“I’d rather stand.” If he thinks our first public sighting is going to be him barking out commands like I’m his pet dog, he has another think coming. I saunter to the windows—because that’s the only way I can move in these heels—and check out the view.
I stick my face closer to the glass and turn my head from left to right. “Are you serious?” I spin around and cross the room to the other set of windows. “You live on an island? Which one?”
“Gozo.”
Even if I had escaped his estate a few days ago, I wouldn’t have made it far. Gozo is a small island off Malta. A few hours by boat to the mainland and known for its few wineries—Parlatore being the main attraction, I guess.
“Wait. It will take us all night to get there by boat.”
“Sit. We’ll be there soon.” He takes his wine and leaves.
“What the ever-living shit is going on?” I storm after him, not finding him on the main deck. I turn toward the rear and find him looking out across the ocean. “You can’t just leave me down there like that. You haven’t said a word to me all night.”
“What is it you want me to say, Gia?” His voice is soft, his back still to me.
“I don’t know. ‘Nice dress’ or ‘You clean up well.’ Maybe acknowledge my presence. Treat me like a human and not a servant, which you treat pretty shitty, by the way.”
“You want me to acknowledge you and your dress?” He stalks up to me and grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Be careful what you wish for.” He releases me and storms off again.
I follow him back down to the fancy living room. “You know, you’re doing a hell of a job preparing me for our first public appearance. We’re supposed to pretend we like each other enough to get married tomorrow. I don’t know who the hell you’re planning on fooling, but no one is going to buy it.”
I tip back my glass and finish it in four gulps. I slam the crystal down and wince when I realize it could break. It doesn’t, so I slap a slice of cheese on a cracker and chomp on it. Stone still hasn’t moved from the center of the room.
With a dramatic huff, I pick up my glass again and march over to the bar. I don’t hear him move from where he’s rooted himself, but before I can pick up the bottle, his hands are on my arms. Stone roughly turns me around, pinning me to the bar.
This is how he attempts to have control, by pinning me to the wall, the door, the windows, and now a bar. Trapping his prey.
“Do you really want me to tell you how fucking gorgeous you look and how I’ve been thinking about your wet pussy all afternoon?” His hands frame either side of me, the only part of him touching me is his erection grinding against my core. He locks his gaze with mine. “How I’m wondering if you’re wearing a lace thong or wearing any underwear at all? Or how I keep picturing you bent over my desk as I slide your dress up over your ass and fuck you from behind? Is that what you want to hear?”
I tremble under the intensity of his words. Dirty words. Words that should repulse me. They don’t.
“Did you finish the job this afternoon, Gia?” he whispers.
“The job?”
“Did you go back to your room and touch yourself? In your bed? In the shower? Did you pick up where I left off, or is your pussy waiting for me to do it for you?”
I open my mouth to respond but no words come out. I don’t know what to say. The truth? That I thought about it but didn’t have the nerve to touch myself, afraid of the powerful orgasm? Afraid because it belonged to him. Because I want Stone to be the one to get me off, not my own fingers?
He curses and squeezes his eyes shut. “You didn’t, did you?”
When he opens them again, I shake my head.
“Merda.” His hands squeeze my waist, and he yanks me into him. “Tell me you don’t want me to finish the job, Gia. Tell me and I’ll let you go.”
I should tell him I don’t. I should push him away. If only I didn’t want this so much. I stay silent, waiting to see what he’ll do. He pisses me off and terrifies me at times, but I’m not afraid of him raping me. It angers him anytime I accuse him of being involved in Lorenzo’s world, or even whoring around. For some reason, I trust him. I believe if I say no, he’ll stop.
I remain silent.
“Gia,” he warns, his hand slipping lower until it reaches the slit in my dress.
When his fingers touch my bare thigh, I swear I hear my skin sizzle. Or maybe it’s the muttered curses coming out of his mouth. “Fuck, your skin is soft. Tell me you’re wet too.”
I can’t speak, even if I wanted to. My legs shake with nerves, with excitement. They open on their own, which earns me another string of curses.
Stone’s fingers inch toward my center. He takes his time. I haven’t thought him a slow, patient man. Definitely not a slow, patient lover. He’s demanding; takes what he wants. And right now, he wants me.
When the tip of one finger touches the lace barrier, I flinch, my arms still hanging loose by my side. I don’t know what to do with my hands. Touch him? Hold him? And where? Afraid he’ll push me away, I keep them by my side. Stone’s gaze flickers up to mine as if asking for permission. I understand he won’t ask with words. Not again. He already warned me once. He isn’t a man who repeats himself.