Page 52 of Sinister Intentions

As if sensing my stare, Vince glanced up, his expression unreadable, before he glared at me. Then he rose to his feet and strode toward the door, Picca cradled against his chest.

“Let’s go,” he stated matter-of-factly, not giving me attention whatsoever as he held Picca with one hand while using the other to retrieve a leash from a nearby hook. He just assumed I would do what he told me to…again.

I didn’t move and stared at him. Was he for real? Did he think just because he ordered me to, I would follow him? “I’d rather not.”

He stopped, turned, sat down Picca, marched back, and was right in my face.

Back to furious.

This man had mood swings akin to me when I was hungry.

“Are you sure you want to make a big deal out of this, as well?” he asked, his voice a low growl, his eyes cold and hard, holding mine.

I swallowed. For a second, I’d forgotten how infuriatingly intimidating he could be. Not that I would ever willingly show him the kind of impact he had on me. I straightened my spine, steeled myself against the impact he had on me, and stepped even closer. “I’m sure.”

Suddenly, he grinned. Only, it wasn’t really a grin. Well, maybe if a shark could grin, it would look like that—right before said shark would take a bite. “I knew you were a brat, Punk.” He took another step.

His front touched mine, and he was back to towering over me again. My first instinct was to move back, but I fought hard. Give this man an inch, and he will steamroll you completely. That was the one thing that I was certain of.

“Lucky for you, I have some experience in the area”—he lowered his voice even more, suddenly sounding almost sensual—“and even luckier for you, I find brats quite endearing.” He let his gaze roam from my eyes to my lips, then slowly lower along my neck and to my breasts.

His hot gaze was like a physical touch, and my skin broke out in goose bumps—all over. My mind flashed back to the way helooked at me when I watched him in the shower. Hot, languid, so fucking sexy, with a challenge sparkling in his eyes.

Come closer if you dare, they seemed to say.

And I felt a quiver in my belly. Fear or desire? Not that it mattered.

Shit. I was not equipped to handle sexy, sensual Vince Salvini.

At least not face-to-face with zero distance between us.

I took a step back. “I’m not…I don’t, I…I?—”

“You what?” He slung his arm around me, pulled me against him. “You really think I’m someone who you can dick around, little girl?”

Well…if I was completely honest, for a split second, I’d entertained the thought that doing something that involved his dick would’ve been nice. But in reality…I was not ready for that. Not when it came to Vince Salvini’s dick. “I’m coming, okay? Picca needs her walk after all.”

He held my gaze and didn’t let go.

My heart suddenly beat faster. “You win, okay? You can let go now.”

He raised a single eyebrow.

Was he truly contemplating not letting me go? Somehow, that prospect got me freaking out all of a sudden. “Would you please let go?” I said, my voice suddenly hoarse and airy.

He hesitated, then released me, turned around, scooped up Picca, and laughed when she weaseled her way toward his face and licked his nose.

I grabbed my ball cap and hurried after them, my mind still reeling from the cognitive dissonance of dealing with what had just happened.

Again, he went from intense to this playful ritual within a second. How did he switch between ruthless and endearing so seamlessly? Split personality?

Vince Salvini was maddening.

I followed Vince and Picca but hung back while I took a good look around the apartment on my way out. I should’ve checked it out when he was in the shower instead of checking him out.

The living room was sleek and modern, with clean lines and a minimalist aesthetic. But the kitchen looked well-used, with pots and pans neatly arranged, surprising me. I wouldn’t have pegged Vince Salvini as the domestic type. Wouldn’t have thought he cooked for himself either, but I would bet money he valued privacy over the comfort of having a cook.

“Move it, Punk,” Vince called out, already standing by the private elevator. I quickened my pace, eager to get this bizarre situation over with.

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