Page 50 of Masked Hearts

“Perfect,” she says as she lets the last piece of hair she straightened fall down my back.

I haven’t straightened my hair in so long, that I’ve forgotten just how long it is. It also reminds me I need to go have my hair trimmed.

Suddenly, my eyes are burning into every imperfection, from my cellulite that’s a bit more visible to the way my dress hugs my figure just a bit too tightly for it to still be considered flattering.

“You look great. C’mon, it’s already seven.” She hurries me to my feet and hands me a few pieces of jewellery.

“Thank you so much for all your help, Eleanor.” I turn to face her, and she stares at me with a broad smile.

“It’s my pleasure, now c’mon. I want to see his reaction.”

Eleanor and I hurry down the stairs—well, we head down as fast as my stilettos will allow me. When we reach the bottom, Antonio is leaning against the kitchen island, and my air nearly lodges in my throat.

He’s in a plain black suit with a white shirt that’s unbuttoned, and he has his glasses on. A part of me still wonders if they’re real or just for the aesthetics.

He does a double-take between his phone and me as he looks up. “Where are your curls?”

“What? I-I uh, straightened it,” I stutter out, taken back by his question.

His eyes trail over me, and they linger on my legs for a fraction longer than they probably should.

“Are you ready to go?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says, eyes still raking along my body.

“Let me just get my things upstairs, my driver is here as well,” Eleanor says as she dashes upstairs.

Antonio slips his phone and hands into his pockets as he walks closer to me. His eyes survey the dress one more time. This time, his face is a void of expression.

“You look nice,” I blurt out. I don’t know whether it’s the nerves or his proximity that makes me say it, but when I do, I want to turn and run away.

His mouth tilts up at the side. “Hmm, thank you,tesoro,” he says, moving even closer until he’s right in front of my face, thanks to my heels. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack in this dress?”

My eyes widen, and I watch as his pupils dilate as he looks into my eyes. “You better hope everyone at the dinner tonight knows not to stare, or their blood will be on your pretty little hands.”

He backs up just as Eleanor enters the kitchen.

Suddenly, I’m more stressed about my choices for this evening. I can’t believe I let Eleanor talk me into this. He lets her exit first and then places his hand on the small of my back, letting it rest there the entire time until we’re in the car. It’s then that I realise he isn’t driving, but instead, we’re both at the back. Together. Where his hand is now resting very heavily on my thigh. And it will be for the next thirty minutes until we’re at the restaurant.

Chapter seventeen

Antonio

Irestapossessivehandon Theresa’s thigh the entire car ride into Nice. Every fibre in my body has been telling me to claim her since she stepped out in this fucking dress, and I’ve had to stifle the urge to tell her father to get fucked so that I could stay home and peel it off of her.

Every time I’ve seen purple since our little vibrator experiment, my pants have grown tighter. So of course, her choosing to wear the smallest fucking dress known to man inpurpleis pure and utter torture.

I haven’t been able to get the image of her eyes scrunched up as she came all over my hand, or the sounds of her sweet moans, and especially not her taste when I licked my fingers the second I got out of the room out of my mind.

I was borderline insane at that moment, and that’s the reason I had to get her as far away from me as possible. I was, and still am, terrified of what I might do if I happened to get her in a situation even remotely similar, because I don’t think I could control myself now that I’ve seen and heard all of that.

I can feel her squirm and shift every few seconds under my grip, and it makes me feel better to know that by the time we reach the restaurant, she will be just as flustered as I am. But I want more; I want to know just how far I can push her before she’s begging me to do something. Before she loses her mind as much as I am.

That’s when I decide exactly what I’ll be focusing on throughout this stupid dinner that we’re both being forced to attend.

When the car does eventually arrive at the restaurant, the tension at the back of the car feels suffocating, and I’m on the verge of overheating. The warm, summer air only makes it worse as I step out of the car and turn to offer a hand to Theresa. As she allows me to help her step out, I purposely pull her so that she crashes into my chest.

“Don’t fall for me just yet,tesoro.”

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