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)
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.
What if I’d just signed my own death warrant?
I pushed against his chest, but he didn’t budge. “Are you working with my father? Are you stalking me?”
“No, piccolo. I don’t stalk. I came to Paris to find you.”
Find me?
There it was again.
The one word that kept repeating over and over in my head almost since the moment I met him.
Run.
I struggled to free myself, clawing at his coat. “Please, don’t hurt me.”
With his hand wrapped around my throat, I barely heard his response over my panic. “That will depend on you.”
His mouth claimed mine.
My struggles only seemed to fuel him as he pressed his body more firmly against mine.
I should’ve screamed.
Instead, I kissed him back.
When I fought to keep my lips closed, he squeezed my throat until I opened them on a gasp.
His tongue pushed inside.
He wasn’t kissing me. He was consuming me.
His head slanted to deepen the kiss, his dominance overwhelming.
The press of his arousal against my stomach scorched away any remaining thoughts of resistance.
It was as if I were drowning. Submerged in silent weightlessness, yet still facing the threat of death.
I clenched fistfuls of fabric as I fought to stay above the water.
I lost the battle.
Did anyone ever go to war with Sebastian Diamanti and win?
It intoxicated me to be forced to submit to his embrace. Men my age were so hesitant to offend. So polite.
But Sebastian appealed to a dark, hidden desire inside of me.
A desire I didn’t dare express. One that yearned for a man to have the confidence, the experience, the arrogance, to force me against a wall and just take what he wanted. A man who was so overcome with the need to kiss me, he couldn’t fathom waiting another moment, not even to ask for consent.
He deepened the kiss.
My heartbeat tripped, then pounded faster, drowning everything else out.
The problem was—reality and fantasy were two very different things.
There was a reason men like that needed to stay between the pages of books. Because in real life, there were real consequences for letting a man become unleashed.
I shoved him back, fighting for breath.
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.