Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“Not typically with women, no. But for you, I might make an exception. And whether or not you accept the fact that you are collateral doesn’t really change the fact or matter for our purposes.”
I get off her, flip her onto her side, and smack her ass hard.
She grunts and rolls onto her back when I release her. “Hate to break it to you, but your brother beat you to it.”
I get off the bed, push a hand through my hair and count to ten because fuck if Bastian isn’t right. This woman can push my buttons like no one else.
“What do you mean?”
“My ass. He already spanked it.”
“Did he? Clearly neither hard nor long enough. I can remedy that if need be.”
She glares at me but keeps her mouth shut. I look her over as she sits up. Her top has ridden up to expose her flat belly. All that pretty, pale skin. But that’s not what catches my eye now. It’s the small nail file that is sticking half out of the pocket of her shorts.
She follows my gaze and at least has the decency not to try to hide it when she meets my eyes again.
I hold out my hand.
She takes the file, but I hold up a finger. “You try to stab me with it, and I’m taking the kid gloves off. Do you hear me?”
“Oh, were you wearing kid gloves?”
“Do you fucking hear me?”
“Yes, I fucking hear you.”
She lays the metal file in the palm of my hand. Clearly, Bastian or I will have to sweep the room. The housekeeper must have left this in the bathroom. I’d gone through her suitcase, and there wasn’t anything there.
“What else did my brother do?”
“Apart from humiliating me and letting me know how much he hates me, nothing.”
“Don’t provoke him, Vittoria.”
“He’s insane, Amadeo. Unhinged.”
“He’s processing. You just be careful around him.”
“As opposed to not needing to be careful around you?”
“I can rein it in.”
“Clearly.” She touches her throat.
I walk to the window to watch for Bastian and see him swimming back toward shore. I can relax. He’s fine. I turn back to her and take her by the arm.
“Let’s go.”
“Where?” she asks, resisting as I walk her toward the door.
“My room. You’ll sleep with me tonight.” She resists the whole way to my room, which is a few away from hers.
“What? Why?” she asks once we’re inside. I see her take it all in, though.
“Because you can’t be trusted.”
Her gaze falls to the dresser. I follow it and see her father’s ring lying carelessly on top of it. I drop it into a drawer.
“That’s not yours,” she says, not sounding quite so rebellious at the sight of it. Probably remembering the moment Bastian took it from her dead father’s finger.
“No, it’s not.”
I unbutton the top buttons of my shirt, then undo my cuffs to tug it off over my head, and she’s distracted. Her mouth falls open, and her eyes go wide as she takes in my shoulders, my bare chest and arms. Her gaze pauses at the scar left by The Reaper that almost killed me. I let her see.
She clears her throat, blinks, her neck and cheeks flushing red as she shifts her gaze to the dandelion tattoo on my forearm, then up to my face.
I keep my eyes locked on her, remembering how she came earlier. How she sounded when she did. How she looked at me. I walk toward her.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Getting ready for bed.”
“I’m not sleeping with you.”
“Well, I can’t have you sleeping alone until I sweep the room.”
“I’m not going to do anything.”
“You’ll understand if I don’t trust you. You seem resourceful.” I unbuckle my belt and pull it out of its loops.
“Stop!”
“I need to take a shower,” I tell her. “Lie back.”
She looks warily at the belt, then at me. “Why?”
“So I can tie you to the bed.”
“What? You don’t need to tie me to the bed.”
“It’s either that or you join me in the shower, Dandelion.”
“I will skip both options, thank you.”
“It wasn’t a question of whether or not you’ll do either. It was a question of which one. I’m guessing you’d prefer not to be naked in tight quarters with me, but if I’m wrong…”
“Oh my God, you’re serious.”
“As a heart attack.”
“Unbelievable. You’re an asshole, you know that?” She holds out her wrists.
“So you’ve said.” I draw her wrists over her head to the headboard, forcing her to lie down as I do. Her eyes roam over my face, returning to that scar as I bind her wrists and weave the belt through the rungs of the headboard, then straighten to look at my handiwork. It makes me smile. “I like you like this, little Dandelion.”
She flips both middle fingers up at me and turns onto her side, giving me her back.