Page 40 of Brutal Heir

He leaned in closer. “Do I look like someone who does something just to be nice?”

I opened my mouth to respond but closed it almost instantly. “I… I’m not sure.”

“The answer is no, Sabrina. I asked you to dinner this evening because I wanted to spend more time with you.”

My pulse fluttered in a warning. This was going to make it worse—but I couldn’t stay silent.

After fidgeting with the ring on my right hand in agitation, I bit my lip, searching for the right response. “Strictly speaking, you didn’t ask me to dinner. It was more of a command.”

The muscles in his jaw tightened.

Crap. That was definitely not the right thing to say.

His thumb caressed my lower lip where I had bitten it. “Why do you insist on angering me?”

My lip trembled under his touch. “I’m not trying to anger you. I just…don’t understand.”

He tilted his head slightly. “What is there to understand?”

“You can’t be serious.”

His hand shifted to tilt my head back. The warm metal of his signet ring pushed into my skin, branding me. “I’m always serious.”

I wrapped my hand around his wrist. “How did you know my name?” I blurted out.

“What?”

“My name. At the party, you mentioned my full name. I never gave it to you.” Before he could respond, I cut him off. “Don’t even try to say you heard it from Édouard. We both know that’s a lie.”

Édouard barely remembered his own mother’s name, let alone the name of a lowly up-and-coming fashion stylist hired to style his social media posts, not the more prestigious Vogue shoot.

His fingers tightened on my face for a fleeting second.

My heart stopped beating.

Then he smiled.

And it somehow made everything worse.

“You’re smart. It makes all this so much easier.”

The champagne gave me false courage. “Did you know who I was before we bumped into each other today?”

“Yes.”

I blinked. I couldn’t say for certain what answer I expected, but stark honesty didn't make the list.

Even as I said it, another thought pierced my chest.

Sebastian was Italian.

What if he knew who my father was?

I used my mother’s name, Badalamenti, but hadn’t Sebastian just told me that money could buy him anything? Had he somehow learned I was Judge Delluci’s illegitimate daughter?

What if my father sent him?

I'd brushed her off, tired of her constant overprotective smothering. I wanted a life and a career. I couldn’t let my mother’s irrational fears rule my life any longer.