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“Relax,” I quickly cut him off. “There’s no better way to show them you don’t give a fuck that you killed their son.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Just keep your eyes and hands on me. We’ll be in and out, we’re only here to pick up a case ofvinoforPapà.”
“Oh, is that all?”
Climbing from the car, I roll my eyes and exhale, “You’re never going to make it through the party tomorrow night.” The moment the words leave my mouth I regret them, as his face suddenly has a look of sheer determination to prove me wrong.
He slips his hand into mine and interlocks our fingers as we walk toward the little store to pick upPapà’scase ofvino. When we reach the patio, he uses his hold on my hand to pull me toward the little outdoor tasting bar.
“What are you doing?” My question is a mixture of a whisper and a sneer.
“It’s a beautiful day,bella.Take a moment to enjoy it with me.” He raises two fingers to the wine steward behind the bar before placing a kiss on my neck and giddily whispering in my ear, “How am I doing?”
Pulling back and standing before me, he has a cheeky smirk and a cocked brow. I would pistol whip him again—and thoroughly fucking enjoy it—but to the Bernardi family this is going to look like a cock measuring contest. They think he killed Luca for fucking me and is now enjoying me in front of all of them.
It’s bold, I’ll give him that.
Sitting in the seat beside me, we talk as we enjoy ourvinoand the view of the vineyard. He tells me a bit about how he goes wine tasting often in California and his favorite vineyards there. As he talks, his hand roams aimlessly up and down my thigh, occasionally giving a possessive squeeze. He grips the most upper part of my thigh, and I place my hand over his to hold him there.
Setting his glass on the table, he slips a finger under my chin and tips my face to his. He stares at me with the adoration of a man completely enamored with the love of their life as he speaks, “With the flush of your cheeks from the sun and the wine, you look even more beautiful.”
Leaning forward, his lips dust over mine. He lightly grips my chin and pulls me closer, demanding more. Slightly parting my lips, the tip of his tongue slides between them. His kiss is soft and needy, as he teasingly licks between my lips. It takes my breath away.
It isn’t until he pulls back from me that I realize he wasn’t pretending just now—and neither am I.
“We should get going,amore,” I tell him, my term of endearment merely for our captive audience. I feel their eyes still on us as I quickly gulp the remainingvinoin my glass and place it on the table. Richard follows suit. After gathering thevinoforPapà, we head to the car.
We drive in near silence to the museum. The only words spoken are me providing him with the directions he needs to get us there and him occasionally attempting to make conversation.
Thankfully, this is a short drive.
My thoughts run rampant as I try, unsuccessfully, to mentally distance myself from him as we walk hand in hand through the museum. Turning the corner, we walk down a long hall to a more desolate part of the castle. Richard pulls me close. Looking up to him, I’m met with his furrowed brow. “What’s wrong, Cat?”
Everything! This arrangement is feeling less fake by the minute. I don’t fucking do this dating bullshit. And you’re going back to America soon.
But those aren’t the words that leave my mouth.
“You fucking infuriate me, Richard.”
DICK
“Iinfuriateyou?” My voice is full of ire as I drag her down a hall, well away from the small groups of people actually here to look at the art.
“Sì.” She assertively nods as I pull her into a small alcove, hiding us from view of anyone in the main room.
“Well, this hot and cold with you really pisses me the fuck off!” I growl, itching to wrap my fingers around her throat and pin her against the wall. I fucking give in, simultaneously pissed off and turned on by the thought of her using me.
“This isn’t real, Richard. I’m not going to fall in love with you, while I pretend to care about you.”
“So, you’re just going to pretend to hate me instead?”
“Sì.” She stares up at me with her color-flecked, hazel eyes. They are full of anger—and lust. The gaze between us searing, both of our chestsheaving, as we try to struggle against this magnetic pull between us. My fingers tighten slightly around her throat, and I can feel the rapid beating of her pulse against the tip of my fingers.
She might be trying to fight it, but I can’t fucking resist her anymore.
“You can pretend to hate me, bella.” I unzip my pants, pull out my cock, and hastily gather her skirt around her waist. “But you’re going to do it with my cock buried inside of you.” I grab her thigh and pull it over my hip as I grip the base of my cock. Sliding her panties to the side and aligning it with her entrance, I cover her mouth with my free hand as I roughly shove into her to the hilt. Her moan vibrates against my palm and travels straight to my cock.
