Page 75 of Ruthless King
Clara shakes her head at me. “Don’t even think about cancelling, Luca. You must attend the gala. You have a special table reserved with the mayor, remember?”
Shit.
Now I really have to find a way for Stella to forgive me. I need her at my side at the event tonight. As I stalk out of my office, I try to convince myself that’s all I need her for.
* * *
Stella
I swallow down a bite of the meatball sub Magda made just for me and force a smile even though the hoagie melts to ash on my tongue. Just like everything else the sweet girl has made for me in the past week. She insists I’ve lost weight, and I have to eat to keep up my strength. For what though?
What do I need strength for? To wallow around the house in my pjs?
I am such astronza. I knew having sex with Luca would ruin me. Why didn’t I listen to my head instead of my lusty pussy?
At least before, my captivity had been going decent enough. We’d fallen into an easy routine, and damn, I hated to admit it, but I was happy here. The playful banter, the wicked stares, the occasional flirtation,DioI’d cherished those moments. Because obviously I’ve got a screw loose. Maybe it was one too many drunken slaps from my father. He’d broken something.
But it was nothing like the utter desolation I feel now. If my father had broken me, Luca had begun to mend the frayed edges only to rip apart my fragile insides once more.
I’d completely fallen for the ruthless mob boss, the cold C.E.O., and the fiery man beneath the icy surface.
Stronza.
I take another small bite as Magda’s watchful gaze slants over me. Throughout my three weeks here, I’ve grown to like the girl, but I am also entirely aware she gives Luca a full report of my daily activities. I’d caught her spilling every single detail only two nights ago when I eavesdropped outside Luca’s office door. I don’t blame her obviously, but I also know I can’t trust her. Not really.
The elevator dings, and the doors glide open across the great room. Luca’s dark form fills the opening, deep lines carving into his jaw and somehow sharpening his beautiful features.
All the air vanishes from the room.
Shit. What is he doing home so early? He hasn’t been back before dinner this entire week. I snatch my plate from the marble island and slide off the barstool. Keeping my eyes pinned to the remainders of my sub, I attempt to dart past him.
“Stop,” he growls.
Ignoring him, I only quicken my stride.
“Stella!” He reaches for me, and if it weren’t for that damned meatball sub, I would’ve been able to dodge his grasp. But Magda had slaved over the meatballs all morning, and the idea of them splattering across the floor has guilt spearing my chest. I’m such a sucker. His firm fingers close around my upper arm, and he spins me toward him.
“Let go of me,” I hiss.
Dark eyes blazing, he glares down at me. “No.” His fingers tighten, and I let out a squeal.
“You’re hurting me,bastardo.”
“Good.” Rage flashes across those bottomless orbs. “I want you to know how I’ve felt for days.”
I vaguely notice Magda scampering out of the kitchen as he uncurls my fingers from the plate with his free hand.
“What are you doing with my lunch?” I cry.
“You can’t eat that in the bedroom. You’ll drop it on the rug and that tomato sauce will never come out.” He drags his hand through his hair, his expression so enraged it’s almost comical. I’ve never seen anyone so angry about a non-existent, future stain.
“Fine, then I won’t eat.” I attempt to wriggle free of his hold, but his fingers only constrict another inch.
He drags me back to the kitchen and places the plate on the island once again, then clasps his hands around my hips and pops me back up onto the barstool. “Hey!” I squeal as his fingers dig into the bare skin peeking between my pajama top and bottom. They linger there for an endless moment, and the fire in his eyes morphs to something raw and much more deadly.
I don’t dare breathe as he pins me with that menacing glare. His fingers sear into my flesh, branding me with each haggard breath.
Finally, he squeezes his eyes shut, and I’m released from those piercing midnight orbs. He draws in a breath and his hands fall away. “Eat,” he mutters, taking a step back.
