“Stop!” She snapped, her eyes widening as she realised t
he depth of his intention. “You are behaving like a madman. You have no right –.”
“I have every right,” he interrupted swiftly. “You don’t think what we shared gives me a right to care about your accommodations? To want to provide something better for you?”
Her balance was off. She felt like she was looking at the world through a kaleidoscope. None of the colours were fitting together properly. “No,” she said after a long beat had passed. “Three months ago – that’s twelve weeks – we slept together. That’s all that we shared. It was nothing. It meant nothing. It certainly doesn’t mean you have any reason to interfere in how I live my life.”
He opened his mouth to speak but she shook her head angrily. “And I need you to go. Now. My brother’s band rehearsal will be finishing. He’ll be home soon and the last thing he needs is to see a strange man in our home.”
“I don’t think you understand, Emily. I’m not going anywhere. Not until I know that you are living in a better fashion than this.” He waved his hand around the apartment, focussing on the drab curtains and threadbare carpet.
“How I live is not your problem.” She straightened her spine and eyeballed him without blinking. “And it’s very rude of you to come here and criticise my life.”
He laughed, and it tore through the tension. His eyes sparkled, when he laughed, and his chest moved. Emily watched him, her wariness holding itself around her like a cloak.
“Yes. Perhaps I am being rude,” he agreed finally, taking a step of his own towards her. “I am also being domineering. It is how I am. I think you will find my stance impossible to shift me from.”
Emily looked up at him slowly. “But why?”
“Because. You are better than this.” He reached for her hands and lifted them to her chest. He clasped them between their two bodies, and stroked her palms. “You are better than this.”
She was caught in his gaze, powerless to look away. “Do you really believe where someone lives matters? That the quality of their possessions defines the kind of person they are?”
“No.” His eyes were like black diamonds in his face. “I believe you are kind and good, and that you should be comfortable and content. I know for a fact that I can improve your life with a click of my fingers.”
“And then what?” She said, shaking her head.
“Meaning?” He prompted, truly at a loss as to what she meant with her interruption.
“What will I owe you? What will you expect in return?” Her blue eyes were clouded by pain. “Would you expect me to open my door and my bed to you every time you were in London? To be permanently available to you, because you had ‘improved my life’, as you put it?”
The idea of a quid pro quo had never entered his head. He opened his mouth to say as much when she carried on with her outraged tirade. “Because this place mightn’t be much, but I’m proud of it. And I would rather live here than become your… your… London mistress. Or whatever.” She crossed her arms across her chest and glared belligerently across the room.
Sabato had built his fortune by reading people. He knew enough of Emily’s circumstances to find himself empowered with all the ammunition he needed to bring her to heel. And yet he held off, momentarily, on using it. Emily had, after all, provided him with a far more fascinating angle to play.
“You wouldn’t like being my London mistress?” He asked, teasing her gently.
Emily’s cheeks flushed. She shook her head, but that pulse point beneath the pale skin at the base of her neck was shivering visibly. He lifted his fingers to it now, his expression faintly mocking as he felt the excitement vibrate beneath his touch. Yes. He would get back to the most persuasive argument shortly, but for now… he lowered his head, so that their lips were separated by only a tiny fissure in space. “You wouldn’t like me to sneak into your bed, late at night, and take you in my arms?” Emily’s eyes beat closed, and her body swayed towards him. He had no idea how long they had before they would be interrupted, but he had been starved of her for too long to care. He wrapped his arms around her body and lifted her, holding her tight against him. He kissed her, and he carried her, into the lounge room.
It was not the most salubrious environment, but he could not wait. Sabato removed her pants without breaking the kiss, and then freed himself from the confines of his clothing. He did not bother to undress, only to slip himself from the fabric, so that he could enter her swiftly.
“Sabato!” She cried out, digging her fingernails into his back as her body convulsed with the pleasure long denied to them. She wrapped her legs around his waist and sobbed into his chest.
He was not capable of controlling his reactions to her. She was too beautiful and too perfect for him. In that moment, he knew that he would give her the world if it kept her in his life. An apartment and sex might be all he could offer her, but he would make it the best damned apartment and the best damned sex if it meant he could feel this again and again.
They exploded simultaneously; two frantic, wretched souls, bursting with lust and passion, burning brighter than volcanic ash.
Emily held onto him, while her breathing returned to its usual cadence, and then she pushed him away. Her apartment looked the same, but now it had been added to the list of casualties in her life. The places that would always and forever remind her of Sabato Montepulciano.
Her eyes were haunted as she walked past him, and reached for some clean underwear and jeans. She pulled them on, aware of his silent watchfulness and powerless to formulate a sentence.
“Pack a bag, Emily,” he said quietly. When she angled her head to look at him, he was back to his normal self. Business-like. Efficient. Untouchable.
She swallowed and shook her head. “I’m not interested in what you can give me.” Except his heart. Only his heart.
She was digging in her heels. With every moment that passed, she was becoming more and more intent on doing the opposite of what he wished. Not just what he wished, he corrected internally, but what he knew to be the right course of action. What was the point of having billions at his disposal if he could not improve the life of someone as deserving as Emily?
“I would never have said you are selfish,” he drawled finally, his eyes dark in his face.