Page 55 of Arianna

No way.

I might be younger and have less experience dealing with egotistical assholes with more mood swings than suits, but I am not one of those women.

I refuse to be.

I raise my chin and push up on him, giving him as good as he gives, letting him know that this war of power he has going on is not one I plan to concede.

Never.

This can be easy, or we can tear each other apart. He needs to pick a side.

He can't be both the hero and the asshole.

This is not how it goes.

And it is as if he doesn't know himself.

Damn, you.

Sebastian chuckles before replying. “Is that it? You believe you know more than her father?”

I let his words sink in because, although I am not the child’s parent, I know firsthand what neglect in a child looks like. I not only experienced it but also witnessed it more times than I care to admit.

“I did what you or any other concerned and decent human being would have done if they were in my position.” Looking more confident than I feel inside. “The bitch let Ella cry until her eyes were red and puffy while her diaper was dirty, all the while she was texting and snapping pictures. Ex-fucking-cuse-me if I put a stop to it, and I believe the words you’re looking for are thank you.” I am and will never be sorry for how I treated the airhead nanny today. So, I stand annoyed while I witness two types of expressions take over his face.

First, sadness, concern, and then pure adulterated rage.

Shit, I did it now.

Watching the fury in his eyes makes me feel more confident and reckless.

I take great pleasure in hearing the hitch in his breath. Our lips are mere inches apart, and his scent is a combination of cleanness, freshness, and sandalwood. He is dangerous, and I am becoming addicted to how he makes me feel by barely touching me.

“Do I make you nervous, Arianna?” He states while he breathes in slowly, almost seductively.

Licking my lips unconsciously. “I should ask you the same question, Sebastian.” I don't know what makes me do it. Maybe it is the way he says my name as if I am a creature he's never come across before, yet he would rather take a knife to the eye than bow down or admit defeat in this conversation.

His mouth parts, yet no sound comes out.

His silence is just as deadly as his sharp tongue, that's for certain.

I watch intently as he licks his plump lips, and I am ashamed to admit that the sight of this man’s tongue sets me on fire. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” I notice that the more I challenge him, the wilder and feral he becomes. His control slips, as does mine.

Huh.

What a messed-up pair we are.

After a long breath of silence of him just holding on to my neck and me pressing against his chest– so close that I can feel the rapid beating of his hard and something else… something hard– he chuckles low and raspy. “You never cease to amaze me, Arianna Parisi.” I am amazed as he runs his thumb along my bottom lip. “But don’t fucking push me or play games you know you won’t win.”

The wonder in his eyes is gone, replaced by the same tiring bullshit.

Boredom.

Superiority.

Malice.

“I’m not the one playing games, Sebastian. You are.” Slapping his hand away, I show him the stubborn monster that lurks beneath my pretty surface. Peering up at him, under my long lashes, I shake my head while I free myself from his hold. “And just so happens you lost this one,” I tell him condescendingly, never breaking eye contact with him. The air between us pricks with electricity—I can feel it to my toes.

---