“Guess your brother is the same,” I shrugged, and she glowered, knowing she lost that one.
The elevator doors opened directly into my penthouse, and I gently pushed her forward into the foyer. She stumbled slightly, probably because of those ridiculous heels she was wearing, and I automatically reached out to steady her. She jerked away from my touch like I'd burned her.
“Don't touch me,” she warned.
I raised my hands in mock surrender. “As you wish.” I gestured around us. “Welcome to your new home.”
She barely glanced at my penthouse, her eyes automatically darting to the front door.
“Don't bother,” I said, reading her thoughts.
She whirled on me, her face flushed with anger. “So, I'm a prisoner?”
“Well, yes,” I deadpan.
“You’re nuts, you know that? Someone should lock you up.”
“Well, they haven’t, and you’re here now,” I replied simply. “So you might as well make yourself comfortable.”
Without warning, she sprinted past me for the front door, her hand reaching for the panel beside it. I was there in an instant, catching her around the waist and pulling her back against my chest.
“Let me go!” she yelled, struggling against my grip.
“Not a chance,” I said, my voice low in her ear. “You're not going anywhere.”
She went still for a moment, and I could feel her rapid heartbeat where my arm wrapped around her. Then she stomped her heel directly onto my foot.
“Son of a bitch!” I released her, hopping back.
She took advantage of my momentary distraction to make another dash for the door, frantically pressing buttons on the panel.
“It won't work,” I said through gritted teeth, the pain in my foot sharpening my irritation. “You need a fingerprint and a six-digit code.”
“Open this door right now,” she demanded, facing me.
“No.”
“I swear to God, Gastone, if you don't let me out of here—”
“You'll what?” I stepped closer, towering over her. “What exactly do you think you're going to do?”
She lifted her chin. “I'll make your life a living hell.”
“Oh, I have no doubt,” I said. “But your family trained me well enough to deal with hell.”
“Oh, poor baby,” she mocked. “Did someone hurt your feelings? Is that why you're acting like a complete psychopath?”
I leaned in until we were almost nose to nose. “Careful, Elena. You're pushing your luck.”
“And you're pushing my patience, you overgrown, tantrum-throwing, dictatorial man-child.”
Her words were like matches, igniting something dangerous inside me. The alcohol from earlier was wearing off, leaving me with a dull headache and a shorter fuse than usual.
“Are you done?” I asked quietly.
“Not even close, you self-serving, vengeful jerk. You think this hurts my brother? All this does is prove what kind of coward you really are.”
“Coward?” I repeated, feeling my control slipping.
