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“What?” her eyes widen.
“You’re done.” I lean over the counter and grab her by her arms, dragging her up and across.
“What are you talking about? Let go of me!” she fights, trying to pull out of my grasp and I tighten my hold on her, so she stops squirming. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I’ll drive myself.”
Matias opens the door and before we go out, I slam her against the closed side. “You aren’t ever to be out of my sight. You are mine now.”
“I am far from yours,” she seethes just as my nose touches hers.
My fingers drift down her side, sparks of electricity tickling the pads of them. “You’re mine in all the ways that matter, Tesoro. Remember, you’re mine for a year.”
“It doesn’t mean I do what you say.”
“Mmm, no, but it does mean I get to have fun getting you to try. You won’t be coming back here for a while.”
“I need to tell my family.”
“I’ll take care of that,” I state, pushing her out the door. “Don’t fight me. Do not cause a scene. Do not draw attention. For all we know, Bianchi is watching and the less guilty you look, the better.”
“I’m not guilty,” she weakly argues.
Matias opens the back door of the luxury black vehicle and when she dips her head down, I grip her by the back of the neck, spin her around, and pin her against the car.
“Ari, we have to go,” Matias warns me.
“I’ll get in the driver’s seat,” Gianni states, and Matias watches over us.
“Sorry Matias, I need to have a word with my fiancé,” I grit, falling deeper into those blue eyes she spits fire with.
“I am not your fiancé.”
“Must you argue about everything? Do you always have to fight? Do you always have to have the last word? Because you are my fiancé.”
“I’m not your fiancé until I sign the dotted line, you overgrown, money hungry…”
I raise my brows, daring her to say the vile words on the tip of that pretty tongue. “You were saying?”
“Just a few beeps here and there,” she says bitterly.
She was about to cuss me out.
“We need to work on that mouth of yours. It’s so filthy.” I push her down and she falls into the car, landing in the back seat. Her face is level with my cock and when she looks up at me, those long lashes touching her brows and her eyes full of hate, my cock aches with want. “You look good down there,” I tease her, wanting to rile her up again because why the hell not?
She’s sexy when she’s mad.
She rolls her eyes but then they land on my cock. “In your dreams, Mafia Man. You’ll take me to a clinic, come in a cup, and that is how I’ll get pregnant.”
“We’ll see about that.” I knew I wasn’t going to come in a damn cup. We’d make a baby the old-fashioned way. I’m a patient man and there’s no way in hell I’ll going to miss having sex with my wife. I’m a possessive asshole and even though this is a business deal, I’m going to treat her as if this is real.
“We won’t see shit,” she grumbles, then gasps when she realizes her mistake.
I slip into the car and Matias shuts the door. “What was that?”
“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.” She crosses her arms in a huff. “But if I did say something—”
“—Here we go,” I say under my breath, my head throbbing from her constant need to argue and have the last word. I said it low enough so she couldn’t hear me.
“—If I did say something, I would have said, ‘We won’t see shit.’ But that’s if I said something, which I didn’t.”
