Page 16 of Bianchi

“Have you had those women dress me up like one of your favorite sex dolls?” I accuse. “You might be forcing me to go along with your plan, Mr. Bianchi, but there’s not a chance in hell I’ll be giving you anything in return. At least not willingly.” I fold my arms under my bust. The sweetheart neckline of the dress barely contains my breasts, and when it hits me that I’m giving some very mixed signals, I drop my arms to my side.

Romeo huffs out a laugh as he prowls toward me. I take a step back, then curse myself when I hit the window ledge. Staring at him down my nose, I close the distance between us, determined to show him that I’m unaffected by him, even if it’s not true.

My voice comes out strong and sure, despite the uncertainty and anguish swirling in the depths of my gut. “As much as you might try to scare me, it’s not working.” I clench my fists at my sides to hide the trembling that contradicts my words.

A darkness has been hovering over my existence for too long and I’m ready to face it now. For months, I’ve been trying to keep my head above the water and… I’m tired. The day Romeo walked into my apartment, the possibility of everything ending became a reality and I’ll keep holding on to that hope until I take my last breath.

Romeo runs a finger down my cheek, keeping his voice soft when he says, “I have no doubt, cucciola. Cristo, even though you know what I am capable of, you still test me at every fucking turn.”

Inspecting my nails, I try to convey an air of boredom, as if my entire body isn’t alight at his touch. My voice sounds gravelly, but I don’t clear it for fear that he might see through the front I’m putting up. “If you were going to go through with your threats, I’d be dead already. I’m just trying to figure out how much more I need to push you before you finally do it. I’m tired of this cat and mouse game you seem intent on playing.”

His hand darts to my hair, grabbing hold of the strands at the back of my head. The sting at the base of my skull has my eyes watering in a matter of seconds, and I blink rapidly in an effort to keep my reaction hidden from him. Romeo pulls harder, the force making my back arch, pressing my body into his, and I fight against the urge to melt into him. His tongue lazily rolls across his bottom lip. The words to implore him for a taste are begging to be spoken, but I dare not utter them. Instead, I bite down on the inside of my cheek, the metallic tang of blood filling my mouth.

“Aurora.” So much is said in the way he murmurs my name. Most of it is in direct contrast to the aggressive way he’s holding my hair. A small part of me wants to believe that maybe he’s as affected by me as I am by him, but I know that can’t be true. His fingers ease up before he releases me and moves his hand to my throat. Dark eyes dare me to protest. “If you behave, you just might make it out of here with your life. But if you keep acting out, I’ll have you begging for death, while I force you to watch the life drain out of the eyes of the person you love the most.”

I huff out a laugh and roll my eyes, still pushing him. “Then the joke’s on you, Romeo, because you can’t kill a dead person.”

With a heavy sigh, he shakes his head and releases me before he walks away. He comes to a stop in front of the door, his annoyance clear in his tone when he says, “This is becoming tiresome, Aurora. I only have so much patience and you're testing it at every turn.”

I call after him, “Just end it, Romeo. I won’t be any help in luring my father out, because he doesn’t care for me how you want him to. The sooner you get that, the sooner you can move on to a different plan.”

He looks back at me over his shoulder. The air between us is stifling, but neither of us wants to give in. We’re at a stalemate. Shaking his head, Romeo replies, “Come, we’re going to be late.”

I guess we’re still going to take the pictures then.

Chapter 10

Romeo

Aurora’s parting shot plays on my mind. Even now, an hour later, her words are plaguing me. I’m not a man who tends to second-guess his decisions, but she’s so goddamn adamant her father won’t come. I guess time will tell which one of us is right. And if I’m wrong, then I’ll have no issue tying up the loose ends and killing her.

After arriving at the helipad, Daniele scanned the cars for any GPS trackers. They came up clear and we’ve circled the block twice. The SUV rolls to a stop at the curb outside the restaurant. Massimo came through with this reservation. The place is a hive of activity, with a barrage of paparazzi camped out front waiting to take pictures of the rich and famous.

I guess for the right price, anyone can make the front page.

My hand reaches for the door handle and I instruct Daniele, “Find somewhere to wait, or grab some food. We’ll be here for a couple of hours to make sure the message gets out there.”

His eyes meet mine and he nods. “Yes, boss.”

I step out onto the sidewalk, the quiet of the car replaced by the sounds of the city as I button my jacket. On my periphery, I catch two of our men climbing from the car behind us and taking up residence on the sidewalk. Camera bulbs flash and my name is called out as I turn to offer Aurora my hand. There’s no mistaking the fire in her eyes, and I raise my brows. My warning is clear: make a scene and you’ll regret it.

With anyone else, my threats would have been enough. But with Aurora? Well, she’s shown a clear lack of caring about what happens to her. I’ve never had someone so willing to die that they push me to pull the trigger.

Aurora huffs out a breath before delicate fingers slide into my palm—the warmth and softness has my chest puffing out as a strange surge of protectiveness shoots through my veins.

Her black hair falls forward, partially hiding her face as she climbs from the car. When she has one foot on the sidewalk, I tug her toward me. She falls into my chest, her hand instinctively resting there between us as she finds her balance. Jasmine assaults my senses, and for a brief moment, I wonder how she still smells so good.

From the outside, the moment must look intimate and it feeds the press the scoop we planned. What I don’t expect is the dart of lust that shoots to my gut, driving me to imagine what her full, slightly parted lips would feel like if I dipped my head and stole a taste.

For half a second, I wonder if kidnapping her was such a good idea. She’s a temptress. A siren, calling to men in a way that she’s seemingly oblivious to. But there’s not a doubt in my mind that she could drown a man in her allure. Cristo. When I walked into the room earlier and saw her in that dress, I was seconds away from bending her over the back of the couch and fucking her senseless.

Click. Click. Click.

“Who’s the lucky lady, Mr. Bianchi?”

Click. Click. Click.

“Can we get a kiss?”

---