Page 59 of The Virgin I Desire

I should be sorry about the burning I felt between my legs. A princess like me should remain untouched until marriage. It was wrong regardless of the person I had given myself to, whether he was Italian or not. However, I didn't feel guilty at all.

The certainty that there was no one else I wanted besides Mikhail was deep and intense. All I could think about was when I could throw myself into his arms again.

I loved the head of the Russian mafia, and I would have to make my father accept that. The alliance would be good for both.

I relived last night in my memories several times.

He didn't kneel before anyone, but he did it just to give me the pleasure of cumming. I pressed the pillow under my fingers and stretched my body, remembering the sensations.

I could spend the whole day in that bed just thinking about Mikhail and I wanted to do that, but I heard a knock on the door, and I kept sighing, until a second, firmer and more emphatic one made me jump.

“Pietra.” My father's voice sent a shiver through me.

“Hi!”

“Get ready and go downstairs.”

“Downstairs?”

“There is someone here to see you.”

“Someone?”

“Come soon!”

I heard his footsteps moving away and I didn't even have time to ask who. Suddenly the ecstasy of last night was transformed into anguish. I remembered Perla's words. If it wasn't Luca, it would be someone else, one chosen by my father.

I didn't need a bucket of cold water at that moment. I had to get more time to convince my father that there was no one better than Mikhail.

I got out of bed before the order turned into a scolding. I grabbed presentable clothes and went to the bathroom to get ready. I was hungry, but I doubted I would have time to have breakfast beforehand.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I had to think of something and for a moment I even considered pretending to be sick to avoid meeting a possible candidate, but my father wouldn't fall for it and my situation would get worse.

I saw no better alternative than confronting the guy and then thinking about how to make my father refuse in the face of a possible engagement.

I left the bathroom, left my things in the bedroom and went down the stairs.

As soon as I stepped on the last step, I looked up and saw a man with his back turned, talking to him. A leather jacket covered his shoulders, he was tall, and his hair was very blond.

I smiled when I imagined that Mikhail had understood my request and had come to talk to Marco Bellucci. If they were like that, everything would be fine. I would marry the man I wanted, and I would not lose contact with my family.

“Hey!” I sighed, a little emotional.

“Pietra?” That's when he turned around and my fantasy castle immediately collapsed.

He was a tall blond with blue eyes, but he wasn't my Russian. He had an accent that said he wasn't Italian. There were other men in the room, but I didn't notice anyone else because the shock made me freeze.

“Who are you?” I gritted my teeth.

“Pietra!” My father looked firmly at me, questioning the way I had spoken to the stranger.

“Steven Lansky,” the guy introduced himself.

“The futurecapoof the United States,” my father added.

He seemed good enough to me, but he wasn't who I wanted.

I should have waved and smiled, I was raised for that, but my eyes filled with tears, and I ran away. I went as fast as I could and locked myself in my room.

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