Bitter Pills - CoraLee June Page 0,1

like Nix is watching me. It’s so weird,” I replied when I pulled away, licking my lips and tasting sweet iced tea. I couldn’t remember the last time he had whiskey. “It’s like everywhere I go, I can still feel him. Am I crazy?” I knew in my gut that Nix had a reason for disappearing, and I respected him for it. Even though it was painful, I had to trust that he was doing what was best. I, more than anyone, could understand that.

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Gavriel replied huskily. “Wanna give him a show? You know he’s a kinky fucker.”

I tossed my head back and laughed before giving his offer some thought. “Callum just texted me to say he’ll be working late. Caught a lead on a missing person case. Blaise should be home soon, though. We could make it a party.” I winked.

“We do have a lot to celebrate,” Gavriel replied before palming my breasts, kneading me as he leaned in to lick my neck.

Gavriel was talking about me finishing my third year at Penn State. It made me warm and fuzzy to know how supportive and proud of me they all were. I only attended a few classes a semester, but I was proud of my slow progress. “Let’s not get too excited. I could still flunk out,” I replied with a self-deprecating chuckle.

“Sunshine Moretti, you are the smartest, most resilient woman I know. You couldn’t fail even if you tried. Besides, you already passed college algebra. I think you can survive anything now.”

I trailed my fingers up his black tie before crushing the fabric in my fist, yanking him closer. “I love it when you say my full name, Mr. Moretti. Say it again.”

“Sunshine Moretti,” he growled while digging his fingers into my waist, pushing up my black tank top in the process. “I’m going to bend you over this kitchen table and make you come while Blaise watches.”

“Oh really?” I asked before standing up, pulling him with me.

“Really. Take your fucking clothes off and show me what’s mine.”

Chapter One

Grace

I bought an air mattress for fifty-seven dollars at a local superstore. It was a frivolous purchase, but being a Moretti made me accustomed to wasting money on silly things. My own brother practically stole a factory in Germany last year simply because the original owner gave his wife a lingering, suggestive look. My brother knew nothing about making parts for airplanes, but he wrote it off as a good investment. Maybe my air mattress wasn’t as senseless, but that didn’t mean the purpose behind my purchase wasn’t. Despite the five-thousand-dollar luxury mattress in my bedroom, I would be spending the night on this glorified pool floatie.

I made a big production of inflating it on the balcony of my fifteenth-floor apartment. Early fall in Manhattan felt cool and brisk in the evening. I listened to cars honk on the street below and shooed away fearless pigeons that were curiously watching me wrestle with the air pump. After dragging out some pillows and blankets and pouring myself a glass of wine, I waited.

And waited.

I wouldn’t say I was obsessed with the person living across from my building, though I couldn’t find an appropriate word to describe my strange need to watch him. Curious, maybe?

I couldn’t stop staring at the man tragically tethered to me—the man in love with Nix.

Alessandro Gray.

When Alessandro moved in, I knew he had ulterior motives. He was burdened with the insufferable task of keeping me under his thumb. I couldn’t go anywhere without him silently following me. Oh, he gave me the illusion of privacy, but I knew he was always there. Watching. Listening. Protecting. I ignored it for the better part of five years.

Until three months ago.

One late night on my balcony helped me come to the conclusion that every other Tuesday night, Alessandro brought over a different man to fuck in his living room with the blinds open. And I didn’t mean simple, faceless romps over in thirty minutes. This was hours of angry fucking, sucking, and everything else. I figured if he could follow me around New York, I could watch him have sex with randoms. At least this way, the intrusion on privacy was mutual.

The first time I saw him with another man, I was smoking a joint and thinking about birds born from flames. I casually stared at the building across from mine while wrapped in a cloud of smoke and blanketed with a high so palpable it