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"Why does that concern you?"
"Because you’re my wife?"
"Only for the time it takes to convince your family that we’re married," I retort.
He narrows his gaze. "Exactly. The key word here being ‘convince.’ If we want to put on a good show, it’s important that we understand each other. And that starts with my finding out what is bothering you."
"Do you always have to get your own way?" I grouse.
He laughs. "Do I have to answer that question?"
"It’s so easy for you, eh? You snap your fingers and expect people to fall into line. Well, I have news for you, I’m not such a pushover."
"Which is what I love about you." His voice is perplexed, as if he’s trying to figure out the meaning of his words. He looks between my eyes again. "Tell me why, after coming as hard as you did, you’re resisting the aftereffects of your orgasm, and instead, seem to be upset?"
I want to protest that I didn’t come that hard, but sadly, the evidence of it is all over his mouth and on his still-glistening chin. Also, if I said that, he’d simply try to prove me wrong, and probably coax me into another orgasm, and then I really won’t be able to think at all. Instead, I settle for saying, "Let me up first."
He clicks his tongue. "You can’t make demands of me, Angel. That’s not how this works."
"See? That’s what drives me up the wall, this… this… domineering way you have of commanding me."
"It’s what turns you on."
"No, it doesn’t."
"Sure it does." His smile widens. "When I order you to obey me, your heart beat increases. When I demand you give in to me, your pupils dilate.” He leans in so close that his lips are almost on mine again. "And when I dominate you in bed, it drives you so crazy, your pussy contracts, searching for the only thing that’s going to put you out of your misery. My cock."
Little flames of desire flare to life under my skin. My core clenches as if in response to the erotic picture he paints. Damn, he’s a dirty talker, in addition to being the most potently masculine man I’ve ever met. I never did stand a chance against him, did I?
I’m going to lose myself in him, and when this short duration of whatever it is we’re sharing is over, I’m going to have to let him go with my heart firmly in his grasp. I’ll have fallen for him, and then, even though our marriage will be in name only, I’ll never be able to look at another man again. All I’ll have left is my passion for my career, which has been enough so far. It’ll have to be again.
So why is it that the thought of not having him in my life feels so much worse than losing the lead in the musical? My heart crashes into my ribcage with such force that I feel the vibrations in my throat. The blood chatters in my veins.No, no, no. It’s not possible.I can’t be falling for this heartless, brutal mobster. He’s on the wrong side of the law. He’s a criminal, for heaven’s sake. One doesn’t go around falling in love with a man who commits grave transgressions for a living… Or agreeing to fake a marriage with one, for that matter. I never should have agreed to this scheme of his, but what choice did I have? Since I was kidnapped—which was also his fault—my entire, orderly life has been turned upside down.
"Luca, please let me go," I say in a low voice.
"No," he snaps.
"I don’t want to be with you, okay?" I cry out.
Anger spools off of him and slams into my chest. His entire body seems to tense. His features change until that tenderness I glimpsed earlier disappears, to be replaced by a cunning look.
"And you didn’t think of this when you agreed to my proposal?"
"It was a fake proposal, an arrangement, and I didn’t think it would become this intense between us. Also, if you recall, you didn’t give me a choice. The only way I could have returned in time for the premiere of my musical was if I agreed to your stupid scheme. I didn’t except things to get so heated. Didn’t think I’d be attracted to you. I can’t do this, Luca, not with a criminal."
His chest rises and falls, and color smears his cheeks. His muscles grow rock hard. His shoulders seem to swell. Oh no, he’s doing that Hulk thing again, where I’m sure he’s going to explode out of his clothes and roar with anger.
"L-Luca?" I gulp. "Are you okay?"
He releases me and sits up. Cool air rushes over my body, and I realize how exposed I am. I manage to push myself up to a sitting position. I straighten my clothes, shoot him a sideways glance, then wish I hadn’t.
He stares straight ahead, his fingers clenched into fists. With his massive thighs spread, and the muscles of his shoulders bunched, he seems to take up almost all of the space in the back of the car, and it’s not a small area, I’ll tell you that. A pulse beats at his temple. The tendons of his throat flex. Anger pours off him in waves. I squeeze further against my door, trying to put distance between us.
"So, if I weren’t a criminal, you would feel differently?"
I twist my fingers together. The unfamiliar weight of the ring weighs them down. I stare at the gorgeous golden-brown stone. My birthstone. He’d had to have known it. How had he guessed it? That had been thoughtful on his part. He may be someone who shoots people, but damn, he has fine taste.
"Don’t keep me waiting," he says in a hard voice.
