Page 161 of Brutal Heir

I arched a brow. “Nothing? Really? Is that a challenge?” I prowled closer, my tone turning silken. “Because I can think of more than a few things that would give you far more pleasure than that.”

Her hands clenched into fists. “Don’t try charming your way out of this, Sebastian. I’m angry. Beyond angry.”

“Noted.”

She struggled to zip her overstuffed suitcase, her fingers fumbling as fabric spilled over the edges. “Dammit.”

I watched her, amused. “My staff tells me you haven’t eaten.”

She didn’t look up. “Of course they have. The whole house is filled with your spies. I’m not hungry.”

“I think you should eat. Come with me. I’ll make you something.”

“No.”

“It wasn’t a request.”

She let out a humorless laugh. “Funny how that doesn’t change my answer.”

God, she was so fucking adorable when she was angry. Her blue eyes sparkled, her cheeks bloomed a becoming pink. Her stubbornness only made me want to break her resolve more.

“Fine,” I murmured, stepping closer. “Please remember that I tried to ask you nicely.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What do you⁠—”

I moved swiftly. Snatching her by the upper arm, I spun her to face me before bending, pressing my shoulder against her middle. With one sharp motion, I lifted her off the floor.

“Oh my God! Put me down.”

“No.”

She shrieked, kicking wildly, her fists pounding against my back. “Sebastian! Put me down this instant!”

I held her tighter against me as I carried her through the bedroom doorway.

A furious growl ripped from her throat. “I swear to God, I will murder you in your sleep.”

I smirked and delivered a playful swat to her ass. “Behave.”

The muffled screech she let out against my back only made me grin wider.

She could fight me all she wanted. But she wasn’t going anywhere.

And by the time I was through, she wouldn’t want to.

* * *

I finally set her down on a stool on the other side of the large marble island, releasing her only when I was sure she wouldn’t bolt.

The kitchen was a chef’s dream—sprawling counters of cool Carrara marble, dark walnut cabinetry, and high-end appliances seamlessly built into the sleek design.

Warm, ambient lighting softened the sharp lines of the space, making it feel inviting despite its grandeur.

Sabrina crossed her arms over her chest, her lips pursed as she glared at me.

“You cannot live in Rome and not eat an authentic Pasta Carbonara,” I announced.

She arched a brow. “What’s your special ingredient? Arsenic?”