Page 50 of Massimo

His thumb caresses along my jawline. "You'll tell me, princess?"

I nod. I'll tell him this, at least. Not because I trust him, but to stop a man from being killed because of me.

Massimo seems to have morphed into a seer, as if he can read my thoughts. Without breaking eye contact with me, he speaks to Gabe. "I want the security footage reviewed to verify Damien or anyone else hasn't hurt her."

"Of course, Mass."

"I'm sorry," I whisper to the guard, whose face is bloody and already starting to bruise, but he's shockingly composed.

"Nova." Massimo's hands fall on my hips with a possessive grip, as if he can't stand my attention on another man.

My heart races, but not from fear.

Is my bodyreallyresponding to his touch right now?

Questioning my sanity and all my life's choices, I turn back to Massimo. "Your guard didn't hurt me."

That intense heat in his eyes is back—the one when I had been in his arms, and we both humped me against his thick shaft until I climaxed. In the short span of time since waking, I'm flipping between fear and lust so much that my head spins.

My world tilts as a wave of dizziness assaults me, and Massimo catches me against him.

"You need to eat," he growls.

Then he scoops me up and carries me down the hall. I don't fight him. I can't escape him with his strength; but truth be told, I don't want to. It’s insane that this is my current reality, but having Massimo Santoro take care of me is quickly becoming a weakness.

A set of mahogany double doors catches my eye from across the hallway. As we pass, I study the carved pattern: a shield divided into four quadrants, each depicting a symbol—a tree with deep roots, interlocking rings, a rose entwined with what looks like olive branches, and a lion's head.

"That's my bedroom," he says. "The carving is my family's crest."

As he looks down at me, warmth spreads through me, and I need to turn away his overwhelming presence and effect on me.

"I can walk," I weakly protest as we descend the stairs to the frontfoyer

"I like you like this."

"What? Helpless?" I bite my lip to silence myself, once again struck by how incredibly open and free I am with Massimo.

A smile blooms on his mouth.

I want that beautiful mouth on my skin.

Warmth rushes through me, both at the intensity of his look and my thoughts.

"No, princess. Having you in my arms…" He licks his lips, and my gaze snaps to his tongue and glistening lips. "I don't think I'll ever get too much of having you in my arms."

I look away from him again, torn between the intense urge to believe him and the lessons that warn me he's trying to deceive me.

Massimo walks across the marble floor through the foyer that opens to a series of arched doorways and heads toward one that is bright and cheery. The house is beautifully decorated with fresh flowers in vases everywhere. With its expensive art and décor, it is opulent without being tacky or flashy—elegant,just like the man carrying me.

Luxury and lavish surroundings aren't new to me, and I quickly notice what's missing: the people it takes to operate and maintain a home like this.

He steps into the brightly lit room with two large windows, divided into smaller panes by a grid of inner frames and ivy creeping up the edges. Through the glass, I catch a glimpse of a garden maze.

At the back of the room is a set of French doors leading to another space, and Massimo steps through them. In this smaller room, the windows are the same style and uncovered, letting the sunlight flood in. A walnut table sits at the center, topped with a pale yellow linen runner. I tilt my head back, taking it all in, feeling relaxed peace—something I shouldn't be feeling—settle over me.

Massimo pulls out the chair at the head of the table, then shifts me in his arms, settling me onto his lap.

"What are you doing?" I ask with a shaky breath when he grips my hips to keep me positioned on him.

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