Page 16 of Dark Mafia Vows

“Or with that snappy mouth of yours... But I’m not at all interested in immature kids who’ve just reached puberty. No matter how hard you try or how good you are, my answer will always be no. My taste is far better than wannabe politician’s side piece.”

My words hang in the air, heavy with intent, and I watch her, relishing the way she reacts. Her face goes pale for a heartbeat before it flushes a deep crimson. Her eyes, a mixture of anger and arousal, glare at me.

Then, before I can anticipate her next move, her hand lands across my cheek.

7

GINEVRA

Ashocked gasp leaves my lips, my hand stinging from the hard contact with his face. I can’t believe I just slapped him. I’ve never hit anyone in my life, but this man seems to bring out the worst in me.

I’m seething, my breaths coming in sharp, rapid bursts. My chest heaves, but I try to steady myself so he doesn’t see the effect he has on me.

Ugh! The nerve of this arrogant bastard.

I hate his ridiculously handsome face, his mocking smirk. I loathe how his green eyes hold amusement and mischief rather than anger as I challenge him. I hate that my words have no effect on him, that his eyes glint in satisfaction at my distress. I hate that this is all a joke to him. While my family suffers because of his actions, he gets to live happily and flaunt his stupid money everywhere.

I hate that he makes me feel weak, stupid, and powerless. And like a common whore.

My hands twitch, ready for another strike. How dare he insinuate that I want to...fuck! I can’t even bear to think about it.

I make the mistake of looking at his face before I swing again. His green eyes have darkened dangerously into a striking emerald shade. Anger simmers beneath them, swirling like a storm. His jaw ticks, threatening to give him away, but then he tries to hide it beneath that infuriating smirk of his.

“Oh, Feisty,” he chuckles, closing the space between our bodies.

His gaze sweeps over me, sending a chill down my spine. He’s so close I can count his lashes that are a little too long for a man, smell his expensive cologne, and feel his breath ghost against my skin as he speaks.

“Do it again, Ginny. Hit me again,” he murmurs, the heat of his body radiating through the little space between us. “I. Dare. You,” he adds lowly.

Damn it. That’s hot.

And I hate it.

I hate it being told what to do, but what I hate more is the stupid smirk I want to wipe off his lips.

I raise my hand to hit him again, but this time around, he’s faster. One large hand grabs my wrist firmly, twists my hand behind me, and the next thing I know, he’s spun me around, pressing my front against the cold surface of Lorenzo’s car.

“Did you really think I’d let you hit me again?” he asks, his voice deep and rough, vibrating along the length of my body.

His front presses against my back, and I can feel that he’s built like a tank. Through the layers of clothing—my thin dress and his plain, black shirt—I feel every ridge and dip of muscle. I feel every hard line that separates us. I feel the thud of his heartbeat against my spine, and my knees go weak. It feels wrong, like everything I should never touch. Yet so right.

“Let me go,” I demand. I need some distance from him to regain control and to remember the reason why I was angry in the first place.

He does the opposite, tightening his grip ever so slightly against me.

“Are you that brave, or are you just fucking stupid?” he whispers hoarsely against my ear. “When a man two times your size dares you to do something, what makes you think you can do it and get away with it?”

I blow out a frustrated breath and grit my teeth before struggling against his strong hold.

“I said let me go, asshole,” I ground out, but it’s all pointless. His body is flush against mine.

Still, I don’t relent. I try to twist and turn in an attempt to break free.

“Careful, Ginny.” His rough stubble brushes my cheek as he whispers. “You’re turning me on.”

That’s when I feel it, his undeniable hardness pressed against my ass. My body heats up at the realization, and a pleasant shiver rolls down my spine.

I remind myself that I hate him. That he’s the reason why our family business is on the verge of bankruptcy. That he’s the enemy.

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