Chiara Ventura stood in the center of the room like she’d been placed there. Positioned. Displayed. Beautiful.
Bruised in ways most wouldn’t notice, but I did. The subtle stiffness, the way she held her shoulders, the faint shadow beneath her eyes.
And still… She lifted her chin when she saw me. I almost smiled, but held back. I relished the look of fear in her eyes. Fear and intrigue mixing together into a potent cocktail of emotion.
“Well,” I drawled, taking my time as I crossed the room. “This is disappointing.”
Chiara’s brows snapped together. “What is?”
I let my gaze drag over her slowly. Deliberately. Not coming near her, but close enough for her to feel my eyes, stripping her naked.
“You looked better on your knees,” I smirked.
Her breath hitched. “Please, just please, stop lying.”
“There it is,” I murmured, pleased. “See,SignoreVentura? Shelovesto beg me.”
“You’re a filthy pig,” she snapped.
I finally smiled.
“And you’re marrying that pig,” I said lightly. “Careful. That makes youjustas filthy. Not that I didn’t already know just what a dirty girl you are, Chiara Ventura.”
Her father cleared his throat. “Watch your tone in my…”
I didn’t even look at him.
“If you speak again,” I said calmly, “make sure it’s something useful.”
Silence fell. Heavy. Immediate. Chiara noticed. I saw it in the way her eyes flicked briefly toward her father… then back to me. Something shifted behind her anger.
Her eyes were sizing me up now. Good. I hoped she was intimidated by all six feet five of me. I’d dominate her, and not just in the bedroom. From now on, she’d be my obedient puppet. Just what I wanted since the moment I sucked the poison out of her slim little ankle.
“You lied about me,” she said.
Ah. There it was. I turned back to her fully, giving her my attention like it was a privilege.
“Did I?” I asked innocently.
Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “You told them I begged you. That I…”
She cut herself off, shaking with the unfairness of it all.
“Yes, dear?” I grinned.
“That’s not what happened,” she hissed. “And you know it.”
I tilted my head, studying her like she was something mildly interesting. “Isn’t it?”
“No,” she bit out. “Youknowit’s not.”
I stepped closer. Close enough that she had to tilt her head back slightly to keep eye contact.
“I remember you grabbing my hair,” I said softly. “Pulling me closer. I remember you not wanting me to stop.”
“That’s not what…” she started, but I leaned in just enough to cut her off.
“Careful,” I murmured. “You’re calling me a liar in front of your Papa.”
