Gemma

Vincent Nazario - the New York Capo and my soon-to-be ex-husband - knew two things. How to kill a bird with one stone and how to use the same stone as proof to make someone else look like the culprit.

In my initial days of knowing Vinny - whenever he would visit the Moralez - he was a gentleman. Though his persona changed when he took charge of the New York Syndicate, his truest form remained the same for everyone he loved.

That included his sister and me.

As much as I detested using Vinny to run away from home and to punish my brother after he left me to hunt my assaulters, I owed a great deal to him.

It was Vincent who taught me to become tough. It was he, who trained me in martial arts and shooting.

Suffice to say, the woman that I am today was all because Vincent took me under his wings. He ensured I was well taken care of in his mansion. Nobody, and I meant nobody, dared question me because the King had his hand over me.

I adored him. And I believed that adoration was love.

Hell, what twenty-one-year-old girl wouldn't think it to be love when the man - a handsome, well-built and six and a half-feet-tall Adonis - confessed his love.

When Vincent said he loved me, I believed I loved him too. We got married in haste. Coming to think of it, we did everything in haste. Over the course of four years, I realised the truth about love.

I only loved one man. And I needed to escape from seeing him.

I believed he wouldn't love me after the broken piece of furniture that I had become. My grandmother spat those words every single day. And as they said about words of discouragement, her words started resonating with me.

I believed I couldn't be loved. I believed the assaulters broke me. I was now a broken vessel that nobody would want.

And then came Vincent. He didn't see me as a survivor. He didn't pity my state of being.

He took care of me and saw my flaws as a mere covering beneath which my truest form resisted. He polished me to become the woman I was today.

And for that, I'd always be thankful to him.

The car came to a screeching halt outside Vincent's mansion.

Agustin, who was following me in a separate car, was still to arrive.

I looked out the car window and saw him. Vincent Nazario - the man, the myth and the monster - stood at the first step of the entrance, waiting for me.

He descended down the stairs, slowly opening the car seat. Stooping low, he lent his palm, smiling.

"I hope you had a wonderful journey." The low rumbled voice of his took me back to the first time we spoke. The first time, a man's voice feathered over my ears as if it was honey poured over them.

"I did." I held his hand and slid out. "Thank you for hosting us on such short notice."

"Anything for you, love." He dipped his lips over my knuckles, hooded eyes watching me intently. "I've arranged your room. You can rest there for now."

"Vincent," I held his arm before he moved. "I've not come to rest. Please..."

Maybe it was the desperation in my voice or the way I gripped his hand, he nodded. Signalling his guard to fetch my luggage, he walked me towards the library.

The place was grand. A huge chandelier hung from above, illuminating the halls. The staircase in the centre of the patio, leading up to other rooms, still had the black carpet - Vincent's favourite color.

We walked across the hall on the chessboard like marble. The sound of my heels broke the silence of the place.

As soon as Vincent pushed open the huge, double doors of his library and gestured me inside, I felt nervous.

We haven't spoken in a long time. My decision to leave him was yet to be communicated. Yet, there I was, acting like I was still his wife. Still the love of his life, and he, of mine.

Thud.

The doors shut behind me.

Vincent walked towards the bar and prepared a drink. "Burbon, I presume."

"Yes, please," I nodded.

He placed the drinks on the round table between us, leaning back on his chair. His crooked smile dictated my actions.

I gulped down the drink, feeling the heat run down my throat. My stomach warmed up. So did my chest.

"Thirsty," he chuckled. Grabbing the bottle on the table, we poured another drink into my empty glass.

"Where's Agustin?" I asked.

Vincent's action halted for a second before that hundred-watt smile reignited his face. "He'll arrive. You can relax, Emm. I take great care of my guests."

"I know. But I'm not here to be a guest, Vincent. I'm here to ask for a favour."

Maybe it was my words or the way I gulped another drink in no time, Vincent left his seat and walked across to mine. He knelt before me, eying the empty glass that I had held in a tight grip.

"You're tense. You always nurse your drink, Emm."

"As I said, I'm not here for a vacation. I'm here to ask for a favour."

"Favour..." His thick eyebrows bridged, crinkling his forehead. "Go on. Ask."

"Sofia Salazar." I waited for the alcohol to numb my pain. The pain I had felt since Italy upon realising Sofia and Aurelia were kidnapped.

Nothing happened. Maybe the way we treat alcohol for everything, from pain to pleasure, its effect may wear off.

I sure have treated alcohol as my companion since the time I could legally drink. Maybe, my body had gotten used to it. Maybe, I needed something stronger.

Something to numb my sensations.

"Santos Salazar's sister. Al's wife," Vincent said. "I've heard."

"You know about her?" My voice tipped.

"I know about what happened to her."

He leaned closer and our faces aligned.

"So you know where she is?"

"Emma, I said I know about her. I know that she's missing. I didn't say about..."

"Why are you wasting my time with your wordplay?"

"I'm wasting your time?" He chuckled. "Am I the one who asked for a favour?"

This was not going according to plan. Hell, this wasn't even remotely close to what I thought to be our conversation.

I stood up from the chair and walked closer to Vincent. Like always, he addressed me with a smile.

"I'm sorry. It came out all wrong. But I need your help to get Sofia and her daughter's whereabouts."

Vincent didn't speak. Instead, he looked over my shoulder, at the laptop that was on his desk.

Presuming he needed time to ponder on the decision to help me or not, I decided to give him time.

Every cell in my body was hurting me. I was exhausted from a back-to-back flight and needed rest.

Before I could walk towards the door and open them, Vincent called my name.

"I'll help you," he said.

I turned to see him hovering over his laptop. The pale blue screen illuminated his dusky completion. His hazel-coloured eyes brightened as he typed something on the screen.

