Salvatore
“Have a seat.” I direct Bianca to the kitchen island. “I won’t repeat myself.”
She doesn’t budge.
Brat.
“You might kidnap and fuck women for fun, but I am not a game you pick up and put down whenever you want,” she snaps, exhaustion settled into her voice from screaming my name. “Just because you dabble in criminal activity doesn’t mean—“
She yelps when I pick her up and sit her on the kitchen island. I grab the mappina between her legs and tap her hip. “Lift.”
The ass I held while I fucked her senseless spills from green pajama shorts bunched up her thighs. Bianca shifts to her other hip for me to flatten the dishcloth across the cool surface.
A line forms between her brows at the glass bowls I pull from one of the refrigerators. “What are you doing?”
“Feeding you.” I state the obvious. “To answer your question, I’m not in the habit of kidnapping or cooking for women.”
“Then what is this?”
Fuck if I know.
Whatever possessed me to chase Bianca is a mystery, just like cooking for her and not chaining her to the bed after what she did. I don’t have time for distractions, yet she ran through my mind like she ran my car into the garage door. Her defiance challenges my control.
Even now, with her arms folded over my shirt she’d demanded to wear, is a high I can’t help but chase.
I grab the seasonings. “Let’s call this a chance to get to know each other after a series of unfortunate events. Trouble can’t help but find you.”
“How do I know you won’t skin me for murdering your car?”
My face twists. “I only do that in my kill container.”
She deadpans.
“You were in no real danger in the courtyard.” I sigh. “I’m…”
“The word you’re looking for is sorry,” she adds.
I nod.
“I don’t know you, and from what I’ve seen, you’re a dickhead, a dummy, and dangerous.”
A smile cracks my expression, which I aim at the stone backsplash. “Says the woman who rammed a car into a steel door four times and expected it to budge. You’re paying me back for damages and pain and suffering. Twenty million should do it.”
“Eat my ass!” she hurls at my shirtless back.
“Come here.” I’ve yet to taste her pussy and will spread her over the counter. Then I’ll fuck her mouth if she’s not careful.
“After you had me drugged and chained up? Tuh!” She folds her arms and looks away. “How do I know I’ll be okay when this is over?”
The tremor in her voice pulls my attention from the olive oil heating in the skillet.
“You have my word, Bianca, I won’t hurt you.” I keep my tone even. “I’m going to put something on the counter for you.”
Her scream pierces through aged stone walls at the gun I pull from my waist. “What the—“
“I will not hurt you,” I repeat. “Take this so you feel safe.” I shift the handle away from me and slide the Glock toward her.
She blinks slowly, eyes narrowed. I enjoy fucking with her, but I don’t want her scared anymore.
