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He pulled a ring box out of his pocket, and he did not drop down to one knee. “I’ve made the request already, I think,” he said, opening the box and presenting it to her. It was huge. A statement piece if ever there was one, and she herself was so very not a statement piece that it seemed shocking, and nearly vulgar.
But he didn’t ask her, and instead was sliding the monumental rock onto her finger.
As if...
As if something so magnificent, something so glorious, should be there. On her thin, fine-boned hand that was not manicured or elegant or anything of the sort.
She recalled her school friends had once likened her hands to claws.
And there was Dante Fiori’s ring.
On one of her claws.
Min swallowed hard, and when she looked up at him, he was gazing at her with sharp intent. It pierced her, made her feel like she couldn’t breathe. And before she could do anything, say anything or decide how she might react, he was moving in toward her.
All that sharp intensity was focused on her, and somehow she could feel it gathering in her stomach, nearly painful.
He was so close they were breathing the same air.
And then, his mouth was on hers.
Hismouth.
This, she knew, was not kissing.
It couldn’t be.
She had been kissed before by that stranger in the club, and that hadn’t been kissing either. Because it had been unpleasant and cold, and it made her want to run, rather than embrace the man giving it.
But this...
It was not romantic.
It was not gauzy and sweet, wrapped in warm summer breezes and crashing waves. Blooming flowers and other grand literary euphemisms.
It made something in her stomach twist hard. Made her feel like some creature was biting down on her windpipe. The feel of his lips against hers was so real. So very physical. They were warm, and firm, and as he took command of all things, he took command of her mouth.
Shifting her slightly so that she was fitted more firmly against him.
All in all, the kiss was not terribly long, and it was not terribly intimate, but when it was done she felt like she had been hollowed out, her hands shaking, her whole body shaking.
And he looked... As unreadable as ever. Utterly infuriating, that man. He was like a block of obsidian that could not and would not be disturbed, not by anything. Least of all by her.
He had just handed her a ring, and then he had pressed his mouth to hers and tilted her entire world on its axis.
And there he was. Like a guardian of the underworld, completely unbothered by the whole thing.
The audacity of the man.
He had just kissed her. And he hadn’t had permission. She would badger him about it, but she had the distinct impression that he wouldn’t care.
“Shall we go mingle, cara mia?”
He whispered that question in her ear, and he made it look as though there was an intimacy between them that there just wasn’t.
That is the entire point of all of this. Keep it together.
But she was having difficulty keeping it together. Because he was very large and hard beside her, and because she had always liked the idea of creating an effect in him. When she had followed him about and pestered him when she was a girl, part of it was that she had enjoyed seeing if she could get a reaction.
