“Mr.Santaluccia has been very adamant that you join him.”
“Well, he will survive,” I mutter and turn back to the window, dismissing the conversation.
Could I build a parachute with the bedsheets?
I hear the door click softly shut behind me, but I don’t turn.Let him wait.The Devil can stew in his upscale hell until it freezes over, I’m not granting him a damn thing.
My lip curls in a sneer.For all his terrifying presence, I resent him most for how effortlessly he knows how to make my body submit to him.How it responds to his touch, his voice, his gaze.I want to scream at him, to claw the smug satisfaction from his face, make him feel the powerlessness he’s forced on me.
The door opens again after a few minutes, a bit more forcefully this time.I roll my eyes.Poor Rosa having to play his majesty’s errand boy.Girl.Woman.Whatever.
I sigh.“I am sorry that you have to run back and forth, Rosa, but you can tell his royal darkness to eff off and to get over it.I won’t begracinghim with my presence.”
A deep voice makes me jump.“Why don’t you tell him yourself?”
I whirl around, heart pounding.There he is.
Damiano.Towering in the doorway like a storm about to break.His eyes are locked on me, burning with fury, and for a second, I forget how to breathe.But then the shock fades, and I straighten my spine.Two can play this game.I meet his glare with one of my own, defiant and unblinking.
His gaze drops, sweeping over me, and when it settles on the shirt,hisshirt, draped over my body, something in him shifts.His jaw clenches, sharp enough to cut glass, and a dangerous glint flickers in his eyes like a warning spark before a fire.
Gotcha!
I don’t flinch, don’t smirk.But inside, I’m dancing a full-on petty victory jig.So, the Devil doesn’t like seeing me in his clothes?Too damn bad.From now on I’ll be raiding his closet daily.Silk, cotton, cashmere… I’ll wear it all, solely to watch that little vein twitch in his temple.
Deal with it, Mr.Darcy.
If he wants to play master of the house, he’ll have to get used to Elizabeth Bennet making herself very, very comfortable.
Chapter Seventeen
Damiano
I rake my hands through my hair, uncertainty hitting me for the first time in my life.Was I too rough with her last night?She must be sore.
Fuck.
Last night had been…everything.After I collected her from the club yesterday evening, I had us flown directly to the heliport on top of my building.It took less than an hour for her to arrive safely in my bedroom, in my bed.At last.I don’t care I had to drug her to force her compliance.The outcome justifies the deed.I don’t care if I have to chain her to my bed to make her stay, either.
She is mine.
‘I hate you.’Her words play in a loop in my head.
Is she crying right now?Hating me?Hating what I did?I tell myself I don’t care, that she can loathe me all she wants, as long as she stays mine.The knot in my chest says otherwise.
But she needs to eat.When was her last meal anyway?
I don’t think she’d want to see me yet, not after everything.That’s why I sent Rosa.I thought maybe a gentle, feminine voice would soothe the fire in her.Foolish hope, maybe, but I’m trying.
What’s taking them so long?I let out a breath, sharp and impatient, and drag my fingers through my hair for what must be the hundredth time today.The longer she hides from me, the more the tension coils inside me like a live wire.
I’m not a patient man.No one makes me wait.
“Mr.Santaluccia.”Rosa’s voice is tentative and her tone says it all.
I suppress a growl.Of course she defied me.
“Ms.Lily says she…uh…doesn’t want to come out of the room,” she says delicately.
