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“Why?” I whisper.
“Because I want to drive my car to the mansion and drag you out of the bathtub to take you home with me.”
I rub my thighs together. “What would you do once you had me?”
“I’d put you in my bed and fuck you until our bodies could no longer move.”
“Antonio.” I sigh.
“Gigi.” His voice is gentler this time. “You have no idea how bad I want to make you mine.”
I’ve rarely had gentle Antonio. Even though I enjoy the lunatic side of him, I also find comfort in his softness too. It’s like receiving a tight hug after a nightmare from the very monster who haunts you.
“Even saying that is crazy,” I say.
“You already know I’m fucking crazy, princess.”
I gulp in nervousness. “What do you want from me, Antonio?” I shut my eyes, already fearing the answer. He’s made it clear he wants me, but does wanting someone also mean loving them?
I want Antonio, and I know he wants me. I just don’t know if he’s capable of giving me everything I want.
Love. Affection. A man who wants me and only me.
I want the fucking fairy tale, dammit.
“I want to own you,” he says.
“What if I want to own you?” I whisper.
“Princess—” He stops, and I hear voices interrupting him from continuing. His voice trails off, as if he’s moved the phone to prevent me from hearing their conversation.
His voice is irritated when he returns to our call. “I need to go.”
“Okay,” I say softly.
“Plan another trip to Italy.”
“Okay.”
“And, Gigi?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re already starting to own me.”
“We need to talk,” my father says as I sit beside him at the dining room table for breakfast. The sharpness in his tone tells me that Bruno was a little snitch.
I’ll return the favor and tell side-chick number two that he has a live-in girlfriend.
“About what?” I arrange my napkin in my lap to distract myself from glancing at him or Benny across from me.
“Bruno said you ran off somewhere at the festival.” He holds up his hand. “And don’t try to feed me a story that you were hanging out in the restroom for nearlya fucking hour.”
“I started my period and needed a tampon.” I reach across the table and select a blueberry muffin from the bowl.
“We’re not fucking stupid, Gigi,” Benny scolds. “You’re randomly disappearing. Spending time in public restrooms like they’re holding a fucking yoga class. You’re up to something.”
“I’m not up to anything.” I roll a muffin crumb between my fingers. “Sorry for attempting to have some privacy. I’m tired of always having a bodyguard up my ass.”
