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"Get out of my sight," I snap
"The money, or her. You have forty-eight hours." He pivots and leaves.
“Anyone tell you that you have a flair for theatrics?” She turns on me. "And how dare you speak to me like that? I amnotan asset. I amnotsomething to be handed over, I amnot—"
I lean forward and clap my fingers around the nape of her neck. "You are my property. Mine. Mine to fuck, if I want. Mine to own. Mine to control. Mine to do with as I want, and I am not letting anyone take you away from me, you feel me?"
Her green eyes dart sparks at me. Her features are flushed. A pulse flutters at her throat. With her hands curled into fists at her sides, and with strands of hair framing her face, she looks like an avenging angel. My angel.
"Fuck you, Massimo," she says in a tight voice.
"I intend to." I grab her hand and haul her across the floor and toward the service doors in the far corner.
"Where are you taking me? The elevators are the other way."
"And he just went that way."
"Oh, right." She shuts up, thank fuck, and allows me to lead her through the double doors, past the sous-chefs in the kitchen, past the chef yelling at another sous-chef, and past the dishwasher, who gives us a curious look. We make it out the back door, then into another passageway, and to the service elevator. I slap the button, still holding her hand as we wait. She tries to pull her arm from my grasp, and I glare at her.
"Can you stop fidgeting?"
"Can you stop acting like a dog with a hurt paw?"
"What?"
"You’re acting really stupid and overly possessive."
The car arrives and the doors open. I step inside, pull her in after me, and stab the button for the ground floor. "I’m the one acting stupid? Do you realize how completely foolish you were in there? Have you forgotten where you come from? Do you understand how much danger you put yourself in when you yelled at him?"
"I’m not afraid of anything."
"And that’s what got you in this position." I jerk my chin at her scar.
She pales. "H-how dare you? It’s not my fault someone shot at me."
"It’s your fault that you stepped up on that stage. Your fault you decided to become an actress."
"How dare you say such a thing?" she cries out.
"Why couldn’t you have stayed home and quietly married whoever your family chose for you?" I close the distance between us, and she skitters back until her back hits the wall of the elevator car. "That way, I wouldn’t have met you. I wouldn’t have slept with you. I wouldn’t have become obsessed with you. Since I met you, my entire world has been turned upside down."
"You’re making no sense." She plants her palms on my chest and tries to push me away. The touch of her hands slides under my skin and arrows straight to my groin.
"You know what doesn’t make sense? How I could kill a guy—and your own brother, at that—for you, and not feel a shred of emotion. All I felt was relief. Then, that asshole dared look at you, and all I could think of was that I’d take pleasure in tearing him limb from limb. I am going to tear his heart out and cut him into little pieces so his blood stains the ground. Then, I’m going to throw you down in it, pry your thighs apart, and fuck you until you come."
She swallows. Her pupils expand until there’s only a circle of green left at the edges of her irises.
"You’re crazy," she whispers.
"Fucking crazy about you. Crazy enough to want to marry you as soon as I saw you in that bar. Crazy enough to want to hide you away until this danger has passed." A hot sensation coils in my chest. I glance between her eyes. "Crazy enough to conceal you from all prying eyes, and fuck you until you know your place."
"What?" She blinks rapidly. "Are you even hearing yourself?"
"Crazy enough..." I bend my knees and peer into her eyes. "To start right now.” I slide the gun into the waistband at the small of my back, then lean over and slap the stop button on the elevator.
43
Olivia
