Page 3 of Sins of the Son

After I placed the suitcases by the door I went in search of a piece of paper and pen.

I knew if I called or texted Amara, she would race over and try to change my mind.

Worse, Barone would find out, which meant Cesare would find out.

And then they’d both get all over-the-top bossy about how staying in Cavalieri under their protection was for my own good, and how I was like a sister to Amara and therefore family now, blah, blah, blah.

Nope. No way. Not buying it.

I had vowed long ago never to let a man in my life, and I freaking meant it.

And that vow especially applied to Cesare Cavalieri.

I scrawled a quick note telling Amara not to worry, that I was fine, and that I would call her when I settled somewhere.

Snatching a handled basket from under the sink, I filled it with some fresh figs, a loaf of bread, some cheese, three bottles of wine, a bottle opener, a jar of plum preserves, and a bottle of sparking water.

After one last look around the cottage, I grabbed my purse and opened the front door.

Cesare was standing on the threshold.

His dark gaze swept from my face to the suitcases and back.

His brow lowered as his eyes narrowed. “Going somewhere?”

CHAPTER 2

CESARE

She backed away. “What are you doing here?”

I stepped inside, closed the door behind me, and leaned against it. “I’m here to finish our… conversation.”

She clutched a basket filled with wine and food before her like a shield. “There’s nothing to finish.”

I looked around the brightly lit cottage, then down at the suitcases near the door. I inhaled slowly, trying to rein in the primal demons clawing inside my chest. There wasn’t a chance in hell I was letting her leave. Whatever I had done that had pissed her off back when we were in school was in the past. I was a boy then. I’m a man now, an impatient one.

And I was fucking done waiting.

Milana had always been meant for me.

I knew it back then, and I knew it now.

No other woman came close to her.

She was the only one I wanted.

And as far as I was concerned, she was already mine.

If I were one of my male Cavalieri ancestors, the solution would be to simply carry her into the bedroom, spread her legs, and fuck her until she submitted to my will.

If she pushed what little patience I had left, that might still be the solution.

I reached between us, grasped the handle to the basket, and pulled. She resisted. I pulled harder. She wisely relented. I set the basket aside. “You see, that is where you’re wrong.” I stepped closer.

She backed away, placing a wooden spindle chair between us. She clutched the high back so tightly her knuckles were white. Despite her obvious tension, she faced me defiantly. With one elegant eyebrow arched high, she asked, “How many times does a woman have to tell you she hates you before you believe her, Cesare?”

I leaned on the back of the nearby sofa and crossed my arms over my chest, studying her. She really was magnificent. A fiery mixture of spirit, elegance, sass, and intelligence. My cock hardened as I imagined for the millionth time what it would be like harnessing that explosive mix of passions in bed. I’d probably have to restrain her just to get the upper hand. The idea had a great deal of appeal.

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