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I am quite pleased when I find her standing in the hallway. The dress clinging to her chest and flowing from her hips, the slit running up her left side just barely providing me a glimpse of the silky smooth skin of her thigh. A thigh I intend to devour later this evening.
“So,” she looks at me smugly, “What kind of mafia shit are we going to do today?”
“Mafia shit,” I question back at her, “We don’t call it mafia shit.”
“Brooding crime shit,” she smirks as she turns and begins to walk down the hallway. My eyes fully fixated on her hips as they sway her ass back and forth with each step.
She is fucking infuriating.
She pauses when she reaches the front door, waiting for me.
Opening the door, I gesture for her to go in front of me. She pauses. It is in this moment that I realize she cannot be mine like this. This whole time she has lived in fear of what would happen to her if she steps outside of this house, even the past couple of weeks as I thought something was happening between us. She cannot really ever be mine if she thinks its because she has to be.
Stepping through myself first, I reach my hand out for hers and kindly say, “Come.” Placing her hand in mine, she slowly steps across the threshold. Keeping her hand in mine, I walk her towards the garage where Massimo has already pulled my car out front for me.
Opening the door, I help lower her into the soft leather of the seat. Grabbing the seatbelt, I lean over her while dragging it across her body before clicking it in place.
“I’m capable of doing that myself,” she grumbles back at me.
“Capable or not,” my fingers glide under her chin, “I take care of what’s mine.”
“I am not yours.”
Grabbing firmly on her chin, I tilt her head up towards mine, “I believe it was only a few minutes ago you told me that I own your cunt.”
“My cunt, maybe,” her voice trying to be firm, “but not me.”
Getting into the car myself, I gun the engine and slip the car into gear before placing my right hand on her knee, slipping my fingers between the slit of her dress and sliding my hand up her thigh.
“You are mine.”
You will admit it to yourself soon enough.
ChapterTwenty-Two
Avalie
Renzo squeezes my thigh as we take a sharp turn towards the gate. The internal struggle of pushing his hand away or allowing him to continue to grip my thigh is overwhelming.
My brain continues to tell me that everything about this is wrong. He bought me. He owns me. He is using me.
But my body is continuously yearning for more of what he does to me. The way he makes me feel.
Feel…it’s not just my body.
As though he can read my thoughts, he squeezes my thigh again. His thumb slowly drags back and forth over my skin as he drives. This touch is different. It is not bruising, demanding, or even sexual. It’s soft, tender, and comforting.
Intimate.
The feel of his skin on mine, just touching me, I like it. The feeling is foreign, but it makes me feel wanted.
As much as I continue to try and fight it, I know he is right. I do not know exactly when it happened, but I don’t really hate him anymore. I do not want to run from him. It’s been at least a week, if not longer, since I actually thought about how I was going to get away from here. I did not stop because it was hopeless. I stopped because I don’t want to.
I am pulled from my thoughts when the car comes to stop. Renzo has pulled to the side of the road in front of a rundown nightclub with a for sale sign out front.
Helping me from the car, he leads me to the door with his hand on the small of my back. Inside the club is a gorgeous man that looks like a slightly younger and slightly less muscular version of Renzo.
“Welcome home brother,” Renzo calls across the club getting his attention.
