Monza (Formula Men #1)(12)



This was what I needed to regain my composure. It was a necessary process to make me feel alive, because what had happened tonight had truly f*uked me inside out. All of my escalating emotions had taken a nosedive the moment her secret had been revealed, leaving me in despair.

Could I move past this? I had never been rejected in such a fashion that my pride and ego couldn’t easily recover from. It felt invasive, personal, and for the very first time in my life, the thought of tomorrow brought nothing except anguish.

In my normal state of mind, I would usually choose Stasia or Cara to f*uk in order to finish off the sexual festivities. Tonight, however, I had a hard time wanting to f*uk anyone. I was rock solid hard, but for some inane reason, the blasted tool didn’t want to be in any woman’s pu**y. Well, all but one, one who was spoken for, the forbidden woman my heart belonged to.

My heart…

The trail of my thoughts left me staggering. Wait—I loved her? Did I? It was the only explanation, or I wouldn’t be so distraught about the whole fiasco that was my non-existent love life.

Well, hell. The realization brought me to my knees. I had fallen in love, and I hadn’t even known I was until it was too late. How maddeningly sad was that? How did I live with myself, knowing she was the one I wanted? Or, worse yet, how could I fathom the thought of her starting a little family of her own?

Swallowing the tightened lump in my throat, I suddenly felt the back of my eyeballs starting to burn.

Oh. f*uk. No.

I wasn’t about to let this gloomy story make me cry, too, most especially while I was getting head from two sexy women. Not in this bloody lifetime, I wouldn’t.

I wouldn’t live it down; no one would.

Groaning in protest, I used all of my concentration to hone in on the luxurious feel of slick tongues swirling and twirling around my shaft.

“Suck it harder, Cara. I want to come in your mouth.”

My emotion and mental state were battling against each other. One unyielding to the other as each wanted to take charge of my body, confusing me all the more. Even Cara’s relentless service to my cock did little to alleviate the demons that hounded my mind.

“Luca,” Stasia said, sauntering towards us. “Let me take care of you. You’ll feel better, I promise.”

No. Nothing would make me better. I was dragged into this without my consent, without giving me a chance to protest. Now I was left to figure this out all by myself. How could one find a way to crawl out of this wretched hole?

“Mi dispiace, but I have to go.” Barely glancing at the women, I got up and started to put my clothes on, needing to be free, to be away from anyone so I could lick my wounds.

Love.

That was what people celebrated, dedicating a day for the said word, yet I had never felt such a toxic emotion poisoning my soul. It muddled everything, leaving me defenseless. That was what I was—vulnerable, powerless to fight the eviscerating ache that had seeped into my heart.

I left the private club as if the hounds of Hell were after me. Deep down, I knew I wasn’t supposed to drive hastily around public roads since it would reflect badly on me and my profession. Regardless, I was an Italian man, and we thrived on fast cars, driving them as if red lights were simply a decoration on the street.

The events of this night combined with the pounding headache that felt as if it was splitting my brain in two was just too much to bear. I wanted this dead, abominable cold that had taken over me to be gone. I had no other emotion left except hate, loathing for everything that was in my way.

Arriving back at home, I was immediately greeted by the nurse carrying a small tray that consisted of my medication and water.

“Get that out of my sight! I can’t do this right now!” I barked at her. When I saw her terrified, stricken face, I felt like a total heel. “Apologies. I didn’t mean to scream at you. I’ve had a terrible night, excuse me.”

She merely gave me an understanding nod before retreating back to wherever she had come from, quite possibly to the kitchen then into the guest bedroom.

I hadn’t meant to snap, but this demon inside me felt like it was gnawing its way out, eating the very essence of my humanity, transforming me into a man I didn’t want to be. Loathing my deplorable attitude, I hid inside my library, seeking some alcoholic concoction to temporarily remedy the darkness that was overtaking me.

With the bottle in my hand, I swiftly strode over the sofa that faced the fireplace before hurling the damning thing into the fire, sparking a momentarily larger blaze. Transfixed by the beauty that set my eyes aglow, I suddenly felt weak, as if all life had been sucked out of me.

“Why didn’t I just die?” I murmured into the air as it dawned on me that Jacques could be right. Maybe I was too far gone to care much about life. Fear kept people on their toes, so what happened to a man who had none?

Overwhelmed by the rioting emotions running through my veins, I was heaving severely when my vision started to blur around me, spinning my sight before I saw black. The last thing I recalled was the sound of the hard thump of my body on the Persian rug.

I wasn’t sure how long I was out, but I remembered waking to the most irritating sound of my mother’s shrilling voice echoing throughout the halls of the villa, demanding to know why I wasn’t in my bedroom and if anyone had seen where I was.

“Merda,” I muttered under my breath as I began to shift my aching body off the carpet, groaning as I did so.

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