Elara's POV.
"Uhh..uhhh…" A loud cry escaped my mouth as I gripped onto the sheets for an anchor.
I'd never felt more vulnerable, and raw before. My emotions were all over the place, each stroke
a mixture of pain and pleasure.
The feeling was thrilling.
I hadn't told Dante that I was a virgin, I didn't think that was necessary information. Also, I didn't
want him to hold back, his body view had already caused a tingly sensation in-between my legs
and I just wanted to feel all of inside me.
"mmmhhmm…" My back arched into him, I almost thought I'd snap.
He held my hands above my head and placed my legs over his shoulders. This was the most
alive I'd felt in years. It felt like a breath of fresh air.
He plunged forward again and a sharp gasp escaped my throat making me roll my eyes to the
back and curling my toes.
The night unfolded with my hair looking like a bed's nest and legs shaky. Dante had helped me
into the shower to clean up and placed me back into bed to rest.
That little display of care made me think for a split second, maybe, just maybe, I might enjoy
living here.
Unfortunately, I spoke too soon. I woke up the next morning, hoping Dante might give me a hug
or something after such an intimate night.
Maybe a little hello would have sufficed, but when I walked into the living room, he acted like
he'd never even seen me before and simply walked out of the house.
Some people are just inbuilt assholes.
I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, we'd just met yesterday. He's probably not used to
having people like me around.
Last night, he had been a force of nature: brutal, possessive, yet strangely attentive when he
carried my shaking body into the shower. This morning, I was a piece of furniture he was tired of
looking at.
I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling the ache in my thighs and the lingering sensitivity in
my skin. I needed coffee and maybe a textbook to keep my mind busy.
I was halfway to the kitchen when the massive front doors swung open again. I froze, thinking
Dante had forgotten something, perhaps his conscience, but a different man stepped inside
instead.
He was tall, lean, and dressed in a cashmere sweater and grey slacks.
Unlike Dante, whose hair was always slicked back, this man's dark curls were slightly messy,
falling over his forehead.
He stopped when he saw me, his eyebrows arching in surprise.
"Well," he paused. "The rumors didn't do you justice. You must be the new Mrs. Moretti."
I straightened my posture, trying to hide the fact that I was wearing an oversized t-shirt and no
shoes.
"And you are?"
He stepped forward, extending a hand.
"Lorenzo. Dante's younger, much more likable brother.Though, considering who we're comparing me to, that's a low bar to clear."
I took his hand. His grip was firm but gentle, his skin warm."Elara."
"I know," he said, flashing his perfect white teeth.
"The genius med student. My brother usually
buys tech companies or shipping lines; I was surprised to hear he'd acquired a
surgeon-in-training. It's a bit outside his usual portfolio."
I pulled my hand back, feeling a flush creep up my neck.
"It's a contract, Lorenzo. Not an acquisition"
"With Dante, there's no difference," he replied. He walked toward the marble island in the
kitchen, gesturing for me to follow.
"Have you had breakfast? The staff makes a decent
espresso, but I usually have to make my own if I want it done right. Dante likes his coffee like his
heart, black and bitter."
I found myself leaning against the counter, watching him move. He had this boyish energy that
Dante had clearly lost decades ago. He looked like an artist, or a professor, or someone who
actually enjoyed the sun.
"I haven't eaten yet," I admitted.
"Sit," he commanded gently, pointing to a stool. "I'll make us something. And don't worry, I don't bite."
As he moved around the kitchen, he actually talked to me. He asked about my studies, what I
specialized in, and if I'd read the latest publication on neuroplasticity.
"Dante doesn't deserve you, you know," Lorenzo said suddenly, handing me a plate of avocado
toast and a steaming cup of coffee.
"He's a machine. He sees the world in spreadsheets and bloodlines. He's forgotten how to be a person."
"He's my husband," I said, though the word felt wrong.
Lorenzo leaned against the opposite counter, his gaze lingering on my face. Up close, he was
devastatingly handsome. He had the same strong Moretti jawline as Dante, but his features
were more softened.
"He's a signature on a paper, Elara. Don't let him freeze you out. This house is a tomb if you
don't find someone to talk to." He winked at me, a playful, charming gesture that made my heart
skip a beat out of a sudden, sharp attraction.
I took a sip of the coffee. It was perfect. I looked at Lorenzo, then back toward the door where
Dante had vanished. One brother was a cold, distant mountain of ice. The other was a warm,
vibrant light.
I felt a dangerous thought cross my mind as I watched Lorenzo smile at me again.
At least if one wouldn't shower me with love and affection, I'd have the other.