shrug. Then reaching out for her phone on the table, she began tapping the screen. Our convo had definitely ended.

Witholding a deep sigh of exasperation, I boiled in silence as I studied the late afternoon light dancing across the terrazzo floor, loaded tables and expensive shoes of the people who patronize the place.

She was right though, I mused, taking a sip of chilled water. We were more alike in ways than I could count. To be frank, if Zaverio wasn't a business rival and didn't have his blood mixed with black genes, I might have been friends with him. Keyword, might. He possessed a ruthless streak that even the alpha in me recognised.

"Kian?"

"Yeah?" I retrieved my stare from the bar and cast a look at her. She chewed on her bottom lip, a cute thoughtful picture.

"I agree. You're the better version." Her warm hand snaked past the drinks and across the table to squeeze mine gently. "And when I say the better version, I mean the kinder one. The one who asks for forgiveness and makes sure that he cleans up whatever mistake he might have made while climbing on the way up."

Jade smiled at me, honey eyes the warmest I'd ever seen them. For a second I said nothing. Did nothing. Shock froze my movements.

I couldn't believe my luck. Here was the woman who I'd wronged so many fucking times, touching me. Trying to reassure me.

A huge grin spread my lips wide as I gazed at her beautiful face. Warmth spilled in the cold embers of my heart, uplifting and at the same time, bewildering. While it was confusing, it was a change. A welcome change that I could get used to.

Lacing my fingers in hers, I squeezed back, a cynical part of me unable to believe it. The Jadesola before me had to have an agenda. Her change, from raging lioness to gentle lamb was too swift. Too too abrupt.

Even as I pondered on that, I recalled the reason I had taken a cold shower yesterday night and a voice nagged at my temple. Constant and annoying.

Why are you being nice to me Jadesola? The sweet lies don't cut it, honey.

***

My dick throbbed badly, jutting into the materials of my sweatpants. Even though I'd taken a cold shower earlier.

Again, I contemplated jerking off but the last thing I wanted was to scare Jadesola away with my lusty groans.

Exhaling loud, I tried to tune out that incessant ache and focused my attention back to my iPad's screen. A scribble of languages filled the white background, Igbo and Yourba.

At the moment, Yoruba took priority seeing as that was where my wife's first name originated. I was done with learning the language's alphabets. As a linguist, it was quite easy, and within a week I'd slightly gotten the hang of it, pronunciation wise.

The idea to study her language had stemmed from Jadesola's mom. I could remember her voice clearly at the airport after she'd cornered my ass, advising me on how to win her daughter's heart. Apparently, speaking Yoruba and Igbo was one way to do it.

"Kian ni oruko mi, mo si le so ede Yoruba. Iwọ nkọ?" a robotic voice spoke through the speaker.

I repeated after the virtual tutor, my mind totally off. Sexual frustration thundered at me still, making it extremely hard to concentrate.

Damn this.

Annoyed with myself, I set the iPad aside on the table, hiding it beneath a book. If Jadesola found out I was studying her language, it wouldn't exactly end well. Not after she'd accused me last time of appropriating her culture.

I retrieved my diary, a tiny, heavy thing. Flipping the thick cover open, I flicked past the pages that had dulled yellow with age. My eyes skimmed over the items Mrs. Simisola had promised me her daughter would love.

⚪Money, loads of it. My daughter was born in a wealthy family and expects nothing less. ⚪Food. Sweetly prepared ones. Not all these oyinbo nonsense. If you do this, wallahi, Jadesola would kill to have you. ⚪Speaking our language, if calling her sweet names in Igbo and Yoruba doesn't endear you to her, nothing else will. ⚪Being attentive and caring, you have to be the best or there will be no rest.

Apart from money and language, my list was nowhere on its way to be ticked off.

A heavy sigh left my lips and I hoisted up to unlock my briefcase. I placed the diary inside a compartment and zipped it close. After Jade's confession of going through my notebook, I wasn't taking chances anymore. There were still some secrets that weren't meant to see the light of the day.

Nothing of interest was left to do. Ryan had taken control of the office back in Chicago so workload was basically non-existent for me. I couldn't visit anywhere in France, not without Jadesola. Neither could I sleep, my cock still hard as a fucking rock. The only option available was the TV. It had been a while, besides it would take some of the heat away.

Before I headed to the suite, my first thought was to forgo a shirt but decided against it, choosing a black singlet.

Shutting my study room close, I walked past the tray I'd given Jadesola. On it was the jollof rice plate scraped so clean that not even a grain of rice was left behind. I shook my head in amusement. She'd lied, the glistening plate was proof my cooking skills were top notch.

"Jadesola." I chuckled, setting a mental reminder to notify room service to take it away later.

Shaking my head in amusement, I sat on the sofa and picked up the remote. I flicked through channels, bored until my eyes snagged onto Chicago's local news. The chilling info succeeded in dousing my erection.

A serial killer, A.M, was on the loose. For years, he'd raped little girls, strangled them and inscribed his depraved marks on their body. As I watched the documentary, I wondered if this killer was that psychotic bastard Jared had mentioned.

"Shift your big ass. The queen needs her space." A shadow fell across me.

I glanced up and inhaled sharply. Jadesola. Hair wrapped in a bonnet, she was clad in a short nightwear, the silky material so transparent it left nothing to the imagination. My cock hardened instantly, lust stirring my blood into a hot rush.

Excitement surged within my veins, as I viewed her hard nipples with a devouring gaze. Hopefully, I would be getting fucked tonight.

A/N: PART TWO COMING SOON. Idk why I write long ass chapters nowadays. LE SIGH.

Anyways, I purposely avoided bringing too much of Zaverio in this chapter because I want to describe him through Jadesola's eyes and not Kian. I find it odd doing so 'cos why will a fellow man say, "He was so handsome, his daring looks made me feel breathless and my heart raced as I felt a tear drip down my thighs because of his beauty ashkmdhksdhwbemdsyhhnaytvddsh...." You get what I mean. But I did try to kind of portray him as the mafia man he is through Kian's pov. Hopefully.

The party chapter with Zaverio comes soon after part two has been uploaded and it's in Jade's pov! I LOVE HIM BTW. Zaverio De Santis. HE MAKES ME GIDDY. And his story is this July!!!!!

Title: A Touch of Sin (Book 1 of the Touch of Sinners series)

Love,
Nita.

Translations:

Donna molto bella -Very beautiful woman

Kian ni oruko mi, mo si le so ede Yoruba. Iwọ nkọ? - My name is Kian and I can speak Yoruba. What about you?