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)
“Answer me, Sebastian. Are you and my father friends?”
“Far from it."
“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means precisely what I said.”
“That’s not a good enough answer!”
“It will have to be.”
“Are you seriously not going to tell me your relationship to my father?”
“No.”
My voice rose, raw and trembling with fury. “Answer me! Are you and my father conspiring together? Does he know who I am? Did he pay you to bring me to Rome?”
Sebastian raised an eyebrow, his expression cool and detached in a way that made my blood boil. “Do I look like a man who needs money?”
“Then did he blackmail you? Force you? Threaten you?”
His composure cracked. “I’m not in the habit of being questioned, Sabrina.”
I stumbled back, pressing a hand to my mouth as a shiver coursed through me.
My fingers trembled against my lips while I desperately tried to hold myself together, but the weight of everything—his secrets, the lies, and the traitorous, growing feelings I had for him—threatened to tear me apart.
“I can’t believe this is happening.”
Sebastian reached for me, his expression now back to unreadable, a cold mask, but I stepped back farther.
A low-hanging branch snagged on the embroidered fabric of my dress. Twisting my torso with more force than necessary, I tore it free, the sharp motion making my frustration boil over.
He took another step forward, calm and composed in that infuriating way that made my skin prickle. “Nothing is happening, Sabrina. You’re overwrought after seeing your father. That is all.”
I let out a bitter laugh, the sound ripping from my throat. “I’m overwrought because I saw my father against my will for the first time in the middle of a crowded fucking ballroom. I’m overwrought because there’s a rumor out there that he killed my mother. I’m overwrought because apparently my family is the fucking mob! I’m overwrought because I was brought to Italy under false pretenses. And I’m overwrought because you have been lying to me from the beginning. Don’t you dare tell me why I’m overwrought, Sebastian!”
“How does you hearing some stupid fucking rumor from over twenty years ago somehow turn into an attack on me and why I brought you to Rome?”
“Because we both know I’m not here because you recognized my talent as a fashion stylist."
His hands flexed at his sides, the calm mask beginning to crack. “I’m tired of arguing over this, Sabrina.”
“Then stop fucking lying to me about it, Sebastian!” I shouted, my voice echoing in the stillness of the courtyard. “I’m not stupid. I might not know why, but I know I’m here because of my family name, not because of my talent.”
His lips pressing into a thin, hard line. “If you don’t calm down, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” I narrowed my eyes.
He lunged for me, closing the distance between us in a heartbeat.
Grabbing my face with both hands, his grip firm but not cruel, his hot breath rasped against my skin. “This.”
Before I could respond, his mouth crashed onto mine with such force it stole the air from my lungs.
The kiss wasn’t soft or gentle—it was raw, demanding, and so overpowering it drowned out every coherent thought in my mind.
CHAPTER 39
SEBASTIAN
She needed to stop.
Stop with the questions.
Stop with the accusations.
Stop looking so fucking vulnerable and broken.
Guilt and rage pulsed through my veins.
I kissed her out of fear and desperation.
Fear that I would ruin everything by telling her the truth.
Desperation that the moment she learned that truth, she would leave…no, not just leave…leave me.
For men like me, emotions like that quickly turned into anger.
Anger was familiar.
Anger was productive.
Anger got the job done.
I sank my teeth into her lower lip, needing to taste her blood. Wanting to cause her pain. Wanting her to feel the same sharp, high emotion coursing through me.
Her small fists beat against my arms and chest, but I refused to relent.
I captured her mouth again, the metallic tang of her blood mixing with the remnants of champagne still on her lips.
I stepped forward, forcing her body back against the rough trunk of a tree.
I twisted my fingers in her hair, holding her head steady, turning my kiss into an assault of possession. I moved my right hand to the bodice of her dress, frustration building at the fabric separating us.
I needed to feel her skin, her warmth, her heartbeat pounding against me.
I was a man possessed.
I dug my fingernails into the delicate fabric of her collar and tore downward.
Diamonds and pearls scattered across the stone pavement, their tiny pings lost in the thundering rush of blood in my ears.
But nothing drowned out her cries.
I moved my lips from her mouth to her cheek, tasting the salt of her tears.
“Please, Sebastian. I’m begging you. Please just let me go,” she sobbed, her fingers digging into the flesh of my upper arms.
I froze, staring down at her tear-streaked face.