"I can't thank you enough." The exhaustion from the travel merged with the news of Sofia had me weep.

I coiled my arms around him, pushing my body over him. Instantly, his grip over me tightened.

There was a familiarity in his touch. I wasn't embracing a man whom I believed to have fallen out of love with. I was holding onto a person who had become a part of my support system. I was clinging to his body as if my life depended on it.

"Vincent." Reluctantly I slid my arms off but his grip remained strong.

"Emm..." His throat bobbed. His eyes darkened. "Why are you really here?"

I couldn't state the truth. Not when he was ready to help me.

Not when Sofia's life was hanging in the balance.

"I missed you..."

The moment I said those words, his lips came crashing on me.

After being separated for more than a year, I was tasting him. The bitter tang of whiskey, the sweet scent of ebony and the softness of his lips engulfed me. I wasn't thinking straight.

I didn't want to.

"Take off your blazer," I commanded.

He tossed it away, removing his cufflinks and loosening his tie.

He placed me on his table, his right hand roaming inside my shirt and unbuttoning my jeans. His lips caressed my collarbone and his teeth grazed over my earlobe.

"I missed you, my love." It was his whispery prayer to me. It was his devotional pled.

I could save us. I could very well break this journey and save us both a heartbreak.

But my body sang a different tune.

It wanted him. It needed to feel him.

Vincent Nazario was my drug. And I craved for him like an addict. I wanted to devour him like he was the last breath of oxygen I'd get to inhale before I die.

"Take off your pant," I said, tugging at it.

Vincent grabbed my wrist, pulling me over him. He walked us to the leather sofa in a corner, next to the fireplace.

"I've missed your body," he whispered into my ears, biting my earlobe.

In one swift motion, he unbuckled his belt and pulled open his zipper. Another hand roamed inside my panty. His thumb ran circles over my aching bud, and he watched me as I ripped apart my shirt buttons.

My jeans pulled off and shoved into a corner, following my shirt's trajectory. My fingers dug into his shirt, ripping them off his toned body.

"I want you..." he panted, dipping his face between my legs. He drank me, his tongue ran over my wetness while I moaned into my hand. "Mia Cara..."

My vision blackened. My fingers ran over his nearly gelled hair, pulling him up.

His wet lips met mine. And at that moment, I had to bite my lips from saying his name. And what I had always felt for him.

In the most vulnerable state of a human, they confess. Vincent did.

"Emm, I love you..."

With that, he thrust into me. I held his broad shoulders while being rocked back and forth.

"Emm..." He panted, kissing my perky mounts. Then, like always, he picked me up.

"You want me to ride you?" I didn't need confirmation. I wanted to feel empowered and my question was my way of doing it.

He nodded, laying on the hardwood floor.

I aligned over his erect member. In one dip, he slid inside me.

"Vinny..."

I cried out his name. My eyes watered. My breath staggered.

I was riding him, biting the crook of his neck.

"Fuck..." He grabbed my hair, bunching it in his fist. "Harder, my queen."

Something about the way he wanted me, the way he needed me, made me thrust him faster.

In one quick turn, Vincent rolled me under him. His hand grabbed my wrists above my head.

His hazel eyes scanned over my naked body as he thrust in me.

Once, twice, thrice... Harder, faster, stronger.

"Only when I say it." He commanded. His thumb ran circles over my clit. His tongue ran over my jaw. "Not before that."

Every thrust was pushing me to release. I held onto his bare back, my nails digging into his skin.

Vincent picked me up from the flood and thrust me over his bookcase.

The structure rattled. I grabbed his neck as he sucked my nipple.

"Now..." I begged.

"Not now, love." He thrust harder.

His eyes never left me. So did his smirk.

I bit into my lower lips, begging.

He thrust harder. Faster.

The glass on the bookcase rattled.

"Vinnceeentttt..." I kneed my boobs. He pulled me off the case and put me on the table.

"Now." As soon as he ordered, my body obeyed its command.

I released with him. He did inside me.

We embraced each other, panting.

"I've missed you, Mia Cara..."

"I've..." I didn't know what to say. Panting, I kissed him harder. Maybe, just maybe, if I kissed him now, I may realise if my decision to leave him was wrong or not.

I couldn't tell.

Vincent was always a gentleman. He picked me up from the table, ran his fingers through my hair and tied them in the back.

He was the one who made me get dressed before wore his attire.

I sat still, on his desk. Not knowing what to say or do, yet feeling a pang in my chest every time he looked at me.

Was I doing it wrong? Was I leaving Vincent because I stopped loving him?

Or was it my crisis that I was inflicting on him?

"Emm..." Pulling me down from the desk, he walked me towards the door. "I'll come to get you when I find something. But for now, I want you to rest. You've had a long journey."

"I can wait."

He smiled, kissing my knuckles. "I know you think you've to be strong but you don't always have to fight all battles. Let others help you, my love."

I couldn't protest. The exhaustion from the journey and what ensured between us had me agree to his proposal.

As soon as Vincent opened the door, my vision fell on Agustin. He sat across the hall, eying the now open door.

"My brother, Gus..." Vincent walked over to Agustin and embraced him.

Maybe it was my overthinking. Or partly the exhaustion but I felt as if Agustin could see through me. Of what must have happened inside the library.

Guilt coursed its way through my skin. It pierced my heart as Agustin walked by.

"Emm, your room is set," Vincent spoke over his shoulder and walked inside the library.

I turned to Agustin who didn't move. His gaze was set on me.

"Hope you had a good ride," I said waving at him in an awkward manner. Why was I feeling guilty?

"Yes, I did. Vincent does know how to give people the best of times."

While Agustin walked away and closed the doors behind him, I stood still going over his words.

What did he mean? Did he know what happened between me and Vinny?

Was he bothered by it?

~
Darlings
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