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She visibly swallowed and I saw her eyes flood with heat. Removing the flannel from her cheek, I drenched it in the water again but could feel her penetrating gaze on me, watching my every move. Fuck I would love to know what she was thinking. To be able to get inside that pretty head of hers for just five minutes. She was an enigma to me. I never knew what she was going to say or do from one minute to the next. It was thrilling and irritating as hell.
“So what did he look like?” I leaned back up, pushing her knees apart and kneeling between them on the floor. I noticed her breathing change just from the small action and I fought my urge to smirk. Gently, I cleaned the dried blood off her chin and cheek.
“He was wearing a hoodie. Black one. He had blue eyes and was probably in his forties I think,” she muttered, keeping her eyes glued on me. I nodded and slowly brushed the flannel against her cut lip. “Anything else?”
“He had a scar on one side of his face and he was ugly.” I smirked and nodded again.
“That’s good and where were you?” My eyes flickered from hers to her plump lips under the flannel and back.
“We went to a bar on top of the hillside. I can’t remember what it was called. We were walking back down the hill when the bar closed.” I knew exactly where she was talking about. That road was known as a crime spot as there were no streetlights or authorities around. It just made me more pissed at Luca for allowing them to walk down there so late at night.
“Are you going to call the police?” she asked and I gave her a cheeky smile.
“Something like that,” I said, pulling my phone out of my pocket. I dialled Angelo’s number. He was one of my best soldiers and would find this lowlife before the sun rises. Still perched between Olivia’s legs, I held her gaze as I explained what had happened in Italian so she would have no clue that I was ordering him to find the fucker and bring him to me. I watched as desire and longing glimmered in her enchanting eyes as she listened to me speaking fluently in my native tongue. Turns out she wasn’t lying when she said she loved the language. Hanging up the phone, she cleared her throat quickly and I placed the flannel back in the bowl. My rage subsided a little, seeing that the cut wasn’t so bad and she would mainly have a small bruise on her cheek for a few days.
“Do I need to go down to the station and make a statement?”
I shook my head with a smirk. “No. You don’t need to worry about any of it anymore. I have it taken care of.” She frowned, her brown eyebrows creasing into the bridge of her nose. I thought for a moment that she was going to fight me about this and try and get more out of me, but she said a simple thank you instead.
"Did you kiss him?" It was out my mouth before I even realised. Once again, that annoyed glare was back on her face.
"That is none of your business-"
"Did you kiss him?" I kept my voice slow and calm and tried to hide my anger from her, remembering who she thinks I remind her of. I couldn't change overnight though, and I needed to know. She held my gaze for a few seconds.
"No." I kept my face neutral but inside I was relieved and could feel the anger dispersing.
The atmosphere prickled with sexual tension as she leaned back in the chair, hands gripping the sides while I kneeled between her legs. My stomach was so close to her pussy, I could feel the heat radiating from it against my shirt. Fuck, I wanted her so badly. But nothing had changed. She was still her and I was still me.
“I- I think I should go home now,” she whispered, but didn't make any attempt to move. I could see it in her eyes. She wanted me to make her stay. I placed my hands on her knees and slowly ran them up her thighs, inching her dress higher until I could see the whites of her panties.
“What are you doing?” her voice choked, thick with arousal.
“Just checking you are not hurt anywhere else,” I husked. Her eyes widened as my hands went up under her dress and caressed her soft hips. Suddenly, I gripped them and pulled her closer to me, causing her to slide down the chair with a gasp. Now there was no denying that she was wet for me as I felt her heat rubbing against my stomach.
Her lips parted as she looked up at me through her thick eyelashes. “Do you still hate me bambola?”
My fingers continued to trace along her skin, waiting for her answer as her gaze burned into mine.
“Yes.”
I stopped. I pulled down her dress and stood up from my position, walking over to the desk and downing the whiskey she poured herself. My body was on fire. I was so close to not giving a fuck and just taking her then and there, but I couldn’t do it. Not until she stopped hating me. Not until she could separate me from him. Not for my sake, but because she would hate herself if she did.
When I turned back around, she was sitting up straight, with a look of pure thunder. She was fuming. Drunk and fuming Olivia. Not a fun combination. “Come on. I am taking you home.” I said sternly as I walked past her and opened the door.
She glared at me before standing up straight and pushing passed me. What did she expect? That I was going to pleasure her like the last time just for her to tell me how much she hated me again. I wanted her more than I have ever wanted anything in my life but I realised, for the first time ever, I wanted her to want me too.
She stomped down the steps to the bottom and I grabbed the keys to my Ferrari. “This way,” I muttered as she paused on the empty driveway. I needed a fast car. Once I had dropped her home, I was going to rev the shit out of it down the open roads to release my frustration. She tried to hide her surprise when I opened my blood orange metallic Ferrari door for her to climb into. Without giving me a second glance, she crawled in.
I sped through the empty streets of my city with only the purring of my engine between us. Olivia kept her gaze fixed on the window and I gripped the steering wheel so tightly, I thought my knuckles might pop out of my skin. The entire drive I fought a silent war in my head.
Going from wanting to turn the car around and make her mine. To give in to my desires and the overwhelming need to protect this woman. To care for her. But then the more cynical voice argued against it all. What would be the point? Where would this lead to? Heartache and misery on both our parts. I can never be the man she wants me to be. The man she deserves. She has already been through hell. How would it be fair to drag her into my world? And more to the point, she doesn’t even want to. She can’t stand me. I can’t change who I am for her.
“It’s just down this side street,” she mumbled. I turned right and pulled up outside a pretty but shabby looking apartment block. Is this where she lives?
She unbuckled her seatbelt and panic rose in me. I hated this. I needed to say something. Anything. Do something to keep her in the car for just a few more minutes.
“You don't see me in colour.” I blurted out and she turned her head, glancing up at me with a confused expression. What the fuck was I even saying? Well, I have started now. I need to keep going or I will look like I’ve lost the plot. Maybe I have. “You see what you want to see when you look at me. Black and white. Yes. I am controlling, possessive, an asshole and dangerous to many. But that is only what I let the world see. I don’t let many people in Olivia. I don’t know how to. But you...” I sighed and ran my hand through my black hair, staring out the window. I couldn’t look at her. Call me a coward, but once I look into her eyes, I will forget everything I am trying to say. “I want to let you see the other side of me. Or at least try to. I want you to know that I would never hurt you. I may be dangerous to many, but I will never be dangerous to you.”
