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)
“Put me down!”
I placed her on her feet, but before she could scurry away, I pressed her against the brick wall, caging her in with my arms.
She reached toward the sidewalk. “My things!”
I turned her head to draw her attention back to me. “My driver will retrieve them.” I furrowed my brow. “You could have seriously hurt yourself back there.”
“My well-being is none of your concern.”
I focused on her pink lips. “I beg to differ.”
“This needs to stop. It’s pathological. Did you seriously just get me fired?”
“The House of Diamanti is a better career opportunity for you.”
She shoved against my chest. “That is not for you to decide!”
I twisted my hand in the hair at the nape of her neck. “I’m tiring of you fighting me, Sabrina.”
I covered her mouth with mine, cutting off whatever infuriating retort she might have had. Sheltering her from view with my body, I reached under her top to cup her breast through her bra and rubbed my thumb over her erect nipple.
She could protest all she wanted, but her body betrayed her.
Twisting her face to the side, she broke free as her small fists pounded against my chest. “No! I’m not doing this with you.”
She ducked under my arm and backed away. “I’m serious. I don’t know what kind of sick game you’re playing, but it’s over. I never want to see you again.”
I stalked toward her. “Well, sweetheart, that’s going to be difficult since I’m taking you to Italy with me.”
Her eyes widened as she gestured wildly with her arms. “Do you hear yourself talk? Do you have any idea…any idea at all…how fucking psychopathic and insane that sounds?”
She flipped her hands between us. “We don’t know one another. We’re complete strangers.”
Snatching her wrist, I yanked her to me.
With my hand wrapped around the side of her neck, I leaned down to rasp against her lips, “I know the feel of your pussy clenching around my cock. We’re not strangers, mia piccola.”
She didn’t deny it. She couldn’t
Before I could claim her mouth again, she wiggled out of my embrace and backed away. “That was a mistake. One I don’t plan on repeating. I’m warning you. Stay away from me.”
Turning, she strode down the covered archway of the arcade. When she emerged on the other side, she made a sharp left down another narrow street. This one had several medieval cream stucco and timber houses wedged between a kosher deli, falafel shop, several pâtisseries, and a few avant-garde vintage shops.
She disappeared through a rusted gate that protected a small flight of concrete stairs.
I frowned as I followed her.
I knew she had been renting a flat in this area because it was close to the Sauvage-Lafleur studio, but I had no idea it was a basement one.
The gate screeched as I pushed it open and descended below street level.
The first thing I observed was the partially rotted wooden entrance door with its large lattice window. Lower-level flats were notoriously unsafe under normal circumstances, let alone one with a dodgy front door.
I turned the knob.
Locked.
Grasping the knob, I pushed my shoulder against the door, splintering the bolt with ease.
I stepped inside, my blood simmering as I took in the cramped, dingy space. It wasn’t so much a flat as an open basement room.
This was how she’d been living in Paris? Unacceptable.
A thin countertop with a hot plate and a miniature refrigerator masqueraded as a kitchen. A makeshift, sectioned-off corner might have been a bathroom. Narrow mattresses littered the floor—at least eight by my count.
Sabrina knelt on one of them, shoving clothes into an open suitcase. She froze when she saw me then scowled as her gaze darted behind me.
“You’re going to pay for that door! I won’t have my roommates fined.”
Without waiting for my response, she resumed her packing, muttering about arrogant, egotistical men.
Leaning against the wall, I crossed my arms and watched her.
She looked utterly captivating when she was furious. Her blue eyes sparked with anger, her cheeks flushing a deep, vibrant pink that only enhanced her beauty.
She slammed the suitcase lid down and wrestled with the zipper. “Just tell me why.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Why what?”
Her eyes misted. “Why did you do it? Why did you get me fired?”
Pushing off the wall, I took a step toward her, then I stopped. My hand instinctively reached out before I curled it into a fist and let it drop.
She stood, her voice rising with every word. “Do you have any idea how hard I worked for that job offer? The mood boards, the concept development, the brand alignments. I took a pay cut to work like a dog at that fashion show, all for a chance to prove what I could do.”
Her anger was justified; nothing I could say would change that.
She began pacing the small room, stepping around the scattered mattresses. “And it was all for nothing. Nothing.”