Page 47 of Her Overprotective Fiance

"If you want to make a point,signora,then just fuc—-"

"Youknowwhat buttons to push if you truly want to see Giancarlo lose his temper with you. But you do not do it. You waste your time pushing all the wrong buttons butneverhave you attempted to push the right one. Perhaps it's time you should ask yourself why?"

It's been years since I got served like this, and it still feels shitty like it always has.

"Good night,bambina."

She executes her grand exit with perfection, withLa Stregapromptly turning around, and the door to her room slamming shut on my face before I can even think of a single word in rebuttal.

La Strega - 1000, Sarica - 0.

What the hell is up with this night?

Whether someone is younger or older, it doesn't seem to fucking matter.

Why does everyone suddenly seem wiser than I am, and why do they all sound like they know something I don't?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I stomp into my suite and slam my own door shut, but my anger shows no signs of abating.

Fuck!

My gaze falls on the minibar in the corner.

Ha!

It's my chance to proveLa Stregawrong, and I open my first can of beer.

Pushing the right button in three, two, one...

Fucked

THE WORST HANGOVERin history isn't even my biggest problem when I open my eyes.

Rather, it's the tall, dark, and handsome gentleman standing by the balcony doors, and because I've always believed Giancarlo has invisible eyes at the back of his head—-

I'm not even surprised when he turns to face me as soon as my eyes have opened.

The old witch wins again.

Even when I knew she was baiting me last night, I still fell for it. I've pushed the right buttons once and for all, and now I have Giancarlo's immediate and undivided attention.

"How are you feeling?"

The mildness of his tone alone is terrifying, and I don't even want to think of how helooksor I might just end up wetting the bed. He's still gorgeous like always, but the gentleness I've become used to - and admittedly take for granted - is completely gone. All that's left is a mask made of steel, and it makes me feel the Giancarlo in front of me is a complete stranger.

"Any headache?"

I nod, and he gestures toward the bedside table. "Drink that."

I obey without hesitation and nearly choke. Whateverthisis tastes like shit, but no fucking way am I going to complain about it.

"Give it a few minutes," he murmurs.

I nod again. Any kind of reprieve is good news, and maybe if I'm lucky, my headache will last for hours.

Maybe.

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