Page 94 of Brutal Heir

She pushed out of my embrace and shimmied to the end of the bed, taking the top bedcover with her. Wrapping it around her body, she swept at the wet tears on her cheeks and faced me.

With a raised chin, she shook her head. “No, I won’t, because I’m not staying in Italy. The moment we land, I’m getting on the first plane to New York.”

I rose and pulled a pair of jeans from the wardrobe.

As I buttoned them, I turned to her. “And if I say no?”

Still clutching the blanket around her, she slipped into her jeans. Her narrowed gaze darted from the torn remnants of her T-shirt on the floor to me.

With a frustrated sigh, she marched past me to open the wardrobe. “I’ll try to hide my shock.”

For the second time today, she grabbed one of my dress shirts, this time only buttoning it halfway and tying the ends around her waist. I enjoyed the sight of her in my clothes.

Before she could object, I lifted her arm and rolled the cuff past her wrist. “Why won’t you even consider it?”

She backed away and rolled the second cuff over her forearm without my help. “The fact that you would even ask that is my reason.”

Snatching her blazer off the floor, she shoved her arms into the sleeves.

As she warmed to her topic, she ticked off points on her fingers. “You practically forced me onto this plane. When I tried to leave, you blocked my path. And then you…well, you…then we…anyway, you basically kidnapped me.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and shrugged. “Besides that.”

She shoved her platform loafers on with sharp movements. “You’re impossible. You know that?”

“I like to think of myself as determined.”

Determined to get what I wanted. Her.

She was a means to an end—a pawn in a delicate game of revenge between me and her father.

And yet, I was beginning to wonder if she could be something more.

She faced me, exasperation etched into her features. “I’ve already told you. I can’t take the job.”

I stepped forward and cupped her cheek. “Can’t or won’t?”

With a turn of her head, she ended my touch. “Both.”

“Tell me why.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“And yet, I’m asking for one.”

She huffed. “More like demanding one.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Call it what you want. We have two more hours until the plane lands. Want to bet I get my answers one way or another?”

Her cheeks flushed, but she stood firm. “Fine. For one thing, I promised my mother I’d never go to Italy.”

“Why would you promise such a thing? Italy is beautiful. You have Italian blood. You should want to see the land of your ancestors.”

Of course I already knew why.

Her piece-of-shit father.

But I wanted to hear her say it. For reasons I didn’t care to examine, I wanted her to confide in me.