She nods her head nervously. Stammering, she says, “Of course, Mr. Maroni. Is there a limit?”
“No limit,” I answer for him.
A beat of pause before she glosses over me and asks him once more, “A limit, Mr. Maroni?”
His fingers bite into my flesh but I secretly relish the pain.
He cocks his head unnervingly to the side as he stares at her frigidly. “You heard her correctly, Carolyn.” Pulling out his wallet he then takes out his black Amex card and hands it over to her. “I trust you’ll listen to Ms. Murphy and not question her.”
She swallows. The card trembles in her hand before she steadies herself. Her bright and wide smile returns except this time it’s directed towards me. “If you would please follow me, Ms. Murphy.”
Before I can follow her Rico holds me in his grasp by my hips. My pulse kicks as my stomach flutters. His breath is warm by my ear as he reminds me lowly, “If you try to run I will catch you.”
I turn my head to the side and our lips become achingly close. “Should we test that theory?”
“I caught you once, gazzella, I’ll catch you again.”
“So confident,” I muse. I wiggle my ass against him and he stiffens. “What makes you think you’ll catch me again?”
His fingers bury themselves so deep in my hips that they feel embedded there. “I’ll always catch you. Remember that.”
When he releases me I feel the cold absence of his touch. Part of me wants to feel the warmth of him once more. I purge the thought and immediately feel the shame of even thinking it.
But there’s a hum running through my veins as Carolyn assists me through picking out my wardrobe. A damn spark within me that cannot be denied. And it charges as I every so often catch his eyes on me.
There’s something between us, something tethering us. And I fear it will be both of our ruins.
CHAPTER 21
Rico
Ishould be putting my time to better use.
Instead my eyes haven’t left her once.
I could easily chalk my hyper vigilance up to the fact of making sure she doesn’t try to sneak away while attending the dressing room.
Except that’s not it.
I can not even lie to myself.
There’s something utterly hypnotizing about her. The way she moves ensnares you. The soft sway of her hips. How her fingers gently caress the fabric of clothing. When she gathers her hair to peer over her shoulder to see how the dress accentuates her back. Every single move of her interests me.
She catches eyes with me again, purposely doing a turn around to show me the entirety of the dress. Or shall I say lack of. There’s hardly any fabric. It boggles me how something so little costs so much.
Yet seeing her in the plum haltered backless dress I understand why the scrap of fabric is worth thousands. To be fair it should be priced higher since it touched her flesh.
Our eyes break when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I answer on the first ring knowing it’s not Pietro. “Gino,” I say in my own way of hello.
“We have a problem.”
I sit upright, turning my back on Imogen to not be distracted and listen intently. “Speak.”
“Despite you ignoring Pietro, which he’s pretty upset about by the way. Can’t get a fucking word in edgewise without him telling me how the bromance between you two has died.”
I expel a long breath. I’m not even talking to the fucker and I’m already feeling the beginning of a headache. “There was never a bromance or whatever the fuck that entails.”
“He’s throwing a fucking funeral in honor of it, Rico.”
