Page 8 of Claimed by my Stepbrother

“Dinner was nice. I enjoyed the food,” I tell him.

“I knew you would. When we have more time, I’ll take you to the coast for seafood. You do like seafood, right?”

“Yes. Your father made acqua pazza for my mother and me once.”

“Of course, he did. He’s always loved poached fish.”

We enter the main house, and I fumble about by the door. I don’t know what to do or where to go. It’s still too early for bed, but I don’t know if he’s expecting me to give him his privacy. Would it be rude to ask? I don’t want him to feel obligated to spend time with me. The mental gymnastics are becoming exhausting.

“It’s a lovely night. Should we take some wine on the patio?” he asks me.

“Oh, sure. That sounds nice,” I practically squeal and realize that I need to tone things down.

“Let’s go get a bottle, shall we?” He takes me by the hand and leads me to a rustic wood door at the corner of the kitchen. I hadn’t noticed it when I was cooking or I might have gone exploring on my own. In the brief time that I’ve been here, I’ve noticed several doors and passageways that would never exist in a typical American home.

Behind the door is a narrow, winding staircase nestled inside a pair of stone walls. He clicks the switch and electric carriage lights illuminate what feels to me like the entrance to a secret chamber. We reach the bottom of the stairs and enter a large basement area containing rows of floor-to-ceiling wood wine racks. Every slot on each one holds a bottle.

“Impressive. You must really like wine,” I say as I try to count the bottles.

“No more than anyone else, I suppose. Many of these were here when I acquired the place.”

“Did the previous owner pass away?” I wonder out loud.

“Why would you ask me that?” he asks as if I was being rude.

“I’m sorry if that seemed impolite. I just don’t understand why someone would take the time to collect all this wine and just leave it behind.”

“I see. Well, the previous owner didn’t pass away. To the best of my knowledge, he’s alive and well. He just foolishly acquired a great deal of debt that he couldn’t repay, so his home and all of his belongings were foreclosed upon, including his wine collection,” he explains.

“Oh, so you bought it at an auction or something?”

“No, sweet girl. I’m the one who called his loans. I foreclosed on his property.”

“I guess I thought banks did that, not regular people.”

“Do you consider me a regular person?” He steps a few inches closer and I lose my breath.

“I’ve never met anyone like you before,” I rasp.

“And you never will again,” he whispers in my ear, sending a shiver down the side of my neck. His lips are so close I expect him to take a bite out of me, but he lingers there, letting me feel his warm breath on my skin and the corresponding ache that he’s causing between my legs.

I turn my head and look into his eyes. He licks his lips, smiles, and pulls a bottle of wine from the rack.

“This one will do. It’s sweet just like you,” he tells me.

My legs are still shaking as I carefully navigate the narrow stairs with Giovanni following closely behind me. I can feel his eyes on me and all of my personal insecurities rush through my head and terrify me. I don’t know why I have such a strong desire for his approval, but I feel as though I need him to find me attractive.

The gardens look like something out of a fairytale, with strings of lights dancing like stars around the perimeter and gas-powered torches flanking the brick patio. The lush, green landscape is dotted with multicolored flowers and a large, circular fountain complete with a concrete maiden pouring water from a large urn. I think this is my new favorite place. I could sit here forever.

“This is beautiful,” I fawn as I imagine jumping in the fountain and spinning in circles.

“So are you,” Giovanni answers, resting his hands around my waist. He pulls me against him and sways back and forth to a tune only he can hear. “I want to kiss you, Princess.”

My heart flutters and my face reddens. This may be wrong. Maybe it’s the biggest mistake of my life, but I want it so badly that I whisper, “Then kiss me.”

In a swift motion that takes my breath away, he spins me around and gently grabs my face with his hands. He takes my lower lip into his mouth and bites down softly. He releases my lip and slides his tongue in my mouth, fireworks going off in my head.

His hands move from my face to my backside, squeezing my ass and lifting me off my feet. I can feel his manhood pressing against my thigh, and oh boy, it seems massive. I take his arousal as a sign that my insecurities have gone unnoticed by him. Just knowing that he wants me turns me on. So much.

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