Gianni
I’ve reached a new low: the world’s biggest asshole. I’m a total screw-up, a hopeless case. Why did I let it happen? The question haunted me as soon as I woke up before dawn to find Caterina’s head resting on my chest. Her gentle breathing, the sweet scent of her shampoo, and her hair brushing against my nose created a brief moment of pure happiness.
For a fraction of a second, I was as content as I’ve ever been. Holding the world in my arms felt like everything I needed.
What a fool I’ve been.
By the time I step onto the treadmill in the gym, I’m seething at myself. I need a hard run to clear my mind from this mess I’ve created.
I set a five-minute warm-up, starting slow to loosen my muscles before increasing the pace. Maybe I can outrun this guilt.
What seemed complicated yesterday morning has spiraled into a complete mess, all because of my lack of impulse control. I’ve always had a knack for convincing myself to pursue what I want, even when I know it’s a mistake.
Though I can’t bring myself to think of her as a mistake. Not when she soothes my troubled soul and silences the voices in my head. I slept better last night than I have in ages.
That still doesn’t make it right.
Roger strolls in from the locker room, meeting my gaze in the reflection of the mirror across from me. I didn’t even know he was down here. Most likely, he plans on getting in a workout before the long day ahead of us. He inserts his AirPods into his ears before sitting down at the Nautilus station, and I’m grateful he’s not somebody who needs to talk during his workout.
In my mood, he wouldn’t want to hear anything I have to say.
There’s nothing worse than the morning after when the blood filling your dick has returned to your brain, where it belongs. Everything looks different in the cold light of day.
Not that I don’t want her just as much as ever. No, I want her more. I’m greedy for her now, craving her presence even as I punish my body in penance. It isn’t enough to make her come once or twice. I need her screams, her pleas. I need the sound of her moaning my name in helpless abandon.
Fuck. This isn’t helping.
Gritting my teeth, I increase the speed on the belt, then bump up the incline percentage until my calves burn. Sweat rolls off me, soaking into my shirt, but I push through and grit my teeth in grim acceptance of the pain.
Will determination be enough to keep me away from Caterina? If not, the thought of my daughter will have to do. I can shrug off Caterina’s fears all I want, but I won’t lie to myself. My headstrong, fiery daughter will flip her shit if she ever finds out.
Certain things you just don’t do. Like screwing around with your daughter’s best friend, a kid half your age.
If she ever found out and if she lost it, I couldn’t blame her. There is no defense for what I’ve done and what I long to do again.
Your daughter is more important than pussy. I told myself that before, and it was always true. But those were meaningless one-night stands. Sometimes, it was an excuse to make sure things didn’t go further than they should.
The thought of my daughter, my priority, will not work this time because Caterina means more than a one-night stand. I can’t kid myself into thinking of her as mere pussy.
The girl is imprinted on my soul. No matter what happens after this, there will never be a day I don’t want her.
Run. Push. Don’t stop now, you pussy. Right, because now is the time for self-discipline. Not last night, when I should have left her alone instead of being hell-bent on punishing her for hiding from me.
What happens now? Eventually, I’ll pull my usual bullshit once my feelings for her activate every one of my fears. The old betrayals, those scars I told Caterina about. She thinks I’m beyond getting burned? She has no idea what I’ve withstood.
And those scars—the fears and distrust that came from them—are what will break her heart. They’ll make me push her away. Sure, she’ll try to hang on for a while because it’s the sort of person she is. She doesn’t give up.
Then I’ll push harder until she has nothing left to hold on to. Eventually, I’ll win because I always do. And I’ll be just one more piece of shit who used her and threw her away. Even if that isn’t how I’ll mean it, that’s how she’ll see it.
My feet pound against the treadmill, sweat flying, my fists clenched tight in determination. Catching sight of my reflection in the mirror, my lip curls in a snarl.
Run, you stupid fuck. Does it hurt? Good. It’s what you deserve.
Because you’re going to hurt her, and you fucking know it, but it’s not enough to stop you.
Selfish.
Careless.
Weak.
I punch the Stop button not a moment too soon, my legs close to giving out after so much punishment, my body pushed to the limit.
The belt slows, and so do I, until finally, the machine comes to a stop. My chest and shoulders heave, and I step off and bend at the waist, hands on my knees. My lungs are on fire, and my muscles are screaming.
The exertion did nothing to clear my head.
“I’m glad you stopped.” Roger hands me a bottle of water. “I was starting to worry about you up there.” He tosses me a towel, which I snatch out of the air with one hand.
We fall in step on our way to the coffee station outside the locker room, where I set up an espresso pod, hoping to guzzle a latte and focus my out-of-control thoughts. It normally does the trick, though my hopes aren’t high. This isn’t a normal case of distraction or overwhelm.
“I noticed you added another item to today’s itinerary, but didn’t include a description.” So that’s why he’s up my ass. I should’ve known it had to do with work.
“That’s what I was talking about yesterday,” I explain. “The work I needed you to stick around for. A contractor who’s been gathering intel for me is coming to visit today.”
When he winces, I add, “I’m not squeezing you out. I needed somebody who wouldn’t be recognized.”
“By whom?”
I growl softly at the suspicion in his voice. “I’m not talking about it right now. If it makes you feel any better, I want you around for the meeting.”
All he does is grunt, telling me he understands my reasoning but doesn’t have to like it.
I don’t pay him to like it. He gets paid to do a job.
I can’t bring myself to care about his bruised ego when my obsession with Caterina weighs on my mind. Commanding my attention, my every thought. Knowing she’s here, so close, and that all it would take is a visit to my room to wake her with my kiss and touch. I could indulge myself again in everything that makes her irresistible, and she would thank me for it.
Fuck. I need to give her up. I need to stop this before it goes too far.
Like it hasn’t already.
But then I’ll have no choice but to stand back while one loser after another, who thinks he’s good enough for her, shoots his shot.
I’ll have to suffer through knowing another man is touching her. Spreading her legs, claiming what’s already mine. Believing he’s worthy of her. Wiping out the memory of me.
One hand tightens around the edge of the counter, my coffee cup in the other. Everything around me goes hazy, my chest tightening while the rapid thumping of my heart fills my ears, fills the world, blocking out everything else.
No. I can’t let that happen. Never. I’ll kill the fucker. I’ll kill every single one of them. Nothing comes between me and what’s mine, and Caterina most definitely qualifies. There is no fucking way I’ll let her belong to anybody else.
“Boss!”