Page 36 of Brutal Heir

The way he took charge of the situation and insisted on playing the knight in shining armor made me want to swoon.

It was as if he'd stepped right out of the pages of a book.

I’d met a real-life Italian Mr. Darcy.

Then the situation had rapidly changed.

My first hint of trouble was in the way he stared after me when I'd entered the museum. There was just something about his rigid stance, as if he were forcing himself to let me go.

I should be grateful to him for saving me from Édouard’s wrath, but it was the way he'd saved me that left a sour taste in my mouth. Again, I had the distinct impression he was somehow leashing what would have been a more violent reaction. He was holding back. Barely.

The way he'd insisted on my wearing his diamond and joining him at the pre-party. I couldn’t shake the feeling he was somehow marking me as his new possession.

Then there were all the whispers and wary looks while he'd ushered me around.

Mafia.

Dangerous.

Violent.

It was too much.

I grazed my still-swollen lips with my fingertips.

And that kiss.

Holy hell, that kiss.

Never in my life had I been kissed with such all-consuming intensity. As if he were inhaling my very soul. Overly dramatic, but still…that kiss!

I gave myself a mental shake and took another gulp of champagne before I reached for the almost empty bottle nearby.

Sebastian Diamanti was not a man to be trifled with. He was the very walking definition of playing with fire, and I’d made the right decision to run as far away from him as possible.

Hating myself for it, I flipped my phone back over. The screen lit up.

Twenty minutes.

There was no way he didn’t know that I wasn’t coming by now.

How would he react?

It was terrifying enough to be near such palpable anger, let alone be the object of it. What would that even feel like? To have such controlled rage focused in on me. Surely, I’d burn to a cinder just from his glare.

My hand shook slightly as I poured more ill-advised champagne into my glass.

Well, it was too late to worry about it now.

The damage was done.

Maybe he wouldn’t even care?

Maybe I was one of a dozen women he'd invited to dinner? It was, after all, fashion week in Paris, and he was a wealthy and famous man. It was reasonable to assume there were more than enough women throwing themselves at his feet.

I thinned my lips and paused in raising the glass to my mouth. There was absolutely no reason why that thought should bother me. Instead of being jealous, I should be grateful to those women for saving me.

And make no mistake, while Sebastian Diamanti might have saved me earlier, by ignoring his command to join him later, I was certain I had just saved myself from him.