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I freeze at his threat, the fight draining out of me as fear sets in for the first time since he growled at me. An overgrown bully, I can handle. But there will be no hiding from Alexander if the police show up. They'll lead him right to my doorstep, and I'll be right back where I started a year ago.
I'd rather die first.
"Ah," Gabriel murmurs, his lips so close to my ear I shiver. "She sees reason."
"Go to hell."
"Haven't you heard?" He laughs without humor. "I've helped rule hell for years, piccola fiamma."
"I have a name," I growl. "Learn to use it."
"I can't learn to use it if I don't know it, tesoro." I refuse to be swayed by the gentle rebuke in his tone, as if it's my fault he can't read a nametag.
"That's odd, because you've only looked at my chest about fifteen times. Surely you saw the nametag." I pause for effect. "Or are you telling me that you don't know how to read? Because I have a hard time believing a man who has Voltaire on his shelves can't read a simple five-letter name."
He brings his hand up, wrapping it gently around my throat. "Keep using that smart mouth on me, Genie, and we'll see how well you spit fire at me when you're choking on my cock."
I fight like hell not to tremble in his arms, refusing to admit that his threat turns me on. Refusing to entertain the reality that this man turns me on. Nope. No way. He's bossy, arrogant…rude. And he speaks to me as if he has the right. He may be beautiful, but he's a despot just like any other, using his name and his fortune to get what he wants.
Well, he's not getting me. Hell will freeze over before that happens.
"Let me go."
"No."
"I'll scream."
"Oh, I hope you do." He nuzzles my throat, breathing me in as if he's scenting prey. Is that what I am to him? Prey? Something to hunt? To play with? Well, he's going to be disappointed when he realizes I'm not an obedient little toy. I bow to no man, not even a Valentino. I won't run from one either. "I hope you scream the fucking building down when I'm pleasing you, piccola fiamma. I don't intend to stop until your voice breaks from the pleasure."
"I'm not sleeping with you," I growl, spinning in his arms to glare up at him. I barely reach his chest, which is a whole new level of irritating. He overwhelms me in every way. I'm five-two and curvy, the type of woman men like him step over on their way to the top. And yet he stares at me like he can't look away.
"Not yet." His smile doesn't reach his eyes. I don't think he's smiled in a long time. But they glint with some emotion that makes me shiver. Excitement. Interest. Desire? I don't know. "You will."
"Never."
His smile widens. "You're coming to work for me."
"I have a job."
"Not anymore. As of this moment, you work for me, tesoro. Or…" He lets the threat linger unspoken. I know what he means though. Or he calls the police and we let the chips fall where they may. I think he knows I can't take that risk, though. The bastard knows he isn't really giving me a choice here.
I think he loves knowing I have no choice and no say. I'm his to command, his to control. And part of me doesn't hate it nearly as much as I should. Another part of me wants to hate him for that.
And yet…I don't.
Can you really hate a predator for being a predator? When the lion brings down the gazelle, as much as you hate it for the gazelle, doesn't a small part of you cheer for the lion?
He's a six-foot-three lion. And I think I may be the little lamb to the slaughter.
"Fine," I growl, giving in about as gracefully as a bull in a china shop. "But I'm not for sell, and neither is my body, Gabriel Valentino. I don't care how much blood money you have or how often you use it to get what you want."
"You'll cook and clean for me."
"Of course that's what you think I'm useful for," I mutter under my breath, rolling my eyes. I instantly regret saying it. He has to think that's all I'm capable of doing. He can't know that I spent my teenage years working at my dad's law firm. He can't know that I'm Gavin Burbank's missing daughter…the same woman Alexander Santorum has turned the city upside down searching for.
"Watch your mouth, piccola fiamma," he says softly. "Before it gets you into trouble you aren't ready to handle."
I'm pretty sure it's already gotten me into trouble I'm not ready to handle. But I don't tell him that. I've played with fire one too many times tonight.
