Page 42 of Brutal Heir

My head swam as each glass of champagne I’d drunk seemed to hit my bloodstream all at once. The world spun and flipped.

Sebastian clasped my face with both hands.

His mouth moved, but the words sounded muffled, lost underwater.

His name rang in my ears. That’s when I let go.

And the Eiffel Tower in the distance tilted…and tilted…

He caught me before I hit the ground.

His mouth formed a word—a curse or my name, I couldn’t tell.

My body went limp as darkness swallowed me whole.

CHAPTER 12

SEBASTIAN

Madonna santa. I needed to control myself better around this woman.

After seeing that half-empty champagne bottle in front of her at the café, I had no fucking business kissing her.

With a low curse, I swept her into my arms.

Fortunately, my car unlocked as I approached, allowing me to open the passenger door and gently place her inside.

Reaching over her slight frame, I buckled her in, brushing a stray curl from her flushed cheek. Whether the color came from the champagne or my kiss, I didn’t know.

What I did know was that she looked dangerously beautiful.

Once again, unease twisted in my gut, sharp and unforgiving.

Sacrificing the future of my family’s hundred-year diamond dynasty over some inconvenient ethical qualms wasn’t an option.

Not for me. Not for her.

I slammed the car door shut, my fingers curled into a fist.

As I got behind the wheel, I looked over at Sabrina.

It would have been easy—so easy—to drive straight to the airport. My corporate jet waited in a private hangar, guarded by Diamanti security. By the time she woke, we’d be in Rome.

She’d have nowhere to run, no one to turn to for help.

The sick truth was, I owned that city.

Money didn’t just buy luxury; it bought silence.

Fuck that. That was my father’s way. This revenge plan might reek of his influence, but I was determined to see it through on my terms.

And that didn’t include dragging Sabrina to Italy against her will…at least, not yet.

I pulled up to the private entrance of the Hotel Shangri-La, reserved exclusively for their most elite clientele. After waving the valet off, I carefully lifted Sabrina into my arms. She made a soft, kittenish sound, nuzzling her cheek against my shoulder.

A porter rushed ahead to press the elevator button for the terrace penthouse suite. I held her close as we stepped inside, her delicate perfume filling the confined space.

She stirred, a soft moan slipping past her lips as her back arched instinctively. “The room is spinning.”