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One, Dante was going to be my fiancé. Two, we might kill each other before we ever made it to the altar.
More like the devil sent to work on my last nerve.
Instead, I was stuck with a brooding Italian who wouldn’t know good manners if they slapped him in the face.
Somehow, I’d entered into a cold war with my fiancé, and tonight was just the opening battle.
Translation: You were an asshole before you left, and I took it out on your bank account.
“Here I thought you only ate caviar and human hearts.”
“Maybe you guys will finally fuck tonight.” Isabella’s voice crackled through my phone, which I’d propped against the wall so I could see her while I got ready. “It’s not a truce without an orgasm to close the deal.”
“You forget.” I pressed my fingers against her nape, forcing her to look up at me. “You’re my fiancée. Not Kai’s. Not anyone else’s. I don’t give a fuck how handsome they are or what type of accent they have. You’re mine, and no one…” I dipped my head, my lips brushing hers with each word. “Touches what’s mine.”
“I’m an asshole, yet you’re dripping all over my hand.” I kept my thumb on her clit while I slipped a finger inside her. “What does that say about you?”
“If you won’t say it, I will.” I slowly withdrew both fingers, then thrust them inside her again. “It says you’re mine. Puoi negarlo quanto vuoi, ma è la verità.”
“The first hour was for trying to rob one of my stores. The second…” I held out my hand. Giulio placed something cold and heavy in my palm, his face impassive. “Is for threatening my wife.”
She wasn’t my wife yet, but she was mine. No one threatened what was mine.
“How does he look at me?” Janis smiled. “Like he never wants to look away.”
“Or I’ll place every candlestick in this house at uneven intervals and make sure your foods touch every. Single. Meal. Greta will help me. She likes me more than you.”
“I hate the idea of you touching anyone else, or anyone else touching you. I hate that other people can make you laugh in a way I can’t. I hate how I feel around you, like you’re the only person that can make me lose control when I. Don’t. Lose. Control.”
“Because you’re mine.” His teeth scored my neck. “You wear my ring. You’ve come on my face and hand. You live in my head all the fucking time, even if I don’t want you to…” His palm slid to my hip, where his fingers dug grooves into my skin. “And God, I want to punish you for driving me so damn crazy. Every. Single. Day.”
“I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.” His voice turned harsh. “You”—thrust—”are”—thrust—”my”—thrust—”wife.”
“No more scowling as your default expression. Your face is close to freezing that way, and I’d rather not wake up to the Grinch for the rest of my life.”
My head and heart waged civil war against each other and, for the first time in my life, my heart was winning.
“You can’t see the stars in New York,” Dante said. “So I brought the stars to you.”
Grumpy, brooding Dante had grown on me the past few months. But sweet, playful Dante? He was kryptonite to my heart.
But time was up. I chose vengeance over Vivian, and these were the consequences.
“Tell me what you want, Vivian. Do you want me on my knees?” Oh God.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry for hurting you…”
“For pushing you away…”
“For ever making you feel unwanted when you’re the only perso...
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“Per te aspetterei per sempre, amore mio.” “Spero non ci vorrà così tanto.”
“I speak six languages, Dante. Italian is one of them.”
“I never claimed to be virtuous, sweetheart. Sinning is more fun.”
