"Yes?"
"Thank you. For taking care of me."
Something in my chest tightened. "Always."
It was a promise I had no right to make. We'd known each other less than twenty-four hours. We'd had one scene together. But watching her fall asleep in my bed, her hair spread across my pillow, her body relaxed and trusting—I knew I was going to keep that promise. Whatever it took.
I left her sleeping and moved to my office, pulling out my phone. I had calls to make. Research to do. If I was going to propose a marriage contract to Angelina, I needed to know everything about her situation, about Vincent DeLuca, and what I was getting us both into. Because I had a feeling this was going to be a lot more complicated than either of us anticipated. But as I sat down at my desk and started making calls, I couldn't stop the smile that spread across my face.
Angelina Castellano needed a husband. Desmond Moretti needed a wife. Looked like fate had finally decided to do me a favor.
Angelina
Iwoke to darkness. For a disorienting moment, I didn't know where I was. The sheets were too soft, the bed too large, the scent beneath my nose too masculine and unfamiliar. Then it all came rushing back.
The auction. The bidding. Dez Moretti paying two hundred and fifty thousand dollars for me. Being fed while tied to a chair. Being fucked so hard I'd seen stars. Telling him about my mother's will and my impossible deadline.
Oh god!
I sat up too quickly, and my body protested. My wrists ached slightly from the restraints. My thighs were sore from being spread for so long. And between my legs… I could still feel him.
The bedroom was dim, lit only by the city lights filtering through the floor to ceiling windows. I could see the outline of the four-poster bed, the restraints hanging like promises from each post. Heat flooded through me at the memory of having them securing me in place.
A clock on the nightstand indicated I'd been asleep for over two hours.
"Dez?" I called out softly.
No answer.
I climbed out of bed on shaky legs, the black silk robe he'd wrapped me in falling open slightly. I retied it and padded barefoot across the marble floor, following the sound of voices.
I found him in what appeared to be a home office. It was all dark wood and leather and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. He sat behind a massive desk, phone pressed to his ear, and he looked every inch the powerful man he was.
"I don't care what Vitale thinks," he was saying, his voice cold and commanding in a way that sent shivers down my spine. "The territory is ours. If he has a problem with that, he can take it up with my father. Yes. Fine. Tomorrow."
He hung up and looked at me, his expression softening immediately.
"You're awake."
"You said to find you when the timer went off." I gestured vaguely back toward the bedroom. "I assume it went off at some point."
"About forty minutes ago." He stood and moved around the desk toward me. "I was about to come wake you. How do you feel?"
"Sore." I didn't see the point in lying. "But really good, actually."
"Sore where?" His hands went to my shoulders, kneading the muscles there with practiced ease.
"Everywhere." I leaned into his touch. "But especially my thighs. And... other places."
His smile was pure male satisfaction. "Good. I want you to feel me every time you move tomorrow. To miss me."
Tomorrow. When this would be over. I'd go back to my apartment and my impossible deadline and my uncle's threats, and whatever this was would just be a memory. The thought made my chest tight.
"Hey." Dez tilted my chin up, his eyes searching my face. "Where did you just go?"
"Nowhere. I'm fine."
"Liar." He kissed my forehead. "But we'll come back to that. First, dinner. You need to eat."
