Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 93347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
He was insane.
There wasn’t a chance in hell I’d meet him anywhere.
Alone.
At night.
In a foreign city.
Before I could tell him where he could shove his demands, he grabbed my waist, yanking me flush against his chest.
“I suggest you remember rule number one.”
Don’t disobey him.
He gave me another harsh kiss, which bruised my lips, and then he disappeared.
No longer caring about the precious dress, I slowly sank to my knees.
I’d just been claimed by Sebastian Diamanti, a man who could ruin my career with a flick of his wrist.
Claimed by a man who didn’t ask permission.
And I had no idea how to stop him.
CHAPTER 9
SEBASTIAN
Icould still taste her reluctant kiss.
Her futile struggles against my embrace had been a turn-on.
My palm itched with the anticipation of holding her down by her wrists while I…
“So was Plan B a success?” Rafaello entered our Parisian home carrying a case of wine, breaking into my illicit thoughts.
At my questioning look, he shifted his arm to show the name on the box, Cavalieri. “Enzo sent a case of Vino Nobile di Montepulciano d'Abruzzo dei Cavalieri as a thank you for taking care of that bullshit business with the Columbians. He said the last body was fished out just yesterday.”
A note was taped to the top. After tearing open the envelope, I read it out loud. “No Italian should endure the indignity of drinking French wine.” I tossed the note aside. “Funny. Did you want that or a spritz?”
After placing the box down, he wiped the cardboard dust off his hands. “Spritz. I’ll save the wine for dinner.”
I surveyed the bar ingredients lined up on the sideboard by our staff. “Venetian or Tarocco?”
Although the Rue de Lille apartment belonged to the family, I hated everything about it. Cold, sterile, and soulless. All white walls, brutalist cement, strange metal sculptures, and oversized glass.
It reeked of my mother’s post-modernist rebellion phase.
My brother settled onto an ugly mustard-yellow leather sofa, the only splash of color in the room. “Tarocco. What are you doing here? I thought you were going to stay at the Shangri-La.”
After adding the gin and Cappelletti over ice, I pulled the crystal stopper off the carafe of blood-orange juice and poured a healthy splash before finishing it with some lemon juice and a dash of vanilla syrup.
Capping the cocktail shaker, I raised my arm and shook it over my shoulder as I answered. “I am. I’m just here for apertivos.”
Rafaello stretched out his arm and selected an artichoke and fried pancetta crostini from the selection of snacks prepared by our Italian chef.
Our Italian animosity toward all things French ran deep.
So deep, we always brought our own staff when we traveled to Paris for the shows, preferring home food to the rich French cuisine.
Before taking a bite, he asked, “Not staying for dinner?”
“I have other plans.”
A smirk played on his lips as he wagged his eyebrows. “Would this be Plan B? Should I be worried there is a female tied spread-eagle on the marble slab down in the hammam?”
My cock lengthened at the thought of Sabrina stretched naked over the Turkish bath marble bed down in the basement.
To conceal my erection, I stalled while opening the prosecco to refill Rafaello's drink.
Dammit.
Being this attracted to Sabrina wasn’t part of the plan.
I’d sworn not to touch her.
Using the judge's innocent daughter as a pawn in our twisted game might make me a monster, but I'd resolved not to be a heartless one.
Then I'd kissed her.
It had taken all my restraint not to shove her against a wall and fuck her there and then.
Her purity and innocence were remarkable. It tempted a man to corrupt her. To possess her. An uncut diamond in the rough.
I wanted to be the man to fashion and mold her, to bring out her beautiful facets until she shone so brightly that anyone who beheld her would go mad with envy.
It was a dangerous thought.
Going forward, I would have to be more cautious with her.
With my reaction to Sabrina under control, I brought Rafaello his drink, just as Arabella breezed in. Several staff members flanked her, their arms filled with shopping bags.
“Ciao, dear brothers.”
Rafaello sat forward to set his drink down. “Where have you been? I’ve been texting you.”
As she flung herself onto the sofa, she rolled her eyes in exasperation.
Then, after giving Rafaello a kiss on the cheek, she pulled off her heels and curled her legs under her. “I had to turn my phone off. Mother wouldn’t stop calling. She’s pissed as hell we didn’t hold the corporate jet for her.”
Unconcerned, I shrugged. “I warned her that Rafaello had an early morning meeting with that Geneva auction house over their latest diamond acquisition.”
Propped up on her knees to rest her arms on the back of the sofa, Arabella gazed at me. “Did you tell them my suggestion to cut it into an oval brilliant with the sixty-six facets like the Koh-i-noor, or are they still determined to cut it into an oval cushion like the Star of the South?”