Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
My eyes filled with tears. My heart already expecting the pain his game would cause me. Hating how pathetic I sounded, I sniffed. “I don’t… I don’t want to play this game. Please.”
His lips skimmed my jaw, then moved softly over mine. “Shhh, colomba mia, trust me.”
It wasn’t as if I had a choice. He had me pinned against the wall with his hips.
His fingers gently cupped the base of my skull as he moved his mouth over my skin to kiss my forehead. “I remember the fresh clean scent of your perfume as I held your body close when we swayed to the pounding drumbeat of a pizzica tarantelle.”
When I didn’t answer at first, he curled his fingers into my hair and tugged. “Me,” I rasped.
“Good girl. Round two. I remember the soft vibrations of your moan the first time I kissed you. Even then I was struck by your innocent response.”
This time when I didn’t answer right away, he pressed his hips into mine, further emphasizing the threat of his hard cock.
“Me,” I squeaked.
He ran the tip of his tongue between the seam of my lips. “How about the moment I pushed my fingers into your tight pussy as we watched those two men fucking that woman in front of the bonfire? Do you remember that, babygirl? Do you remember how you trembled in my arms as you stared in wide-eyed fascination?”
My fingers splayed wide as I pushed against his warm, naked chest and tried to turn my head to the side. “Please, I don’t want to play this game.”
His voice took on a dark, sharp edge as all gentleness fled. He yanked on my hair, forcing my head back and my chest forward against his. “What’s the matter? Can’t handle the truth, that no matter what I called you, I knew the woman in my arms. I knew the taste of your skin. The weight of your breast against my palm. Even the cluster of freckles between your shoulder blades in the shape of a crescent moon.”
I tried to pull away as salty tears stung my cheeks. “Please, don’t say any more.”
This wasn’t fair.
Ruthlessly, he continued. “You think it matters that I called you Antonia when I stared into your eyes and saw the hope and longing last night after I said you were safe with me? You think that moment was any less real? I know the hell your father has put you through.”
Using his grip, he swung me away from the wall and pushed me back several steps as he shoved both hands into my hair, holding me by the neck. “I know about the empty ache inside your chest from growing up without a mother’s love. Always feeling as if you’ve been deprived of some essential human experience. Always knowing you’ll never truly be whole.”
Oh God, did he know about my mother?
About my fears?
Had he truly seen through this entire facade the whole time and guessed my motives for going along with it?
He leaned his forehead against mine. “I can make you whole, Ella.”
Tears blurred my vision. “It’s too late. It’s too complicated. This whole thing is a mess. There’s nothing you can do to fix it. I’ll go home to my father. I’ll convince him to give you your money back.”
With a curse, he released me and paced away before turning back. “I don’t give a damn about the money. I care about you. You think your father’s just going to welcome you back with open arms?”
He was right. I couldn’t go home. My father saw my sister and me as commodities. Once the scandal broke of why Antonia’s engagement to the powerful Cavalieri family ended, both of us would be ruined. My father would think of us as useless trash, just like my mother.
I ran my hands over my arms as a shiver ran down my spine. For years, my mother’s ghost had called out to me as I imagined her in a lonely, unmarked grave. The irony that my efforts to find her would see me share the same fate was too cruel to contemplate.
“What happens to me is none of your concern.”
His jaw clenched as he narrowed his gaze on me. “What did you just say to me?” he growled.
My resolve faltered, but that didn’t change the truth. Backing up a step, I whispered, “It’s out of your control.”
Matteo cupped his right fist in his left hand and cracked his knuckles. “No, little one. It’s not.”
Beg. Plead. Tell him you’re sorry. Tell him it wasn’t your idea. Scream. Run.
The competing impulses crashed into my brain.
“What are you going to do?”
“What I should have done when I first suspected it was you who had come beautifully undone in my arms that night on my boat, and not Antonia.”
CHAPTER 30
MATTEO
There was no goddamn way I was sending her back to her father.