Page 76 of Where Dark Hearts Devour
I spin around to follow Sandrine’s gaze and immediately wish I hadn’t.
“Castellano . . .”
My heart trips over itself as Cristiano Di Santo roars his way toward me. My instinctive reflex is to put my hands up—ifnot to surrender, then certainly to slow him down so he won’t humiliate me in front of my friends.
But he’s not getting the hint, and he’s not slowing down.
I start to back away, but it’s too late. He reaches me too quickly, bends forward, wraps an arm around the back of my thighs, and hoists me over his shoulder.
Everything is a blur when he turns sharply and strides back the way he came. Gasps follow us out of the house like little gusts of wind.
As soon as the cool night air kisses my skin I come to my senses.
“Put. Me.Down!” I scream, but it’s breathless.
When he doesn’t even acknowledge me or break his stride, I beat his back with my fists. The hits are small and insignificant, but I keep at it. I once read somewhere that if you think you’re too small to make a difference, you’ve never shared a room with a mosquito. Well, I’m determined to be one hell of a mosquito.
If only my fists would leave just a fraction of a mark on him ...
I lift my head to see people flooding out of the house to gawp at me being hauled out to the street upside down. I’m so mortified it burns.
Behind me a car door opens, and then I’m floating through the air, only to land with a humiliating thud in the passenger seat of Cristiano’s car.
The second he lets go of me, I grab the door and push it hard in a vain attempt to escape. In response he drags the seat belt across my body, the back of his hand brushing against my breasts, and fastens me in tightly. When I try to release it, he whips off his tie and yanks my hands above my head, and with more speed than my half-drunk brain can handle, he ties my wrists together behind the headrest of my seat.
I wriggle uselessly even as the passenger door slams shut.
Cristiano walks calmly around the front of the car and slides in beside me without so much as a glance.
“You can’t keep me tied up,” I say, practically spitting. “It’s unsafe.”
“Not as unsafe as you trying to shove open the door while I’m driving down the freeway,” he answers smoothly.
My chest expands and contracts as I pant with frustration, and I’m mortified further by the fact with each breath I take, my breasts are pushed out brazenly.
“I’m not comfortable,” I huff.
“You should have thought about that before you put up a fight.”
He starts the engine and pulls serenely out onto the street.
My chest rumbles with frustration. “Where are we going?”
“Back to my apartment. You clearly can’t be trusted to stay in the house alone.”
My awareness darkens. “How did you know where to find me?”
“It’s amazing what the promise of a new car and a few personal days can get you, especially from those who have nothing to bargain with.”
Lorna.
Guilt quietens me. “Please don’t punish her.”
He chuckles darkly. I pan my glare out the window.
“Why were you at the house?” I snap.
“I was checking on you.”
