Page 4 of His Virgin Queen

“Take it off.” I step back as she struggles to her feet, then whirls on me.

She holds the torn dress to her chest. “Stop!”

I like this better, the fire in her tone. No more dead water. Instead there’s heat there. Ire.

I want more. “I said take it off. I don’t like it.”

“No.” She kicks her chin up. “If you’re going to kill me, get it over with, but I’m not here to be your peep show.”

I could bend her over this table here and now, ravage her and walk away. I should. I don’t need any more messes from the Tuscani clan.

Instead, I stand my ground. “Take it off.” The tone I use--it’s the same one plenty of men have heard right before I kill them.

She doesn’t respond, but her chin trembles.

“If you don’t, I’ll do it for you.” I’d enjoy that. Just ripping it down the back has my blood running hot.

With a look that could break a normal man’s heart, she drops the torn fabric and crosses her trembling hands over her breasts even though she’s wearing a white bra.

“Better. Now step out of it.”

“Why?” She glances down my body, distrust in her caramel eyes.

“I already told you. I don’t like it. The moment you’re out of it, I’ll have my associate burn it.” I snap my fingers and Gio hurries into the room.

“Boss?”

“Take that gown and dispose of it along with Antonio.”

“Yes, sir.” He strides over to her and grabs a piece of the poofy skirt, then waits for her to obey my command.

“Step out of it.” I move toward her and offer my hand.

She eyes it like it might bite her, but takes it so she can wrestle her way free from the white monstrosity. Then she lets go. Her soft touch warmed my skin, and I flex my hand.

Once she’s free, I see she’s wearing demure white panties and low-heeled white shoes. No lace, no garter, nothing intentionally sexy. She didn’t intend on having a fun wedding night, though I’m certain Antonio would have rutted on her all the same.

“Come.” I hold my hand out again.

She shakes her head as she presses her thighs tightly together and keeps her hands over her breasts.

“I won’t ask you again, cara mia.” I take her in, enjoying the way her waist narrows and her hips flare, the thick thighs and the small ankles. She was far too much woman for Antonio. “You won’t like what happens next if you don’t obey.”

“Of course you’ll hit me. That’s what your kind does.” She presses her lips into a thin line and gives me her hand.

The thought of someone hitting her sends a jolt of ice into my veins. I’m a violent man, but raising a hand to this rare beauty with the big brown eyes? Who would dare? The demand for names is on the tip of my tongue, but then she slides her hand into mine again. Her warmth permeates my skin, and my bloodlust fades.

I lead her from the room and toward the front of Antonio’s overdone mansion. “What’s your name?”

“You don’t know?” She keeps trying to cover herself, so I stop, unbutton my coat, and then drape it across her shoulders.

She pulls it closed, even though it’s huge on her, and looks up at me with open surprise. “Thank you.” She says it as more of a question.

“You’re welcome.” I take her hand again and keep walking. We’re leaving this shithole behind. I’ll add it to my holdings and liquidate it—just as I did its owner—as soon as possible.

“Where are we going?” she asks as we walk out into the chilly night.

“Does it matter?” I look down at her.

She thinks for a moment, then shakes her head. “No. I suppose it doesn’t.”

I help her into the back of the black Mercedes, then move to slide in beside her.

A gunshot shatters the window beside me, and I hit the ground.

Reaching inside the car, I shove her down onto the floorboard, then pull my piece and stalk my next kill. Any man who comes at me will face my wrath.

And one that endangers this pretty little thing that now belongs to me?

He’s already signed his fucking death warrant.

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