Page 26 of Arianna

“Men like you always win, no?”

“I don’t know about other men, but I know myself. Yes, I win. Every time.” I lean back and keep my eyes trained on her. Christ, she is stunning. Even more so with the daggers, she is throwing my way. She is not a fan of mine. I am heartbroken. “Want to know the secret to never losing, darling?”

“Not really.” She mumbles while inspecting her nails. Brat. Fight me, kid. It will make this easier. “But I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

Chuckling, I let her in on a little secret. The one my father, told me countless times when I was younger. “If you make the right moves and learn to control your pawns…you’ll never lose. No matter how skilled your opponent is.” Her eyes leave her nails and hold my eyes captive.

Calculating.

Curious.

Thrilling.

I see all of it in those cold depths of hers.

Something energetic runs through me, unsettling me. How can someone so cold make me feel anything but just by looking my way? Then something happens. Something I was not expecting just yet. Her curious eyes leave mine and focus on my mouth.

That sobers me up.

I have been attracted to challenges since I was a child, and this girl, in a matter of minutes, has proven to be the most enticing one.

She is a puzzle, and for a moment there, I find myself desiring to crack it.

Silence falls between us as we stare at each other, lost in the moment.

Fuck.

What is she doing to me?

Then she opens that pretty but vindictive mouth of hers and stuns me. “I’m not fucking you.” Her voice doesn’t tremble, nor does her stare waver from mine. Oh, what a treat you are, Arianna Luna Parisi.

A worthy opponent.

I haven’t encountered many quite like her.

How ironic I have found a dangerous one in an eighteen-year-old girl.

Wanting out of whatever spell the pretty princess put on me, I snap out of it. Remembering her age. Remembering what she represents.

My greatest failure.

“Lucky for you, princess, little girls don’t do it for me. I like for my women to be older and…” I make a show of looking her up and down and lying through my goddamn teeth. “More experienced.”

Her nostrils flare, but her beautiful face remains void of all emotion.

I am fascinated.

Yesterday, that statement would have been the honest-to-God-truth, but after meeting her and experiencing her fight and courageousness firsthand, I must admit that I have never been more turned on in my life, and that messes with my head.

Which I cannot allow.

Her emerald eyes stare holes through me, but she remains silent. Like a beautiful doll used to handling cocky assholes like me.

That pisses me off more.

Because despite my feelings towards the past and how this girl fits in it, I cannot help but look at her and be reminded of my father.

My mother.

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