Sensual Redamancy

Chapter 11

•DOMINIC•

I took a sip of my black coffee, keenly watching Sofia run on the beach from my office window wall.

In the few days we'd spent on the island, I'd figured going on the beach to read and soak in the sun was her morning ritual and every morning, she seemed happier and much more carefree.

This morning, she wore a baggy white shirt dress with her hair tumbling down her shoulders. The wind tousled her hair and ruffled her shirt the more she moved seemingly on a video call with someone as she held her phone up to her face.

I could watch her all day and never get bored. Lately, I'd figured I didn't just want to watch her. I wanted to join her, spent time with her and enjoy her warm presence.

The only problem? She instantly made my cock jump by simply breathing the same air as me and I suddenly didn't trust my self-control around her.

I was trying to stay a distance away from her, but I knew it was only a matter of time before my need for her would turn into extreme desperation.

Loud vibration in my pocket drew my attention away from Sofia as I dug my hand into my pocket, fishing out my phone and checking the caller ID.

I sighed heavily, plopping back into my chair facing the beach.

Greta hadn't stopped calling every five minutes and leaving me a bunch of angry texts. At this point, she was much more fierce than Teodoro whose calls I'd been dodging for days until he gave up a day ago.

I decided to pick up although I knew I'd regret it, pressing the phone lazily to my ear.

"Fuck you for taking this long to take my calls, you troll!" Greta cursed bitterly, a door slamming in the background. "I need lots of cash like right now."

I took another sip of my coffee, slowly swinging my chair from side to side, my right leg crossed over my left knee. "Don't you have parents for that, you nasty spoilt brat?" I rumbled, irritation lacing my voice.

"At this point, I fucking don't because Father is busy sticking his tongue down Cayetana Martel's throat and two goody shoes Olivia is obviously acting like it's another fucking normal day in the Bernardi household and that filthy old hag's disgusting immorality doesn't break her ridiculously soft heart!" she practically yelled, frustration straining her voice.

"Sticking his tongue down whose throat?" I asked in an alarmed and surprised tone. There was no way he'd actually do that.

"Your fucking mother-in-law and I hate to break it to you, but lately he's been rumbling so much about your wife it's getting disgusting and irritating. I'm gonna lose my head the day you come back to New York and he takes in another mistress who's less than half his age."

I felt a sharp twist in my chest, tension denoting my veins. My own father's habits were twisted so much he felt irredeemable.

I'd feared his guts and heartlessness. He didn't care about his wife or his children if he could act so openly traumatising. What would he do to someone like Sofia he merely felt lustful attraction towards and wanted to use to feed his enormous sexual appetite?

My thoughts were disrupted by a heavy thud over the phone followed by muffled screaming probably into a pillow before soft sniffles followed.

"Dom, please," Greta begged desperately, suffocation evident in her voice. "I'm losing my mind in this house and I can't take it anymore," she confided in a soft tenor.

Tough and feisty as she acted, I knew deep down she was mentally struggling due to her strained relationships with literally everyone around her, especially our father.