Page 28 of Beautiful Devil

Feeling like I’ve been violated, I try to push him off of me in my anger but it's no use. It’s like trying to move a brick wall: impossible. He doesn't even flinch. Ugh.

Changing tactics, I lift my right foot up and kick him in the shin with all my strength. Feeling satisfied with myself hearing him grunt, I lift my leg to repeat the action when he catches it.

I look down to where his big, strong, tattooed hand holds my leg in the air. His long fingers flex over my calf, sending a rush of heat up my entire leg. My breathing picks up as I get a whiff of his woodsy scent. He smells like cinnamon with a hint of cedarwood. He smells good enough to eat, and I have to stop myself from leaning into him and licking his neck to find out for myself if he tastes just as good.

Realizing he isn't moving, I lift my head up and look directly into his eyes. There are so many emotions swimming in his eyes that I can't decipher, but one that I’m almost positive I can.

Desire.

Another shiver runs through me, but this time it's not out of fear. I find myself wanting him to lean down and close the gap to kiss me.

His fingers flex once more and his head tilts down. His eyes are on me the entire time and right at the last minute, he turns his head, but not before a smirk crosses his face, letting me know he’s aware of what he’s doing and that he’s gotten to me.

His stubble rubs against my cheek and his breath is hot in my ear as he speaks in a low, husky voice. “Careful,gattina. You don’t want to wake the beast. You’ll find that my bark isnotworse than my bite.”

Pulling back, he lets go of my leg and takes a step back to put some much-needed space between us.

With a slightly clearer head, I replay what he said and ask him, “Why do you keep calling me that? What does it even mean? You called me that last night too.”

Chastising myself for even asking, I internally shake my head. My answer is one of his sexy as hell smirks that I’m starting to hate, which tells me that I won’t like the answer.

Trying another question that I hope he’ll answer, I ask, “How do you know my name and why are you following me?”

His face instantly falls and the energy in the room has changed to one so cold you'd think we were in Antarctica.

Hmm, interesting. Why does the mention of my name put him in such a sour mood?

His eyes darken to molten as he stares daggers at me, clenching his fists so hard they to turn white. His jaw ticks while his teeth are so tightly clenched I think he might actually break a tooth. The amount of pure hatred that he spits at me, however, I was not expecting.

“Maybe you should ask yourhusbandthat question.”

There is so much venom in that sentence, I visibly flinch. But what he said catches me completely off guard. Not only because he called him my husband, but that he even knows Gallo to begin with.

Still shocked, I say, “Gallo? What does Gallo have to do with this? And for your information, he's myex-husband.”

I put more bite into that last part than I intend to, but I can't help it. My anger is taking over at the mention of Gallo, and before he can answer, I find myself speaking again.

“In case you didn’t realize, myex-husbandis in jail, where he belongs. So whatever beef you have with him, take it up with him when he gets out. If you thought you could get to him by kidnapping me and hurting me, I’m sorry to tell you that it won’t do a damn thing. That asshole doesn’t care about me and probably never did, so you would be doing it all in vain. The only thing Gallo cares about is himself.”

I’m so worked up, I’m shaking. Tears are brimming in my eyes, and I don’t even realize I’m standing in front of him with my finger on his chest. We both look down at the same time at said finger, and as I go to pull it away, he moves quickly, holding it firmly in his grasp.

“What did I tell you,gattina? Don’t. Poke. The. Beast. You will not like what happens when he’s unleashed.”

He lets go of my hand, and once again causes me to miss the rush of heat that comes from his skin. What is wrong with me? It must be whatever he used to drug me with. That’s the only reasonable explanation. As I contemplate that more, I realize he knows who I am and about Gallo, but I still don’t know who he is.

Voicing my thoughts aloud, I ask him once again with genuine curiosity, “Who are you?”

He turns around and starts walking to the door, giving me a view of his muscular back, showing every muscle working with every step he takes, in his tight fitted dress pants…

Focus, Gia. Kidnapper, remember?

Still ogling his ass, I’m caught off guard when he opens the door and stops, not bothering to turn around as he says, “Next time you speak to your husband, make sure you ask him about Fabrizio Moretti.”

And with that, he exists the room, slamming the door behind him.

At that, I yell back, “He’s my EX-HUSBAND, you jackass! And stop calling megattina.”

I nearly miss the sound of a key in the lock. Springing into action, I run as fast as I can and try to open the door to discover what I already knew to be true: it’s locked.

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