“It’s okay, I’ll explain to him that you were cold.” Her concerned expression gave me the comfort of having a motherly figure around me. I took the robe and set it on the counter for the moment. “Shall I make a sandwich for you,” she asked, withdrawing a long roll from the bread bin.
“It’s late, go on up to bed, I’ll do it.” Smiling, I set the plate down on a counter and accepted the roll. She opened her mouth to argue, and I shook my head. “I’m a simple girl, Rosana. While I might be imprisoned in this castle, I’m no princess and don’t plan on being one either. I can make my own sandwich.”
Sighing, she nodded and walked away then stopped to look at me over her shoulder. “You’re right,signora.” At my frown, she added, “you’re not a princess, you’re a queen. One who’ll rule wisely besideSignorSalvatore.”
I snorted a laugh but she was gone before I could speak my disgust out loud. “Yeah, more like queen of the damned,” I muttered into the silence then laughed at my situation because it was all I could do for now, until I got the lay of the land so to speak. Then I’d plot my escape.
Blowing out a raspberry, I set to work on my version of a Philadelphia sandwich, drooling at the thought of biting into the cheesesteak roll. Done, I poured a glass of milk and thought twice about taking the meal up to my room when my stomach produced another loud rumble. Grinning, I gave it a consoling rub.
“Stomach meet food.” I bit into the decadent loaf on a long-drawn-out groan. “Oh, God, that’s so good,” mumbling on a mouthful, I gave my effort a chef’s kiss then laughed at my antics. I moved to sit down and winced when my ass smarted. “Diavolo!” I growled slowly maneuvering my butt off the seat to prevent chafing the tender skin. Standing, I leaned my elbows on the marble counter, dipped a pickle into the bottle of mustard, and took a bite. Between the steak roll, pickle and milk, my stomach was in heaven.
I’d just taken the third bite of my sandwich when the uncanny feeling of being watched, settled between my shoulder blades. Suddenly jumpy, I straightened, my gaze darting to all the nooks and crannies of the darkened kitchen. Swallowing the masticated bread, I mustered a brave face and called out, “whoever you are, it’s rude watching people eat?”
“Not if they’re eating the food they vowed never to touch because I paid for it.”
A startled sound choked in my throat as Satan himself moved into the light shining from the beam above my head. At first, I only noticed those crystal-clear irises and daunting smirk framed by sleep-tousled hair that would make an ordinary man look untidy. Admittedly, on him, it was sexy as hell and a visual sin to look this good, unkempt. Then my gaze dropped, taking in his tall frame dressed only in sweatpants and a series of tattoos on both hands from wrist to pecs. Of course, he’d wear gray sweats and of course, he’d make them look so damn good. All six-foot-something of ripped muscles and chiseled perfection stared back at me.
My cheeks flamed, a white heat I could feel slowly trail in a southerly direction. Oh, God, was it possible to die of embarrassment? Wait. He’d already done that to me. Cursing my eyes for appreciating the devil when I should be remembering an angel, who although he used me, Zayne hadn’t humiliated me, I averted my gaze. I tried to focus on the sandwich I held between my fingers, trying to play it off like I hadn’t just gawked at him, but I couldn’t, not while he watched.
Until I had a chance to weigh my escape options, I had to do everything not to let him get under my skin which right now seemed like an epic failure. The crumbs on my plate became an ideal distraction while I searched my brain for something to say. “I’ll pay for it.” Really?That’s the best you can come up with. Idiot.
I could feel his gaze on me but I refused to look up. The man was unnerving, the silence even more so eventually forcing my eyes to meet his.
One dark brow lifted, a devilish gleam in the color of his irises, implicit darkness threatening to swallow me whole.Yeah right, so much for not letting him get under my skin.I could’ve sworn a hint of a smile played around his full pink lips.
Sadly, I was mistaken, his next terse words hinted as much. “How do you plan on doing that?”
My gaze dropped and I glimpsed the credit card I’d brought down with me. I reached for it and held it out. “Here. Mr. Salvatore.” I met his stare head on. “Since you gave me this to spend at will, you can charge my sandwich and milk to it.” I bit my bottom lip to keep from laughing, knowing how childish I sounded. Strangely, I didn’t care. He could whip my ass for all I cared. Wait. He’d done that already.
If he was surprised or angry at my insolence, he didn’t show it, instead, all I got was a blank stare. But I couldn’t help wondering if I’d mistaken that amused glint in his eyes. “Mr. Salvatore? Why so formal,bella? I’m to be your husband soon.”
“What should I call you then?Diavolo, Salvatore il freddo,orSalvatore il diavolohas a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” I called him cold and the devil with a cheeky arch of my brow.
“It does.” His soft response held a lot more threat than the actual connotation behind the word devil. “Especially when you have no idea what hell I’d unleash on your pussy.”
Goosebumps littered my skin at the chaotic sin those words provoked in my stunned brain. After that little show and tell on my ass, I was part scared part excited at the idea of him touching me again. Did that make me sick? A slut perhaps or just an eighteen-year-old girl with limited options at her disposal. Could I seduce him into letting me go? Judging by those intelligent eyes pinning me to my spot, I’d be an idiot to think I could seduce him into doing anything.
“You’re a wealthy, good-looking man who could probably have any woman he wants, why would you want me for your wife?” Christ, did I just compliment him?
He moved closer and I turned to face him. Leaning my hip into the counter, I had to lift my head to look up at him, every inch of me hyperaware of his proximity. His presence dwarfing the large kitchen. My pulse accelerated, on the verge of a cataclysmic downfall. Eyes narrowed, he studied me as though expecting me to cower. I didn’t. Shoulders squared, I tilted my chin in defiance until his next words.
“What makes you think being my wife will stop me from having any woman I want?”
Oh.My stomach flipped and irritation stung my flushed cheeks. Are you always this conceited, asshole? I heard the words in my head but bit my tongue and met the caustic lift of his brow, directing all the hate I could find inside me toward glaring him in the eye, aware I’d never be able to match the intimidation of his stare alone. “Does that mean I get to have any man I want then?” I blurted, my mouth speaking my mind out loud before I had a chance to mull over my words.
Unprepared for him, I yelped when his hands shot out, swung me away and I felt the countertop dig into my rear, his body flush against mine. One hand grasped my throat, fingers digging deep the other gripped my hip. The skin on my ass burned and I barely kept from reaching down to give it a rub. If he aimed to provoke fear, it wasn’t working. Not while his muscular body was pressed tight to mine, his thigh between my legs, and his lips a breath away from mine. However, if he intended to seduce me into bowing to him, he was damn close to achieving it.
Jaw clenched, those stony eyes roved over my face, the threat of something ominous, unmistakable. “Ever had your pussy smacked, little girl.” The words rolled off his tongue, liquid seduction dripping from his lips. I gulped, not even daring to imagine what that would feel like. “I have belts in all shapes and sizes to do my bidding.” His voice dropped to a husky whisper his tone dark. “If you so much as let another man look at you.”
And jackrabbit that my mouth was, I exclaimed, “I can’t control a man’s eyes.” Frustration lining my words.
“Then you’d better learn to try?” His hand dropped from my throat to cup my pussy. “If you don’t want this smacked. Although.” His eyes flashed with something wildly primal. “It makes fucking much more pleasurable and you might learn to like it.” He squeezed until I squirmed, scraping my ass cheeks against the counter.
I gasped as the pain became unbearable. “Please...”
“Please, what?” He cocked a brow.
“You’re hurting me.” I winced.
