Page 21 of Brutal Heir

She twisted beneath me, writhing against the pressure, her hands caught between her competing desires to push me away and pull me closer.

I caught her lower lip between my teeth and tugged, almost savagely, just shy of drawing blood.

Then I took her mouth again, daring her to fight me off.

Madonna mia, revenge never tasted so sweet.

By the time I broke the kiss, her cheeks had flushed and her beautiful, deep sapphire-blue eyes had unfocused.

Knowing my restraint was dangerously close to slipping its leash, I pivoted on my heel.

Fuck. I couldn’t remember a time a woman had gotten me this hard and worked up over just a kiss.

Not wanting her to have the slightest notion of her effect on me, I moved to a rack of clothes I’d spotted when we entered the room and flicked through the hangers, dismissing dress after dress.

One was too short.

Another too garish.

I would secretly leak our involvement to the Italian press.

So she needed to look the part.

She needed to look like she belonged to me.

I settled on a curve-hugging, cobalt-blue velvet dress with a high collar and a flounce of black ostrich feathers at the hem. “Put this on.”

Her head pivoted to check the doorway before turning back to me. “I can’t put that on. It’s part of the collection.”

I walked past her to slam the door shut, then I locked it.

After taking several steps back to her, I ripped the dress off its hanger and handed it to her. “It wasn’t a request, Sabrina.”

She hugged the dress to her chest. “Look, I realize that you’re Sebastian Diamanti and that you’re a really big deal to the fashion industry, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t rules.”

Reaching into my inner suit pocket for my phone, I curled one corner of my mouth. “I’m glad you finally realize who I am. You bruised my ego earlier when you didn’t recognize me.”

She blinked several times. “I’m sorry.”

After a brief search of my contacts, I pressed a mobile number. “Don’t be sorry. Just do as you’re told.”

“Mr. Diamanti.”

“Sebastian.”

Her gaze shifted back and forth between me and the locked door, her lip caught between her teeth.

The gesture made me want to swipe my tongue over the soft fullness of her lower lip.

The person I’d called answered. “Bonsoir, monsieur. Comment puis-je vous être utile?”

“Un instant, s'il vous plait,” I responded before lowering the phone and glowering at Sabrina. “You have until I finish this phone call to obey me, and then I’m tearing that fucking vest off you.”

I waited until she ran behind the mirror to continue my call to the primary House of Diamanti store in Paris. "Oui, j’ai besoin que vous m’envoyiez le Persan Jaune. Je suis au Louvre."

As expected, the head manager objected to my taking out the Yellow Persian, a one-hundred carat yellow diamond solitaire necklace, without advance warning or a security detail.

“Cela prendra du temps pour organiser un garde. Comme vous le savez, ce diamant fait plus de cinquante carats, nous ne pouvons pas simplement⁠—"