Page 20 of Hot-Blooded Killer

Not for one night, but forever.

I’ll make her believe I’m hers.

And then, when I’m done with her, I’ll throw her away like the Rossi garbage she really is.

So despite my raging hard-on, I let go of her ass, reach around behind my neck, and untwine her arms from around me. I hold them down at her side, softly end the kiss, and take a step back.

Gia glances up at me, her heavy-lidded eyes confused. But then she blinks several times, her vision clearing. She pulls away from me and blows out a sigh. “We can’t do that again.” She shakes her head and stands up straight, casting a rueful smile in my direction. “Not if I’m going to stick to my guns about our wedding night.”

“There’s no reason to do everything by the book—or the contract, either,” I suggest, my voice dropping to a low rumble.

She laughs, but the sound is shaky. “Oh, there’s every reason.”

On that cryptic note, she turns to head into the apartment.

I watch her hips sway as she walks away, and my cock jumps as if it wants to follow her.

Maybe she’s right.

It’s probably better if we don’t get too tangled up in each other before the wedding.

After all, the last thing I want is to actually care about her.

Not if I’m going to follow through on my plan to ruin her and return her to her father.

And I’m as determined to stick to my own plan as she is to stick to hers.

“Day after tomorrow?” I ask.

She nods. “Someplace public again?”

“It’s a surprise, but yes. The more gossip surrounding us, the better.” I wink, and she smiles as I step away and move toward the elevator.

Gino stays in the hallway, and Gia shuts the door behind herself.

I hope she’s feeling as unfulfilled as I am.

* * *

Over the next three weeks,the two of us ramp up our public appearances, making sure we’re seen at all the Vegas nightlife hot spots, always holding hands or wrapping our arms around each other.

And the longer it goes on, the more I want to pull her into a darkened corner, pin her against a wall, and take her.

Contract be damned.

To be honest, I didn’t know how Gia manages it. She goes out almost every night—and by all accounts, has been doing so for years—and also manages to carry a full load at UNLV.

“What’s your major?” I ask her at dinner one evening, back at La Sérénade for the second time. Rumor has it she’d been seeing Elio DeSantis. His family owns the restaurant, and it gives me a perverse kind of pleasure to take her there. Unfortunately for me, Elio isn’t at the restaurant this time, either.

“Business and marketing,” she says. “I decided it would be a good major if…”

Her voice trails off, and I finish her sentence silently in my head.If I were going to take over the family business.

Of course, as far as she knows, her marriage to me will destroy those ambitions.

I ignore the unspoken part of her sentence. “That’s what I majored in, too.”

“You went to school at NYU, right?”

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