Page 6 of Wedlocked

He groaned, the sound low, primal, reverberating in the air between us before he closed the gap and slammed his mouth against mine. His kiss was dominant, forceful, and my head spun as my legs turned weaker still. I should despise this man—I did despise him—yet I wanted him, too, needed him. I was as desperate for him as he was for me.

We were all but fucking, our bodies sliding slickly against each other’s when he dragged his mouth away from mine and asked thickly, “Are you clean?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “I am. Yes.” Of course I was. I’d be the unluckiest woman in existence to catch a disease when I’d slept alone in my own bed for the last twenty years.

He seemed to take it for granted that I was on some kind of contraceptive implant. But of course he’d assume that when he also assumed I was just another whore at his disposal.

“Good,” he said thickly. “I want to be bare inside you now. I want to—“

Creak.

Ethan stiffened at the soft, predatory tread behind us.

“Am I interrupting something, figlio?”

“Papà,” Ethan replied without looking back, his colorless voice empty of emotion. “As I’m sure you can see, I’m a little busy right now.”

His father chuckled, the sound making the hairs on my arms stand up even as I closed my eyes against having to see the one man on the planet I’d hoped to avoid.

The older man sighed heavily. “Just how many pussies were you planning on filling tonight? Weren’t the two blondes I ordered from the agency enough?”

Ethan inhaled sharply. “You only sent those two whores?”

My lashes crawled apart as I swallowed back rising fear. This wasn’t good. Now that Ethan knew his father hadn’t sent me here, questions would be asked. Ones I couldn’t answer. I had to stay cool, calm. A panic attack would only give me away. People like Ethan and his dad scented fear like a shark did blood.

His dad clucked his tongue. “I did. I thought two would be more than enough for a few hours.” His voice took on a proud note. “Then again, your legendary Agostino stamina is yet to slow down. Either way, I should thank you for casting those two whores aside. Our men enjoyed fucking them almost as much as I enjoyed watching them earn every cent of their overpriced bodies.”

“Another sex video to add to your collection, Papà?” Ethan asked.

“Perhaps,” he answered neutrally even as he stalked closer. “For now, I just want an eyeful of the girl who replaced our agency’s most popular girls.”

I swallowed back anxiety just as the notorious don Lorenzo Agostino came into my sight.

Though I’d never met him personally, I knew of him. He seemed to enjoy being in the papers for his various nefarious crimes. Probably because he knew his team of overpriced lawyers would find yet another loophole to get him off.

He wore what seemed to be his trademark navy Armani suit with a crisp white shirt beneath, his slicked back gray hair still thick and full on his head, his height impressive for his age. He had to be in his late sixties now, near retirement?

Lorenzo’s stare bulged when he saw me clearly, his mouth falling open. He didn’t take his eyes off me when he asked his son, “What the fuck are you doing with the Costa bitch?”

Chapter Four

Ethan

A rage unlike anything I’d felt since my brother’s death poured through me. She’d damn well tricked me!

I stared down at her with my teeth gritted behind pinched lips. That I hadn’t once asked for her name was my own idiotic mistake, not that whores tended to use their real names anyway. She’d been role-playing from the moment she’d seen me. She’d made me look like a fool! “Who are you, exactly?” I ground out.

If she was afraid for her life, she didn’t show it. She really was a consummate actress. She tilted her head back, her eyes flashing. “Sabrina. Sabrina Costa.”

Fuck!

I felt my rage expanding; so much so I swore I had an out-of-body experience where I was looking down at the scene from above. At least my emotions no longer threatened to control me. From this distance I was neutral, unbiased, even somewhat civilized.

It didn’t stop my father’s smirk of amusement. He knew I’d have to kill her now, knew it wouldn’t be something I’d savor. Not because I hadn’t killed before—I had, many times—but not because I enjoyed the kill-rush, far from it. I’d gotten my hands dirty out of duty and necessity, nothing else.

It aggravated my father no end that I didn’t extract pleasure from someone else’s nightmarish end. He hated that his children hadn’t inherited his penchant for violence. He hated even more than his eldest son, who’d been closest to him in nature, had been the one taken away from him.

My father crossed his arms and stared at Sabrina, his eyes glittering as he took in her naked perfection. “You know we’re going to have to kill you, don’t you?”

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