Dear God, why is it?
“I’m not sure I’ll have the same restraint if it happens again,” he rasps.
Heat pools low in my belly as thoughts riot inside my head, the escalating push and pull driving me to madness.
Kiss him.Claim him.Run.
“You want me,” he whispers. “I refuse to believe in a reality where you don’t.”
I shake my head as my body screamsyes. “It’s not that simple.” Not when my ability to trust was eradicated by my own father.
The stakes are too high. The scars too deep.
“You’re right. It’s not.” His touch evaporates. There’s a rustle of movement. Another brush of sound.
I open my eyes and find him reaching inside his suit jacket, retrieving something from the chest pocket.
“Let me make it easier.” He withdraws an envelope and hands it over.
I open it.
Unfold the page inside.
Stare.
The legal jargon hits first. Sterile words in crisp font.
It’s a contract. Already signed. An “irrevocable” transfer of Raffael’s entire personal net worth to me if he betrays my trust in any capacity.
Financially.
Emotionally.
Physically.
Professionally.
My gaze snaps to his. “Why would you sign this?”
He peers back at me, sincerity and conviction molded into the devastating handsomeness of his features. “Because money means nothing when pitted against losing you.”
I hang by a thread, my resolve so close to defeat.
“No.” I shove the paper against his chest, needing to get it away from me as fast as possible.
“Yes.” His hand closes over mine, trapping my palm against the solid thud of his heart.
I whimper. Panic.
His eyes darken. Smolder. “Careful,la mia rovina. Another sound like that and we won’t make it out of this room with our clothes intact.”
Dear God.
I wrench my hand free, turn to the door, then inch it open enough to slide through the crack. “I’ll give it some thought.”
He follows. “I’d appreciate that.”
The words are polite. But the tone? Pure seductive menace.
