Page 75 of Eden's Deliverance

“Was that fun for you?” I snap, making no attempt to hide the immature scowl on my face.

“Sì.”

He offers nothing more—just one word and a smile so evil, it makes me sick.

He’s just another one ofthem.

“Perfect. Thanks for your time, asshole.” I practically throw myself from the car, slamming the door shut as I march down the pavement and up the porch steps.

I can’t get my fucking key to fit inside the lock because I’m crying so hard, and it’s only made worse when I hear Dario approach my backside.

“Get away from me,” I bite out. He doesn’t say a word, allowing me the courtesy to cross the threshold before following behind. I spin on my heel, ready to break his nose if he comes any closer. “What the fuck do you want?”

This arrogant prick takes a step anyway, thrusting his hand against the door before I can shut it in his face. “You have been too sweet. You promised to show me mydiavolina…” With every step he takes forward, I match him in the opposite direction. He creeps nearer, eyes glued to my mouth as he swings the door shut with a softclick.“Now here she is.”

It’s true; I did imply there was something worth experiencing if he came home with me. It’s the whole reason we ended up in that predicament with Skylar last week. But I don’t want to think about him anymore. Dario is here—healthy, horny, and waiting for me to show him who I really am. Penelope’s away at Eden’s Deliverance, so we’re completely alone.

“So what are you waiting for?” I taunt, planting my hands on my hips. I didn’t care much for the edge-sesh back there, so now it’s his turn to make things up to me. I’ll keep my end of the bargain later.

The malicious grin from the car makes a reappearance, spreading wide across his lips as he stomps toward me. I brace for impact, partially shocked when he ducks down to wrap an arm around the back of my knees before lifting me over his shoulder.

An involuntary squeal turns into a giggle fit as he carries me upstairs to my room with the help of some clumsy guidance. We land together on the bed and rip at each other’s clothing, peeling off as many layers as possible in record time. When I reach for the buttons on his shirt, he grabs my wrists and pushes them to the mattress on either side of my head, keeping me held there while he kisses me.

I’m into it for a second—but just a second—before I grow frustrated. I refuse to fuck another man who won’t let me see their body. I’m not going to be the only one on display.

Luckily, he isn’t holding me prisoner and lets me reach for his shirt again, moving his attention to my neck as I undo the buttons. My god, I can feel themuscles on his abdomen before I’ve got the fabric separated. With my palms laid flat on his chest, I push him back until he’s kneeling before me.

Taking in the full sight of him, I make note of his tan skin, washboard abs trailing down to a patch of hair above his groin, his nose, the dark coils sprouting from his head, and the way they fall against his brow.

It all feels too familiar, and I can’t shake this one thought I keep having.

All he’s missing is a white mask.

28

Scarlett

“Dario…” The panic starts to set, but I remain as calm as possible, scooting back on the bed as I search his eyes for the truth. “This isn’t the first time we’ve done this, is it?”

He runs his fingers through his hair to clear it from his face, looking down at me with remorse. “Are you angry,diavolina?”

I slide from beneath him and spring off the bed, rushing to press my back against the nearest wall. “Shouldn’t I be? What the hell is going on?!” This cannot be happening. I haven’t seen The Prince since New Year’s Eve, and that didn’t end well. But how could he know where I live? Eden is a half-hour drive from here. When he doesn’t answer me, I threaten, “You have 30 seconds to explain yourself before I call the police.”

To prove I’m not bluffing, I dig my phone from the bottom of my purse and dial three crucial numbers, showing him the screen as a warning.

Dario turns to face me, scooting to the edge of the bed to sit with his feet planted on the ground, hands on his knees. He doesn’t look at me when he speaks, just hangs his head in shame.

“It’s fucked up, I know.” His American accent is flawless, and the final puzzle fragment of The Prince clicks into place. “At the Halloween party, I snuck a look at your phone when you had the Uber app open. I swear,bellezza, I’m not trying to scare you. I saw your name and the town you were going to, and I just had to see you again.”

Okay, so the accent was fake—at least partly. That’s strike two.

I’m fucking blown away. It’s probably not as invasive as Casanova and Broody rooting through my diary, but it’s a close second. “Seriously, a fake accent? Are you even from Italy?” I ask. It’s definitely not the thing I should be focused on, but I’m fighting a panic attack here.

He laughs nervously. “I am. I’ve just been here long enough that my American accent comes naturally. It’s no secret that foreign accents attract American women,bellezza. I don’t like to rely on it at the club,” he explains.

“But you wanted to use it on me at the bar.” It’s not a question. He made the decision to mask his voice from the one that I knew. He was deceiving me on purpose. “That you stalked me to, by the way.”

He looks up for a moment, dropping his head again once he sees my defensive stance. At some point, I removed myself from the wall and stopped cowering—now fully engaged in bitch-mode.

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