Page 43 of Caruso
“Firstly… ” I reach for the bottle of wine nestling in the ice bucket. “I don’t give a shit about the fabric on the seat. If anything, I welcome the stain.”
“Oh, God.” Her face is on fire as I smirk, splashing the wine into her glass, knowing she will hate having to drink anything but water.
“And secondly, there is no part of you, inside or out,that doesn’t belong here. This is your home now, so get used to it.”
“My home?” Her eyes widen and I nod, pointing to the glass as I hold mine toward her. As she raises it, I smile as the glasses clash together. “Welcome to your new life, Taylor. Try not to set this one ablaze.”
Her shoulders relax, and a smile dances across her luscious lips as she chuckles. “I can’t promise anything.”
“I wouldn’t want you to.”
I take a sip of the expensive wine and disguise my smile as she screws her face up in disgust as she samples the demon drink.
“You’ll get used to it.”
“Why is that necessary when water is better for you and free?”
“Because I want you to have the best, baby girl, and water has its place in that, but the finest wines, spirits and champagne are an acquired taste that you will learn to love.”
“Like you, I’m guessing.”
She raises her eyes, and my hand stills in midair.
“What do you mean by that?”
She shrugs. “If this is my home, Matteo, I’m guessing you have come to a decision. Am I to be your prisoner—your sex slave if you like, or your equal?”
“Interesting question.”
I take a sip of wine and note she follows my lead, and I could stare at her lips all night long as they drag against the crystal glass.
“Do you want to be our equal, Taylor?”
“Of course. I already am.”
“And how do you conclude that?”
“Because we are both human. That is enough.”
“So your stepfather, do you consider him your equal?”
She shivers with revulsion.
“He never earned that right.”
“But you have earned the right to be our equal?”
“Haven’t I?”
I picture the way she stood defiantly in front of her stepfather as she sent him to hell. The way she faced off against my brothers, manipulating them with her words, rather than playing the usual seductive temptress we meet. I love how she killed a man for attempting to take something from her she valued and the way she kneeled at my feet with the declaration it was everything she wanted.
“No, Taylor, you are not our equal.”
The light dims in her eyes, and I reach out and pinch her chin between my fingers, forcing her to look at me as I whisper, “We are not yours. It is up to us to prove our worth now.”
I’m surprised when tears mist her eyes and her lower lip trembles. A lone tear escapes that I wipe away with my thumb and whisper, “Why are you sad?”
“I’m not.” She sniffs and smiles shyly. “I’m grateful, Matteo. For your help, your kindness and your guidance. I appreciate you, and I just want you to know that.”
