I don’t give myself time to think. Grabbing my dress off the floor, I make a run for the door. But before my hand reaches the handle, I’m yanked off my feet. The dress slips from my grasp, landing in a crumpled heap on the floor.
My mind blanks out, replaced by pure panic. I try to scream, but a strong hand covers my mouth.
He’s got me.
TWO
Lucia
He wraps one arm around my waist, crushing me against the solid heat of his body, while his other hand silences me. I kick back wildly, trying to land a blow, but it’s no use.
His voice, deep and rough, grazes my ear. “Calm down.”
I instantly go limp, like a puppet with cut strings.
I know that voice. There’s no mistaking it.
It’s Tony. Tony Bruni.
The defiance slips right out of me, and as soon as he sees me stop struggling, his hand over my mouth loosens slightly. My feet are still off the ground as I cautiously turn my head, leaning it lightly against his chest, and look up.
Our eyes meet.
A pair of deep, black eyes stare back at me, bloodshot and burning with intensity.
It’s him.
The hard, solid body pressing against mine, the unrelenting strength holding me in place—this is Tony Bruni. His gaze cuts right through me, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.
Bare skin on bare skin. His hard length presses hot and heavy against my back, reminding me how completely helpless I am in his grasp. His heat and masculine scent overwhelm me, making my head spin.
“Let me go,” I whisper.
My soft plea makes the corner of his mouth curl into a smirk. His fingers dig deeper into the flesh of my waist, making me flinch.
The hand that had been covering my mouth slides downward, brushing against my skin. It drifts toward my chest, and my entire body shudders.
“Please… I’m begging you,” I manage, barely a sound.
His hand rests inches over my left breast, and his eyes close as if he’s slipping into another world, one far away from this room.
“Your heart’s pounding,” he murmurs, voice low and cold. “Like a bird caught in a snare.”
If his hand moves even a fraction lower, it will touch my nipple. Goosebumps rise on my skin, a surge of emotions flooding me: fear, panic, and something else I can’t name, something raw and confusing.
He sways slightly, then sinks to the floor, pulling me down with him, never loosening his grip.
God, what if someone walks in?
He buries his face in the curve of my neck, his scorching breath stinging my skin, reeking of alcohol. The sharp smell hits my nose, a bitter reminder of how drunk and gone he is.
“You remind me of her,” he mumbles. “The girl who was promised to me… and like everything else that was mine, handed over to Carlo.”
My eyes burn again. So, he knows. He knows everything.
His nose brushes my neck as he breathes me in, then pulls me closer into his arms despite my resistance. Turning me to face him, he locks his dark eyes onto mine. His thick brows are furrowed, his face darkened by a stormy scowl.
Shame burns hot across my skin. I’ve never even worn a bikini on a beach, never bared myself to any man. I lift my arms, trying to cover my breasts.
