To Have & to Hurt by Morgan Bridges
Tristano
For the millionth time since I met Violetta, I want to shoot Benito.
She said he and I were the only men she trusted and held in high esteem, but that’s not good enough for me. I want to be the only man she looks at with respect and admiration. I want to be the only one she runs to when she’s frightened, enabling me to comfort her emotionally with words and physically with my hands and body. The very idea of Violetta seeking out someone else for such things drives me to insanity.
But the idea of her searching for someone else to fulfill her desires? To touch her? To fuck her?
I nearly lost my fucking mind.
Knowing jealousy was the root cause of my thoughts only served to anger me all the more. But she doesn’t deserve that from me, and not today of all days.
Violetta brought me out of the tempest whirling in my head and back to reality by placing her hands on my face. The softness of her skin on mine, the feel of her breasts against me, and the scent of her—a natural fragrance that’s unique only to her—all around me… They were enough to pull me out of the rage I was drowning in.
Only to throw me into another pool that’s much deeper and where the waves are more tumultuous: a sea of arousal, lust, and desire. Wanting Violetta and not being able to have her just might kill me.
Her beautiful smile is still in place and I have to subdue the urge to kiss her.
Another thing I’ve wanted to do for the millionth time.
As we walk to the table I watch Violetta in my peripheral and take in her expressions. They vary from extreme delight to captivated wonder. I’m not able to decide which I enjoy the most and continue to let the beauty of her engulf me. I soak in every flicker of her turquoise gaze, every second of her radiant smile, and every hitch of her breath.
Maybe I’m a selfish bastard for putting this celebration together, since I knew I’d enjoy this time with her. Or perhaps I truly am a masochist. Only someone like that would torture themselves by being with a woman close enough to have, but without the right or leeway to do so.
How can I truly enjoy this time while suffering intensely?
Because Violetta is worth everything and anything.
I assist her into the seat and then take my own across from her. Threading my fingers and resting them on the table’s surface, I ask, “What would you like to eat this evening?”
Her lips pull to the side, drawing up a vision of me claiming them, tasting them fully, and I blink to distort the fantasy.
“I don’t see a menu…” She slides her gaze over the linen tablecloth and then brings it back to mine. “How do I know what to order?”
The bemused expression on her lovely face has my mouth tilting up. “You can order whatever you want.”
“Anything?”
When I nod her lips form a pout and I covertly move my hand under the table and adjust my stiffened cock. Then she bites her bottom lip in an innocent guise of deep thinking and I nearly groan.
“But I don’t know what I like,” she says, her voice taking on a note of sorrow.
“I know.” When she arches a brow I continue. “You said you didn’t know who you were without your sister, so tonight is the beginning of your journey to self-discovery. You have the opportunity to try anything you wish and, by doing so, you’ll be able to discern your likes and dislikes. And that’ll be the start of you defining who Violetta is and what her preferences are. It may be simple, but I hope it will be effective.”
Her rose-colored lips tremble and her jeweled eyes are glassy from the tears that are gathering. I silently curse myself at her disappointment. If I spent more time learning about women instead of just fucking them, then maybe I would’ve made a better choice for her birthday. Rafael may try to fuck his way through America, but he knows women, beyond what happens in bed.
I’ll never admit to him that his strategy is better.
Wasbetter, if Carina has anything to say about his sexual exploits.
I blow out a harsh breath and right when I’m about to offer Violetta an apology, she speaks.
“You’re giving me a choice. Is that right?”
I slowly nod, unsure of this line of inquiry.
“Tristano…” My name falls from her lips like a raindrop falls from a rose petal, cleansing something in me that I thought beyond salvageable. “My entire life, all I ever wanted was the freedom to choose,” she whispers, dropping her gaze. She closes her eyes and squeezes them tightly. I can’t discern if she’s trying to stem her tears or if she’s in emotional pain…
I’m three seconds away from getting out of my chair and snatching her into my arms.
Violetta opens her eyes and a solitary tear ends up spilling to course down her cheek. She smiles at me and says, “Thank you. The gift of choice is the most precious to me. I don’t know how I’ll repay you, but when I’m able to I will, so you’ll know how grateful I really am.”
The heartfelt confession and appreciation are the last things I expected from her. Not because I thought she’d scorn my efforts or anything along those lines. It’s the fact that she’s aware of my wealth, power, and influence, and has asked for nothing they could give her. This mafia princess, the daughter of one of the most powerful men in the U.S., doesn’t want expensive things in the form of money, jewelry, or prestige.
To say I’m astounded is an understatement.
She is the first woman I’ve met who didn’t want any-and-everything I could buy or do for her. All Violetta wants is something that’s free, yet still within my ability to give.
I wave a hand in dismissal, my thoughts far from the nonchalance the gesture implies. “You don’t need to repay me for any reason because I wanted to do this for you. If you’d like to do something in return, you can tell me why you don’t celebrate your birthday.”
