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My pulse raced as the scent of sandalwood invaded my senses. He smelled so good I wanted to lick his skin. I bit my lip to stop it from trembling, and his face contorted into something sinister.
His eyes dropped to my mouth, like he wanted to take my lip between his teeth. A man like Luca wouldn’t give me a sweet kiss or a peck on the cheek. He would make every second hurt as he branded my lips with his sinful touch.
I swallowed the lump forming at the back of my throat. “If we’re going to work together, we should get to know each other.”
“I know everything about you.”
“Well, I know very little about you.”
“Our families decided our futures a long time ago.” He grinned like a megalomaniac plotting his next move. “A union between our families will secure world domination for the Wellingtons and Salvatores.”
“I don’t want to marry you.”
“People like us don’t get to choose,” he said with zero emotion. “I grew up knowing my father would choose for me. You should come to terms with the arrangement now.”
Luca gripped my curls and pulled my face closer, his lips pressed into a thin line. His expression was unreachable, as if he’d gone to another place in his mind while his body was still very much present and pressing up against me. I felt the warmth and strength of his chest against mine. An uncomfortable silence fell over us, my nerves shaking through me as he held me in his firm grip.
“I like games. And you won’t like how this ends,” he growled against my lips.
His words sounded like a threat. What had made him so cold and hateful?
Even with my horrible upbringing, I still cared about others. But Luca was long gone, replaced by a monster who had teeth and claws. I felt like he would suck the life from my body if I didn’t get away from him. Every second in his presence had me falling deeper under his spell.
Damaged and broken, Luca was the shell of a gorgeous man with a wicked slant to his mouth and blue eyes that sliced through me. He was trying to intimidate me.
But I didn’t understand why.
For a second, I closed my eyes and drank in his essence. Every warning signal in my brain fired at once, but my body didn’t seem to get the memo. Luca was a cruel billionaire who was used to getting what he wanted.
He would go to any length to win this game.
“We’re done talking, Miss Wellington,” he whispered in my ear, speaking to me as if I were some unknown job applicant. Then he reached around me to open the door, pushing me into the hallway. “Your five minutes are up.”
Marcello pulled up in front of a tall wrought-iron gate with a massive W at its center.Wellington Manor. As we drove onto my grandfather’s property, we passed rows of maple trees. Memories of my brother floated into my mind. The first summer we spent in Devil’s Creek, we camped out under those trees.
Our grandmother hated us and made it known we were not welcome in her home. So we spent most of our time outside. We had so much fun back then, before we understood why our grandparents had invited us to live with them. By the end of the summer, I realized my rags to riches fairy tale was a lie. My grandfather only wanted to use us as pawns.
It didn’t feel right being here without Aiden. Even though it was only one night, I missed my twin.
We parked in front of a sprawling mansion with a circular driveway. I flung open the door, one foot out of Marcello’s Maserati, before he grabbed my wrist.
“I’ll be back at three o’clock,” he said in a deep and menacing tone. “You won’t like the consequences if I have to hunt you down.”
“You don’t own me, Marcello.”
I slammed the door and walked toward the house. A man in his late sixties, dressed in a black suit and armed with a warm smile, greeted me.
“Alexandrea,” he said with his head lowered. “Welcome back to Wellington Manor.”
“Thank you, Charles.”
Charles had worked for my grandparents since he was my age. During my first summer at Wellington Manor, he’d made me feel at home. He never yelled at Aiden and me and always fixed us snacks. Treated us like teenagers who desperately needed parents.
I stepped into the house and glanced over my shoulder at Marcello as he drove away.Good riddance. For the first time in twenty-four hours, I breathed easier without someone on my ass.
I walked down the long hallway, toward the sitting room with Charles. The interior of the home did not fit my grandfather’s personality at all. Wellington Manor was cold and sterile, with its white walls and floors. Minimal color unless you counted black and cream. Even the expensive paintings couldn’t bring this place to life.
We entered the formal sitting room. Perched on a white leather couch that looked as stiff as its occupant, Blair Wellington—my grandmonster from hell—pursed her lips. Her eyes lifted from my hands to my face with a disapproving look. I always had paint or charcoal on my skin and clothes.
