Bitter Pills

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 consumed my consciousness and made me think about running away.
I wasn’t expecting to see Alessandro with his hand wrapped around another man’s throat with his cock jerking in and out of his partner’s ass. It was a brutal, passionless sort of fuck. Just something to get off to on a Tuesday night.
The next time I saw him, I brought popcorn to enjoy the show. The time after that, I grabbed blankets. Tonight, I was doing a full-blown campout. I’m sure he could see me in the glow of the city lights, which was perhaps why I made such a production of peeping through his windows. It wasn’t like he closed the blinds. Alessandro and I struggled with our differences, but we also didn’t work to put distance between us, either.
When the light flicked on in his apartment, I took a sip of my wine and settled under the blankets, prepared to watch. Alessandro opened the door, and I grinned in anticipation. He looked handsome in his suit. I couldn’t see his dark gray eyes from here, but I imagined them sparkling with anticipation. His chestnut hair was curled and touching the tips of his ears. His long legs stalked into the room, purpose driving every step, with another man following behind him.
The man with him looked older. I could tell from my perch across the street that he had salt-and-pepper hair and tan skin. His muscles were defined but not massive. He was attractive but didn’t have the masculine presence Alessandro did. I didn’t feel compelled to