Her face falls and I could punch myself in the dick for it. Yet I sense there’s an important reason Violetta is avoiding the issue. Again, maybe I’m selfish for asking, but I want to know everything about her.
“My parents didn’t believe our birthdays were worth celebrating,” she says, her voice strained. “Carina and I used to do what we could for each other by sneaking a dessert from the kitchen and crafting various presents with our school supplies, but that was all. Then, as we grew older, we recognized that each passing year would bring us closer to a life neither of us wanted. At eighteen we would be given away in marriage to whoever suited my father’s agenda at the time. For him that would result in more power, but for us that would mean being someone’s wife, which translates to being little more than their slave and a complete loss of power.”
I know what the gala’s purpose has always been, but I’ve never thought of it from a woman’s perspective and what it would mean for them. I don’t approve of the annual bridal auction, yet I never did anything about it either. Hearing Violetta speak of it and experiencing her loathing and fear is enlightening.
“But Carina saved me from that,” she says. I bring my full attention to her once again and the tightness in my chest, due to her despondency, eases at the look of adoration on her face. “And you saved me in a way as well.”
Skepticism pulls my brows together. “How?”
Violetta’s smile widens, making her all the more beautiful to me. “Tristano, you’ve kept me safe and given me this.” She lifts her arms and gestures to the space around her. “Now I’ll have a wonderful memory to replace all the horrible ones from the past.”
Her penchant to search for the good in things humbles me. Despite the events in her life thus far, she’s still able to focus on positive outcomes, as well as appreciate them. Her soul is resplendent, pure in a way that draws me to her more fiercely than darkness ever could pull me away.
“Ribelle, your outlook on life is far beyond someone of your age.”
And it’s true. Violetta has the body of a siren, the playfulness of a nymph, as well as the mind of a sensible adult. That’s why I’m constantly vacillating between viewing her as a young woman, as opposed to just a woman. The fact that she doesn’t know her likes and dislikes isn’t off-putting to me.
It means I have the honor of introducing them to her.
My cock throbs at the idea of introducing sexual likes and dislikes to her…
She graces me with her smile, one that’s brighter than all the others I’ve seen, even if it’s only been a handful. This just means they’re rare and coveted by me.
And I want more of them.
Especially after basking in the one she’s giving me right now.
“So, what’ll it be?” I ask, steering the conversation and my thoughts away from her delectable body. Which is difficult with her sitting across from me looking the way she does. “I think I’ll have steak with garlic mashed potatoes and the vegetables in season.”
She grins at me and I tilt my head in question. “You call yourself an Italian,”she says, a hint of teasing in her voice, “yet there’s no mention of pasta? Such a disgrace to our people.”
Then Violetta winks at me.
I’m five seconds from slamming her onto this table and fucking her.
That little antic was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen and I doubt she was even trying.
“I’ve been properly chastised,” I say with a feigned expression of remorse. “How could I make such a grievous error?” I wink at her and a rosy tint appears across her cheeks, rendering her all the more charming.
Violetta’s lips twitch with suppressed laughter. “I’ll allow it, but only this once.” She clears her throat and purses her lips, idly taping the table, and then huffs out a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m really not sure what to get. I’ve always wanted the ability to choose and now that I have it, I’m almost overwhelmed.”
“Would you be open to sampling some of my favorite dishes?”
“Yes!”
She brightens instantly and my chest expands with pride. “Let’s do that,” I say and then signal for Juan. He rushes over and I give him our order, along with our beverages. Just as fast as he hurried to my side, that’s the speed in which he leaves. I’ll be sure to reward him financially for making himself scarce.
This night is about Violetta, but I want to have her all to myself.
He returns with a silver wine cooler filled with ice, a bottle of wine, and champagne. He takes the bottle and then withdraws a large champagne sword, which has Violetta’s gaze darting to me. Her seeking me out over a perceived danger stirs something inside me that I can’t put a name to.
Yet, it moves me in a way I’ve never experienced.
“Juan’s going to use it to open the bottle,” I say to calm her anxiety.
She nods slowly, still eyeing him. He swings the blade and it makes contact with the bottleneck to dislodge the cork, sending it flying. The popping sound has Violetta’s lips forming a perfect O and she gasps at the end result. Then she claps, her delight making her complexion glow with happiness.
I’m baffled that such a simple thing could bring about so much joy.
However, her joy is intoxicating. It’s everything I’ve been missing in my life and now that I’m experiencing it through her, because of her, I’m not sure I can continue living without it.
“Bravo, Juan!” Violetta’s praise has the older man’s ears turning red. “That was wonderfully executed.”
His gaze makes contact with mine before he thanks her, almost as though Juan needed to be certain it was permissible. Because he views Violetta as mine.
So do I.