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“I didn’t mean to upset you.” He holds his hands in the air in surrender, knowing I can take him down without effort.
“You didn’t.” I push him away. “Just don’t say shit like that again.” Sauntering into the house, I ignore the asshole and try to calm myself down. When I take the steps two at a time, I find myself outside the pretty princess’s room in no time. There’s nobody up here, and I push into her bedroom before I know what I’m doing.
Giuliana is dressed in an exquisite, navy silk dress that hugs her curves far too perfectly. She spins at the sound of the click, gasping when she sees me.
“What are you doing here?”
“I needed to wish you happy birthday on your special day,” I reply, stalking toward her. I could get killed for this, but I don’t care. When I reach her, my hands find her slim hips, and I pull her closer. Her delicate hands land on my shoulders, gripping me as if I’m her lifeline.
“You already did.” The smile on her face lights up my life, along with her sweet, innocent face. Those deep pools shimmer with happiness when she looks up at me.
“Not like this.” I move my hands up her curves, all the way to her arms and shoulders, then delicately I trail my fingertips up her neck to her cheeks. Cupping her face, I hold her steady and crash my mouth to hers.
The sweetness that hits my tongue is nothing short of euphoria. My mouth steals her tiny whimpers as I lick into her warmth. She tastes of apples, and I wonder if she’s been stealing them from the kitchen.
Her hands link around my neck, and soon she’s pressing herself against me. Her legs wrap around my waist, and I can’t help walking us to the wall and pushing her against it. She’s pinned between the wall and my body, and I know she can feel my erection.
“Please, Lance,” she breathes along my lips. Her tiny tits heave as she rolls her hips, her heat against my cock causing me to groan.
&
nbsp; “Jesus, baby girl, I can’t be doing this.”
“Yes, you can,” she pleads, and I almost come in my fucking sweatpants. “I want this.” She sounds so sure of herself. But I should know better. I need to be responsible for us both.
Shaking my head, I insist, “I’m not taking your virtue.” Giuliana is far too special for me to do this here. Her first time should be special, something she’ll always remember. And I promise myself, the day I claim her, it will be when she’s ready.
“Then I’ll wait for you.”
I didn’t know at the time she was serious.
She did wait for me, and I played into Arthur’s plan, but when the man who’s adamant his name is Vincent told me about what was going to happen, I wasn’t sure how to warn her. And by the time I woke up, she was gone.
I’ve messaged Seth, and I hope to shit he’s in town. If Arthur sent him off on a job, I won’t be able to get back to the Tabella until tomorrow. Stalking through the hallways, I find nothing but emptiness.
“Where are you going?” a deep voice comes from behind me.
“You fucking played me,” I bite out. Pulling out the Glock he gave me yesterday, I point it directly at him. “I don’t deal well with lies.”
He nods solemnly. “Your mother is gone. I sent her to rehab. I want to make this right.” The man looks at me, and for a moment, I thought I could see myself in him, but there’s nothing of who I am in this asshole. He’s nothing to me.
“You will.” I smirk, gesturing for him to enter through the door that takes us down to the dungeons. “Where are your men?”
“They’re with Arthur. He—”
“I don’t give a shit what Arthur wants. Or says,” I grit out, shoving him into one of the chairs I know is used for torture because of the table beside it where there's space for tools of the trade. “You fucked me over. You fucked the Cavalieri.”
“I did it to save you.”
Ignoring him, I push him down and proceed in tying him to the arms and legs of the metal chair. He thinks I’m stupid, but more than that, he thinks Arthur Calthorpe is a friend. That’s humorous.
“What are you doing, Lance?”
“You see, father,” the words come out as a threat. “When I told you my father is dead, I meant it.” I pick up the pliers sitting on the old metal tray, opening and closing them as I glare at him. “I watched him die.”
“Arthur made me—”
“Oh, trust me, I know what kind of man Calthorpe is.” Pushing his head back, I jerk his mouth open and reach in with the metal tool. Gripping one of his molars, I tug hard, and blood spurts through the gaping hole.
