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He sucked a sharp breath of air through his teeth, closing the space between us. A taunt was etched across his face, making my insides twist. “You’re feisty this morning.”
“Open the damn doors,” I demanded.
He reached forward with a gentle hand, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear but I smacked his hand away.
“Why?” His voice forced a chill to tremble through me. “So that you can swallow a pill and end the potential life growing inside of you?”
My face paled. My chest tightened. It took me a second before bolts of realization zipped through me. He knew.
“Tsk tsk tsk.” He gave his head a light shake, deviance glowing behind his eyes. “I don’t think so.”
“Antonio—”
“I really like hearing you say my name.” He stepped forward but I stepped back, my back pressing against the door as my fingers tightened into hard fists at my side. “I especially like hearing you scream it.” He snatched the space between us, using his firm, muscular body to press me against the door.
My breath hitched but I forced a steady tone. “Don’t do this…”
His head tilted to the right and his brows pinched together with false sympathy. “Don’t do what, tesoro?”
Releasing a shaky breath, I turned my head to the side as the back of my eyes burned with tears. Nausea burned up my throat at the thought of his child growing inside of me for nine months, only for me to have to push it out and satisfy the twisted reality he’d sewn together in his head.
“You’re going to carry my child, Nirah.” His minty breath hit my lips. Slowly, his lips grazed up my jaw and my eyes squeezed shut. My palms pressed against the door behind me as my fingers curled against it.
His words forced a shudder to ripple through me.
Scraping together every last bit of courage, I planted my shaky hands on his firm chest, readying to push him back. “You’re a deranged man, and I’d rather slit my own wrists and bleed out slowly and painfully than carry your blood.”
The move was effortless as he gripped my wrists, pinning them above my head with one hand. His free hand wrapped around my throat, tatted fingers pressing to my pulse.
“You weren’t saying that when I had my dick so deep inside of you that you moaned my name until you reached your dirty little orgasm.” My heart rate increased when he leaned in to whisper. “Squeezing me so hard that my come barely leaked out of you.”
The pulse in my neck slipped between my thighs at the memory itself and my body betrayed me in the worst way possible as liquid heat pooled between my thighs.
Suddenly, the memories of the vile and evil Antonio De Luca fucking me to a blissful orgasm clouded my mind. Fuck, Nirah.
“Go to your bedroom, Nirah.”
“Antonio—”
“Now.” He ordered.
I tilted my chin up, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing me cower. “No. Now open the doors.”
Seeming almost impressed by my perseverance, he leaned in, stealing a kiss but I pulled away from him. “Ask me nicely, yeah?”
“Open the fucking doors, Antonio.” I repeated slowly and clearly. “Or do you prefer the motherfucking doors?” I whispered against his lips but that only made him grin.
“You should put this dirty little mouth to better use.” He pushed his hips to mine.
His cellphone vibrated in his breast pocket and he let go of my wrists, pulling out the device. He glanced down, then lifted his cellphone to his ear.
“What?” he snapped, reaching forward to take my chin in his hand before swiping his thumb across my bottom lip.
I pulled out of his grip, stepping past him and heard him murmur in Italian. Still fuming, I hurried upstairs, thinking of a way out.
I halted, turning in the direction of his office. There should be a key, or a remote or something, right?
Quietly, I headed down the hallway but froze when he whistled behind me. I squeezed my fists at my side, slowly turning to see him shaking his head at me, phone still pressed to his ear.
