Page 2 of His Little Spitfire

I’ve always solved all of my issues with my hands. I’ve beaten men until they were left gurgling and choking on their blood. My knuckles have been ruined over something as trivial as a disagreement amongst the men I take care of. I’ve pulled triggers on brothers who have become traitors to our family.

What in the fuck am I supposed to do about this woman? Santino thinks I can handle myself, and I can. However, how in the hell am I supposed to handle someone who isn’t afraid of me? I can’t hurt her. I can’t silence her.

Eliza’s eyes narrow on me, and for ten peaceful seconds of silence, we stare at each other. Then her jaw shifts as her teeth grind together.

Neither of us wants this. She’s too angry to see that I’m suffering as well.

Getting up, I use my grip on her wrists to pull her up. Already knowing where I’m going with this, she tries to tug herself free before I throw her over my shoulder. As of late, it’s been her way of transportation.

She’s smart, searching my waistband for my gun. Unfortunately for her, I’m smart too. Left it tucked away in my room, far away from her. However, I’m going to need to pick a new spot to hide it.

Weighing nothing, I’m hit with a wave of cinnamon as she tries to knee me in the chest. It leaves me dizzy, and I’m breathing in, much to my dismay.

It’s the same as the first time I threw her over my shoulder to get her here. The same wave that overcame me the first time she got in my face, demanding to know where Camellia was. The same scent that has everything I know flipped over.

When my cock stirs to life, I know something is wrong with me. I don’t know what in the hell this woman is doing to me, but I don’t like it. She’s stirring emotions in me like no one else ever has. There’s nothing to compare this feeling to so I can solve the issue and squash it down..

If she had a clue of what she was doing to me, I know she’d use her beauty against me. From fluttering her long eyelashes to touching me with her hands, I’m willing to bet she has an entire routine to getting her way.

That’s not to say I’d fall for her attempt to escape me, but I’m not willing to take a risk.

“Where are you taking me?” Demanding an answer, her body stills as she pants. Wearing herself out from constant movement, she’s now lying over my shoulder like a dead body.

“My–Our room,” I correct. “Might as well let you get comfortable. It’s where you’re going to be staying from this point on.”

“I am not sharing a room with you.” She spits the words like they’re an insult. “I’d rather get put in your torture chamber down below.”

Now there’s an idea. I wouldn’t mind strapping her down to a chair. First, I’d tape her mouth shut. Then, I’d happily wrap her body with ropes and tie them tight enough to make her see the truth. She’s not going anywhere.

Unfortunately, my mind does too good of a job of making my imagination come alive. I can picture the marks left on her skin and hear her muffled whimpers as she changes her mind.

I grunt, trying to clear my head before my cock risks engraving a zig-zag pattern along my entire shaft from how much it is pressing against the front of my slacks.

“If you want to keep seeing your sister, you will do as you’re told.” Hearing the way she sucks in a breath at the mention of her shared blood, I know this is a weakness for her. She may not like it, but we do have the upper hand in this. Camellia is nothing but a leash to this reckless woman. The only thing making her stay.

Thankfully, she doesn’t realize that Santino wouldn’t dare allow anything to happen to the woman he’s enamored with. He’s too fucking smitten.

“Be good, and you can keep seeing her. Once we’re married, you’ll be free to do as you please.” She can run for all I care. As long as Rocco can’t use her, that’s all I’m concerned with. Without his consent, he’s not getting much out of this. She must understand that much.

For once, she’s quiet. It’s an unsettling silence, but I’ll take it. Going back and forth with her is overly frustrating.

When we reach my room, I shove open the door and drop her onto the bed. Watching her bounce against the rumpled blankets, I notice the way the silk licks at her tanned skin. Blinking, I tear my eyes away.

My hands curl into fists as I move toward the desk against the wall. The wood groans beneath my weight as I get comfortable. Resting my back against the wall, my arms cross over my chest as I stare at her.

She sits up, glaring at me with dark eyes similar to my own. They seem darker when she’s in a foul mood. “You’re just going to sit there and watch me?”

“You think I’ll let you destroy my belongings?” I lift a brow. “Until I know you’ll be good, I’m going to do what is necessary. Thanks to you, my brother isn’t giving me any tasks. So, what’ll it be, princess? Are you going to calm down?”

From the way she prickles up, I know I’ve only stabbed the knife deeper into this wound of hers. Without a door separating us, I get to watch first-hand as the lack of fear forms behind her glare. Her anger outweighs everything else.

This is going to take far too long. My patience will continue to be pushed to its limits.

Might as well help her get everything out of her system so we can finally move on and get over this hump.

The sooner things can go back to normal, the better.

2

---