I watch her lift one arm into the air, curving it back until she’s staring at the ceiling, her other hand lightly holding onto the metal to keep her balance as she raises up on her tip toes. The movement has her calves appearing even more prominent, the cutting lines of her muscled, yet lean legs have me throbbing against my zipper.
Fuck, how I’d love to bend her in all the positions I can while she takes me deep inside that hourglass figure. I clear my throat, tired of watching and needing to have the space to myself and free from desire for the woman I hate. The sound jolts her. She snaps her gaze to mine as a soft gasp tumbles free from her plump, soft pink lips.
“I-I…” she mumbles, racing from the closet and shutting the door before she stops in front of me. The shock slowly wears off, but the guilt that she’d been caught in here is etched on her pretty face. She’s got an elfin look about her. Raven-hued hair, soft pale skin with a beautifully curled mouth. Her eyes are the softest shade of green, while her brows are dark as they frame the almond-shaped orbs.
She has high cheekbones which are pinkened from embarrassment. I want to taunt her some more, just to see how dark that shade will go, but I’m not in the mood to have her in my space, not yet anyway.
“I’ll show you to your bedroom,” I tell her without acknowledging the fact that I caught her snooping. Turning on my heel, I head for the door before she speaks again.
“I need to know what you’re going to do with me,” she says, her voice strong and confident compared to moments ago. It’s the same poise she displayed in the warehouse, and I decide I like it, even though I know it will get her into trouble with me.
I don’t bother responding as I head into the hallway with her padding behind me. Her steps are quick, soft, and almost silent. But I hear her. I feel her. I stop outside the guest bedroom I had made up for her when I realized there was no going back on this arrangement. It was the best course of action. The room has been waiting for her for years, and I hope she likes it. Shaking my head at the errand thought, I fist my hands in frustration at the idea of me wanting her to be comfortable.
She’s here to pay for her father’s sins, not to be coddled like a princess. She may have come from a home where everyone treated her like royalty, but she’s no queen in the De Rossi clan.
Not yet.
Not until I allow her to be.
“This will be your bedroom,” I tell her, ignoring her earlier question. “You’ll stay in here until I call for you. In the morning, I’ll have my men outside the door. If you need anything, ask them and they’ll get it for you.”
“Enzo—”
I spin on my heel when she whispers my name. Anger surges through me that this girl can affect me in ways no woman ever has. My hand shoots out as my fingers grip her neck in a tight hold. A dick-hardening gasp tumbles from her mouth, and I want nothing more than to swallow every sound she makes.
“You’ll refer to me as Mr. De Rossi until I say otherwise,” I say, my tone filled with unadulterated venom. “Only my friends and family call me Enzo. You’re neither of those.” Not yet anyway, my mind adds silently. “Nod if you understand,” I instruct my sweet little dancer.
She obeys and I release her, moving away to inhale a breath that doesn’t fill my senses with her. In the bedroom, I turn, glancing over my shoulder to wait for her to follow. When she does, I look away, needing to focus on anything else but the way she heats my blood.
“You know, I’m not just some toy you can push around,” Luna tells me as she sidles by me as if I didn’t just have my fingers wrapped around her neck. She heads for the window, which overlooks the city below. The lights are twinkling, the Big Apple alive with possibility, and in the distance, the sky has turned an inky shade which matches her hair.
For the first time in my life, I’m speechless. I’ve never had a woman in my apartment for longer than it took for her to make me come. And then, she would be out on her ass before she can thank me for the pleasure.
This woman will be my wife soon.
“You’re here to repay the De Rossi Familia for your father’s sins,” I inform her, but I’m sure she already knows that. I watch her for a long while and when she finally sighs, nodding in response.
She turns to regard me then. “My father may have made bad choices in his life, but with your parents—”
My hand is on my knife in seconds, and I’m closing the distance between me and my new bride before she can finish her sentence. Her fear is palpable when I shove her back against the window. Her back flat against the cool glass as my arm rests on her windpipe. The sleek, silver blade whispers a threat against her cheek. “If you ever speak of what happened again, if you ever try to say your father was in the right to do what he did, or if you ever, ever mention my parents again,” I hiss, my words dripping poison onto the space between us. “I will end you just like they sliced my parents into ribbons. Mattea Cavallone may not have their blood on his hands, but the Cavallones are stained nonetheless.”
She tips her head back, her chin lifting in defiance at me. “Do it,” she says, pushing against the blade that’s kept me safe each time I’ve wielded it against an enemy. The smooth skin of her delicate neck darkens slightly from the scrape of metal, and my cock throbs against my zipper.
Pushing away from her before she hurts herself, I narrow my gaze, locking my stare on hers. “Don’t tempt me, little dancer.” Tipping my head to the side, I can’t stop the sinister smile from curling my lips. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we get to know each other.” I turn and make my way to the exit. This time, I shut myself out of her bedroom before I lean against the smooth wooden surface, my eyes closed, my head tipped back against the door.
Pulling my cell phone from my pocket and I hit call on Mario’s number before making my way to the living room where I pour a double shot of smoky Macallan. When he doesn’t answer the first time, I try again, and that’s when he picks up.
“Have you killed her already?” he asks in greeting, but the amusement in his tone tells me he thinks I’ll probably murder the pretty little dancer before I say I do.
“No,” I bite out before swallowing back the deep amber liquid. The burn trails its way down my throat, and I revel in the fire as it reaches my stomach. “I can’t have her live here.”
“She’s going to be your wife, Enzo,” he tells me in a tone that frustrates me. This is why I’ve been friends with him for as long as I have, he’s levelheaded where I am more inclined to go with murder, before going along with this stupid idea my father had, that me marrying someone, will settle me down.
“She’s invaded my bedroom, my closet, even my fucking head,” I finally bite out. “She’s a nuisance, and I don’t like the distraction. I have work to do and I can’t concentrate if she’s going to go snooping around my house.”
Mario sighs. I picture him rolling his eyes and smiling as he listens to my frustrations. “Get to know her, give her a chance.”
“Are you saying I’ll eventually love her?” I sneer, the thought causing my body to burn hot with anger. “She’s a Cavallone, the only way I’ll ever feel anything for her is when I finally get to slice all that pretty porcelain skin from her bones.”