Page 56

“No.” Her eyes narrow and she snatches it, shoving it on her finger. It fits perfectly.

“It suits you.”

“It’s like a prison uniform,” she snaps. “Let’s go.”

Most women would melt over such a large, perfect rock. Not Heaven. And for some reason I prefer this reaction to one of melting, simpering oohs and aahs over a piece of expensive jewelry.

“Oh.” She looks at me, her hand on the doorknob. “Don’t think you’re getting laid any time soon. Unless of course, you’re into rape.”

I smile. “Is that a challenge?”

“A statement.”

“As I said, you’ll be begging. Maybe not tonight, but soon.”

Heaven laughs as she pulls the door open and the music and noise from the bar rushes in.

“Soon? I don’t think so. I hope your hands don’t cramp up,” she says, stepping into the hall. “Because they’re gonna be working really hard for a long time.”

“Heaven?”

She stops but doesn’t look at me.

“We’re not finished tonight. Not by a long shot.”

And then she walks away, leaving me staring after her.

For the first time, I wonder what the fuck I’ve gotten myself into with her.

Whatever it is, for as long as it lasts, I realize I’m looking forward to it.

Pity she won’t make it through alive.

CHAPTER12

HEAVEN

When the gorgeous asshole, the devil himself, said we’re not finished tonight, I didn’t think he meant an engagement party.

He even bought a dress for me. And it fits perfectly. I don’t want to wear it. The soft forest green dress with matching heels is both impossibly old-fashioned and modern, and I hate it.

I feel like a lamb on display for sale or for slaughter, I don’t know which. There are small players from different families here. A smart move because it’s not in your face. It’s not a statement on Matteo’s behalf to the rest of the underworld.

They’ll know this for what it is, but they’ll see it more low-grade, as a business match. Him moving more center stage in New York.

He’s smart, I’ll give him that. And I think I hate him more for it. The damn rock on my finger is heavy, a constant reminder I’ve become his property. The ring is my own personal ball and chain, a tie to a man I detest.

A man who can touch me and make me burn with unwanted desire.

My head is woozy from too much champagne, which is the problem, nothing more. I can knock back whiskey like a sailor but give me a flute of bubbly and you’ll be scraping me off the floor.

“Amore mio,” Matteo says, coming up to me and sliding an arm around my waist.

I want nothing more than to slap him away, except right now his strength is calming.

I must be drunker than I thought.

“Let go of me,” I say through a smile.