“Hush,paperotta.We wouldn’t want your daddy to scold you again, would we?”
She stills.Her ragged breaths puff from her nostrils, warming the back of my hand.I push her head back and meet her eyes.
For the briefest of moments, relief flashes across her features and she sags against the wall, but when she drops her guard, my muscles flatten her curves and her breasts pillow against my front.My cock hardens and prods her soft stomach.
An addictive mix of fear and fury fills her bottomless blue orbs before she schools her reaction and blinks up at me with vulnerable eyes.
Her duplicity pisses me off.
“What is it now, Valentina?Your father reprimanded you, so you’re going to lash out and use me to get back at him?”
Her brows scrunch, but no matter how genuine her confusion looks, I won’t fall for it.I dip my head so my lips brush against her temple.
“If that’s the case, why didn’t you wear my gift?You might have swayed me if you’d played along a little,” I taunt.
She shakes her head as much as my grip allows.I chuckle at how helpless she must feel.My hand easily covers the entire bottom half of her face.
Sharp pain spears into my palm.I hiss and pull my hand away from her sharp little teeth.
“Whatever happened between you and my father has nothing to do with me.Hurting me won’t hurt him,” she spits with such conviction I pause and study her.
The plea makes no sense.She’s the entire reason Pietro stabbed me in the back and left me for dead, and without her, his business would fail.She’s the driving force behind his success.
My incredulity gives way to amusement, and I decide to play along and see where she’s trying to go with this.
“Oh?Then what do you suggest?”I can’t hide the mockery from my tone.She swallows and glances around, whether to gather courage or appear uncertain, I don’t care.“What’s the best way to hurt daddy dearest?”I goad.
“I… I’ll choose you,” she stammers.
I press her harder against the wall and wrap my hand around her throat.
“What do you mean bychoose, little girl?”I snarl.
“Whatever you want it to mean, so long as you promise not to hurt me.”
The little tremor at the end of her sentence is so well done I can’t help but marvel at her skill even as disgust rips through me.She’d sacrifice her father to save her own skin.
“What if I want to hurt you,paperotta?”I snarl.
The slender column of her throat shifts against my palm as she swallows.I rub my thumb over her jugular, enjoying the leap of her pulse.
“I… what kind of hurt?”she whispers.
Stunned into silence at the raw emotion stacked in her tone and expression, I doubt myself for the first time since my best friend sunk his blade into my back a decade ago.
My rage returns tenfold when I realize I nearly let her dig her talons into my soul.
I tighten my fist around her throat, lift her onto her toes, grab her breast, and grind my cock against her softness.
“I’ll have you begging me to stop, but I won’t.You’ll be at my mercy, but I have none.I’ll only grow more savage with every bite and scratch you leave on my flesh,” I vow.
Her nipple pebbles against my palm and her entire body trembles against mine.
“But you’ll take me away from my father?”she asks.
Her response is too perfect.Too contrived.Too preposterous.
I drop her and step back as though she has the plague.She falls to the ground with a squeak and a thump.
