One second I’m falling, the next my front is pressed to the wall beside the staircase, his body caging me in from behind.
His hand slides into my hair, brushing it away from my face while I drag in panicked breaths. “Take a second to calm down.”
Nope. Not happening.
Now that he’s removed the vest, I feel the heat pouring off him through the white dress shirt that’s stretched over his muscled chest, and when his mouth presses to my temple, something inside me weakens in the worst possible way.
What chance do I stand against this man?
He’s a criminal with no conscience, a mafia boss who kills, coerces, and manipulates everything around him.
“Shh…” Adriano presses his forehead against my hair, his breath warm on my ear and throat. “I give you my word, I won’t hurt you.” His arm tightens around my waist like a warning wrapped in comfort. “Calm down for me,mia piccola farfalla.”
My breathing slows down, and I swipe my tongue over my dry lips. Once my chest stops heaving, Adriano eases his hold on me. As he steps back, I stay plastered against the wall while slowly turning around.
“Go toourbedroom,” he orders. “I’ll bring your suitcase so you can change into something more comfortable.”
He takes the rest of the stairs down, and when he disappears into the short hallway that leads to the living room, I let out a harsh breath and press my hand to my racing heart.
Shit. What the hell am I going to do?
Lifting the fabric of the wedding dress, I walk up the stairs, and entering Adriano’s bedroom again, I glance over the rumpled black covers on the massive bed, the side tables, lamps, chaise, and floor-to-ceiling windows. The walk-in closet is huge, and every piece of clothing is packed neatly and arranged by color.
I walk a little deeper, and spotting the bathroom, I hurry into it and shut the door behind me.
Okay. Process this and come up with a plan of action.
Moving toward the long black-stone counter, I take in the sheer luxury of the spa-like tub and shower that’s straight out of my fantasies.
I flick up the lever by one of the sinks and wait for the water to warm a little before I squirt some handwash into my palm. Sniffing the gel, it smells expensive. While I wash my hands, my gaze locks on my reflection in the massive mirror that stretches across the wall above the entire counter.
The kink I always have in my hair has returned, and you wouldn’t think I spent thirty minutes straightening it this morning.
God, was it really this morning?
It feels like it’s been a week since I woke up in the penthouse and gorged myself on the most delicious breakfast I’ve ever had.
I signed the contract and marriage register. I’m legally bound to Adriano and so very screwed.
As I rinse my hands and the suds whirl down the drain, I try to remember everything he said, but that proves to be impossible.
After drying my hands, I glance around the bathroom. Spotting a round ottoman, I plop down on it, settling my chin in my palm as I stare at the shut bathroom door.
What am I going to do?
Adriano paid me. He’s made it very clear he has zero intention of going back on the deal or letting me go.
He has armed men who will stop me if a miracle happens and I manage to escape him.
I let out a sigh.
Jesus, can we just take a minute to think about how freaking intense and hot he is?
I shake my head, adamant not to go down that path.
But, damn, girl! You’ve been complaining about being ignored and treated like trash, and now there’s a drop-dead gorgeous billionaire who wants to lavish you with attention.
“Ugh. Stop, Laurie,” I mutter under my breath as I stand up again. “He’s a mafia boss.”
