The Italian Billionaire’s Abandoned Wife Read Online Marian Tee

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
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Can’t you be still just once, heart?

I placed one trembling hand in his and let Marcus gently draw me out. I had a fleeting glimpse of paparazzi behind him as I got to my feet. But then Marcus stepped into my line of vision and he was once again everything all I could see.

“Ciao, bambina.” A wicked little gleam in his dark eyes accompanied the softly spoken words, and I suddenly had a premonition.

Oh no. Oh crap. He was planning to do something again—-

He lowered his head, and I automatically turned my cheek towards him even as my toes curled hard inside my kitten heels. But then I felt him cup for my chin, and my brows furrowed as Marcus turned my face towards him.

“I don’t under—-”

His lips covered mine.

Oh.

The kiss was over before it began, but it was more than enough, and when he pulled away I could only gaze at him, speechless, lightheaded, and even more shaken than before. What was that?

Marcus’ hand, which hadn’t released my fingers all this time, tugged me towards him. He led, and I followed, always ending up like a docile little lamb in his presence. We walked past paparazzi, all of them still taking photos and throwing us questions, and I automatically lowered my head to avoid their gazes.

Lowering his head to me, Marcus asked softly, “Are you ashamed to be seen with me?”

My head jerked up. “Of course not!” And then I caught sight of his grin and realized he had just been teasing. “Marcus!”

His nostrils flared.

Oh.

The look of raw desire in his face made my entire body tremble, and I found myself mute with helpless desire.

“It’s been too long,” he muttered roughly under his breath, and his fingers released its grip on my hand. A second later his arm slowly curled around me, his fingers tightening around my waist.

He squeezed my waist hard, his touch burning my skin and leaving an undeniable, wordless message for my body to absorb.

I want to fuck you.

I’m going to fuck you.

I won’t stop fucking you until we both pass out.

It was the most unbelievable promise, and my limbs became wooden in shock as we entered his building.

Marcus glanced at me, surprised. “Why are you marching?”

I looked down at my legs, aghast.

I was marching!

He had me so flustered by his – by his intentions over a merger – that I had ended up marching without even knowing it. In the corner of my eye, I saw Marcus’ broad shoulders rocking with silent laughter, and I lifted my chin up in the air even as my face burned.

Crap. Just...crap.

As soon as we entered the elevator, Marcus didn’t bother hiding his laughter. “What was that about?”

I ignored him, or at least I tried to, but then he pulled me towards him, asking, “Was it because I made you nervous?”

My lip curled, but he only grinned. “No?” He pushed me against the wall, purring, “How about aroused then?”

He ground his body harder against mine, and I gasped. “Marcus—-”

His eyes glittered.

Crap.

Marcus’ head lowered.

“Anyone could come in,” I hissed.

“I know.” And his head kept lowering. “And that’s half the fun.” His breath fanned my skin. “Isn’t it?”

Oh...yes. Crap. I meant oh...no.

My eyes drifted closed.

But nothing happened.

I heard the elevator chime upon arriving at the penthouse floor, and when I opened my eyes, Marcus was pulling away from me with a grin.

Oh!

He moved away, and while still plastered against the wall, I found myself staring at his entire executive staff, all of them waiting in attention outside the elevator.

Crap.

I automatically straightened and flashed them a polite smile. “Buongiorno.” I tried to keep my hand from shaking as I tucked my hair behind my ears.

“Everyone, I’m sure you don’t need any introductions to Anneke de Konigh, DKE’s vice-president.”

His staff greeted me formally, and I nodded and smiled, pretending I didn’t notice the curious looks on their faces.

Marcus took my hand. “Andiamo, bambina.” He led me to his office, located at the end of the hall, and as he closed the door behind us I gazed at my surroundings, more than a little surprised. I had expected manly and earthy tones from him, probably because of his Italian descent, but instead Marcus’ office was a mixture of futuristic and minimalist, with shiny white walls blending with glass, leather, and stainless steel furniture.

“Please have a seat, bambina.” His gaze followed my every move, and when I settled on one of the large swivel chairs in front of his massive frameless table, he drawled, “I can see the appearance of my office surprises you.”

“Just a bit,” I admitted. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t find it lovely. Because it is.” I paused. “And it makes sense, when I think about it.”

Marcus dealt me a thoughtful look. “How so?”

Because you compartmentalize things, I thought. Marcus Ravelli was such a complex and private man that he seemed to have divided his life into these little boxes, and each box was different and so were the people who could access it.


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