I nod, bracing myself, my hands gripping the sheets as he steadies my foot.The tweezers pinch, a sharp tug that makes me suck in a sharp breath.
He works quickly, extracting the shard, then presses a gauze pad to staunch the blood.
The sting fades to a dull ache as he cleans the wound.
Then, when he’s satisfied, he places a bandage on the wound.
When he’s done, he looks at me.
I refuse to thank him.After all, it’s his fault I’m in this mess to begin with.If he hadn’t abducted me, I’d be at home, sleeping in my bed after enjoying an evening with my friends.
After he’s done, he stands once more, looming over me, arms folded.
Despite reassuring myself that I’m not scared of this man, my heart thunders.
“Because I’m a generous man, I’m going to give you two choices, Valentina.”
I scowl.“Two choices?”
“Of where our marriage will take place.”
ChapterSix
Valentina
About where our marriage will take place?
Dante’s words hang between us, heavy and unyielding.
His body is an imposing wall of muscle and menace as he continues to tower over me, arms crossed, his dark eyes locked on mine like a predator assessing its catch.
My foot throbs where the bandage presses against the fresh wound, a sharp reminder of his unexpected tenderness moments ago, but now that flicker of humanity is gone, replaced by the cold calculation of the man who abducted me.
Two choices.As if he’s bestowing some grand favor when all he’s doing is tightening the noose around my neck.
I shift on the bed.
The movement sends a fresh jolt through my arch, but I refuse to let him see the wince.
My heart somehow manages to accelerate into a wild rhythm that echoes in my ears, each beat fueling the fire of defiance burning in my chest.
I won’t cower, won’t let him see how much his words rattle me.
“How generous of you, Moretti.”I struggle to hold my voice steady against the tremor threatening to creep in.I lift my chin, meeting his gaze head-on, feeling the weight of his stare like fingers tracing my skin.“And here I thought you’d just drag me to whatever altar suits your twisted plans.”
His lips twitch.
It’s not quite a smile.It’s more a promise of the storm to come.
He uncrosses his arms and moves in closer until his knees brush the edge of the mattress.
The heat from his body radiates toward me.
My pulse quickens, not just from anger but from the way his presence fills the space, making the room feel smaller, the air harder to draw in.
He reaches out, slow and deliberate, his fingers grazing my jaw.Then he captures my chin and tilts my face up.
There are calluses on his thumb and fingers, at odds with his polished exterior, reminding me of exactly who he is.
