Page 72 of Marriage of Revenge

This is just another act in a performance I never chose to star in.

And tonight?

Tonight the curtain rises on my new reality.

CHAPTER 37—ANTONIO

When she enters mysuite, something shifts in the air - like the moment before lightning strikes. Her simple yoga pants and blouse cling to curves I want to map with teeth and tongue, and that hint of fear in her eyes only feeds the hunger building in my gut.

I let her stand there, let the silence stretch until she starts to fidget. Until that mask of calm she wears so well begins to crack. "Sit." My voice carries command wrapped in promise.

She perches on the edge of my chair like she's ready to bolt, all that dancer's grace wound tight as wire. Good. Let her feel unstable. Let her remember who holds the power now.

"So, are you going to tell me what you have planned now? Or at least what happened to you?" I tilt my head, watching her pulse flutter at her throat. "Or lie to me again?" My fingers trace a path up her arm, and her sharp inhale feeds something primal in me.

"What if I don't want to tell you?" Her hand finds my forearm, electricity arcing between us. "What are you going to do?" Thatchallenge in her voice - fucking hell, it shouldn't make me want her more.

"Not scared of me, Bell'cenda?"

"I'm terrified." But her voice stays steady, and she doesn't back down even with me crowding her space. Something like respect tries to surface - I shove it down hard. "Terrified for Naomi. For tonight." When I step back, trying to escape her gravity, she adds softly: "Terrified you forgot who you were."

"Don't." The word rips from my throat like smoke. "You lost the right to talk about who I was. The Beast is what's left. The Antonio you knew?" I turn, making her look at the ruin of my face. "He burned away with my skin. These scars? They're just the surface. The real damage runs deeper than flesh. My dreams aren't piano keys and perfect notes anymore. They're revenge written in blood. You made sure of that."

I expect her to flinch, to offer pretty lies wrapped in apology. Instead, she meets my gaze like a challenge.

Every look from her hits where I used to have a heart. Every accidental touch ignites something I thought I'd burned away.

Part of me wants to drag her close, claim her mouth, forget about revenge and just take what burns between us. But the Beast knows better. The Beast remembers betrayal.

"Damn it, Isabella." Her name tastes like poison on my tongue. "Why do you make this so fucking difficult?" Desire wars with vengeance, leaving me raw.

"I make this difficult?" Fire flashes in her eyes. "I'm here because you bought me like property. I'm here with our wedding blood still fresh, wearing clothes you picked, following your rules in your fortress. And I make things hard?" Her laugh carries edges sharp as broken dreams. "Stop smiling at me like that."

But I can't. Because angry? She's fucking magnificent.

To hell with dinner. With revenge. With every carefully crafted plan. The need to taste her drowns out everything but the pound of blood in my veins. I want to hear my name break on her lips, want to feel her come apart under my hands. Want to bury myself so deep inside her that she forgets everything but who she belongs to now.

For one heartbeat, the Beast wars with whatever's left of the man who used to play piano for her. Then I stop thinking and just take.

My hands frame her face like I'm about to break something precious. She tastes like mint and surrender and deadly promises - fucking intoxicating. Her fingers twist in my shirt like she's trying to anchor herself against a storm, but she doesn't just submit. No, my little ballerina gives as good as she gets, matching every demand of my mouth with her own hunger.

I control this dance, but the way she yields - eager and willing and so goddamn perfect - it does something to me I didn't plan for. Her arms slide around me, pulling our bodies flush, and fuck me, the soft sound she makes when I bite her lip sends fire straight to my cock. The moan that vibrates against my tongue promises everything I want to take.

Everything she shouldn't want to give.

Everything that could destroy us both.

I force myself back, but every inch between us feels like warfare. Like the Beast is trying to claw its way through my skin to claim what's mine.

What if this is just another performance? Her father's daughter playing her part perfectly?

But fuck if that thought can stop my body from wanting. My cock throbs against my zipper, every pulse a reminder of how easily I could take her right here. Pin her against that glass door overlooking the Mediterranean, let moon and waves witness how thoroughly I own her. Could lose ourselves in somethingthat burns hotter than revenge, or maybe find new ways to destroy each other.

Her breath comes quick, fingers touching lips I just claimed. "Why bid on me?" The question hangs between us like smoke. "You could have hurt him other ways. What does this give you?"

"I ask the questions here." My fingers find that scar on her throat again, the one I don't remember. "What the fuck happened to you, Bell'cenda?"

Because somewhere between flames and now, someone else marked what's mine.

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