Chapter 6 006

His speech reflects his possessiveness. A shudder goes through me from head to toe, and goosebumps prickle along my arms. "No one," I say, shaking him off. That's just my pals. It was a practical joke. A dumb joke. Salvatore's shoulders loosen their rigid line. Through his nostrils, he lets out a sigh. Perhaps this existence has twisted us both too much to handle a joke, given how swiftly he leaped to fight. Why he cares is beyond me. I'm not even sure if the word "cares" is appropriate.

As if to confirm it, my thoughts mutter again, "Insane." "They abducted me in order to take me to the club." I hesitate to tell him the truth, but there's no use in keeping it from him. "It was a birthday surprise." "Today?" I hoist the cigarette in a phony cheer and nod. "To me and the conclusion of my twenty-four years of successfully avoiding men like you." He examines me with a wolfish grin and asks, "Are you saying I'm not a good present?" He rubs my hip with his thumb to punctuate the query. I respond, "I'm amazed your ego can fit in the back of this car." All he does is twitch the corner of his mouth, which I find annoying and irresistible. I scowl and turn my head away from him. "You never responded when asked about the Christmas tunes." "I can't take it." "Well done, this is the best kidnapping I've experienced today." I am studied by Salvatore. "You don't really care, do you?" He queries. "I do," I acknowledge. "Of course I do. But I've feared this day my entire life. My father made sure I was constantly seeing me grow up. The fact that it's finally happening brings a messed-up sense of relief. The bad guy already has you, so you don't need to worry about him getting you. And unless you're thinking about letting me go because I yell and act out... "I don't work like that," he agrees. "Then, is there nothing more to do?" He doesn't seem to be satisfied with my explanation. He looks at me as if I were a child who was keeping the truth from him. "What?" Finally, frustrated, I demand. "What are you looking for?" "I want you to acknowledge that you like it." "Well, I don't." "You never learned how to lie from your dad?" When I eventually yell at him, "Shut up," his enormous hand curls around my throat. My pulse beats against his strong fingertips as my breath falters. My mouth hangs wide as I look up at him, unable to draw a breath. A steady, ravenous pulse shoots through my abdomen just by tightening my legs. He holds me like that, as if he wants to shatter me, and the song "Want, Want, Want" plays. He lets me go when he gets what he wants in my face. I growl at him in between breaths, "Fuck you." "Princess, can you hold off until we get out of the car?" His confidence emanates. Nothing I can say will embarrass him. I turn away and shake my head. When I look at him, he sees too much. "So, you do have some fighting spirit after all. Contessa Lovera is described as a little lamb by everyone. No claws. Are mafia bosses like that? linger and spread rumors about young girls? "We monitor our adversaries, including women, in case they become a problem in the future." I glare out the window, sulking, my pride scalded. I hear him giggle and feel his warm breath ghost against my neck. "Brave talk for a little girl who can't even look me in the eye," he says, cocking his head to whisper in my ear. He slides his teeth up my neck and suckers at the angry markings under my ear, causing me to gasp. Once more, my defenses come down. He was correct. " I wish I could get away from him, but I can't. He rubs his cheek and the scar and remarks, "Your father gave me this when I was barely more than a boy, before he bunkered down behind a desk." When you challenged him, what did he give you? A slap? I turn my head away, using my icy silence as leverage. I am unable to locate any scars that attest to my father's cruel treatment of me. Unlike Salvatore's scar, they don't seem worn out and ancient, but they are a faint, white reminder of the past. My wounds are gushing from one mistake. The headlights sweep us away. Salvatore told me I couldn't go barefoot in the parking lot. He holds me in his arms with ease, like the bride he says I will soon be. My tummy flutters betray me without my agreement, even though I normally detest being treated like a princess. I can smell his cologne when my nose is close to his neck; it's rich and delicate, with notes of sweet cigars and pricey whiskey. He must have a lot of muscle under that dark suit, since I couldn't help but imagine how easily he could throw me around. I'm dying to grab it from him to find out. Perhaps I'm the crazy one. I've been looking up at him carelessly and unprotected, my gaze following the thin white scar that accentuates his cheek. Even though my high was destroyed by the chaos long ago, I still feel inebriated. "Where are we going?" Salvatore dismisses my foolish inquiries as though I were a child. In front of us, a dark Rolls-Royce stops, its gleaming exterior reflecting all the light. This degree of luxury is foreign to me, even though I was raised in a wealthy household and had strapped my car seat in the back of Mercedes and armored Bentleys since I was a young child. For us, the driver opens the door. Salvatore adds, "You're behind the wheel," Salvatore typically drives even when it's not required, which doesn't surprise me. He appears to be a man who is always attempting to manipulate others. But now he has to manage me on top of everything else. Salvatore sprawls me across his lap in the backseat rather than taking the wheel. He is constantly touching me and staring at me. It's impossible for me not to be amazed by his sudden obsession. He looks to me as though he has never laid eyes on a lady. Many men have told me they want me after seeing me. I've never been stared at so intently. I can almost imagine that this isn't just a crazy man who can exact blood retribution if I close my eyes. In an authoritative tone, he continues, "Don't hide from me." I notice that my arm is still clamped over my breasts. Refusing to let me cover myself, he pries it away. He handles my body as if he already owned it, making it darker and harder, by stroking my bare breast with his thumb. I'm filling the back of the car with my heavy breathing. "You don't get any care, do you?" His hands get tired and he asks softly. It's embarrassing that he can figure this out so quickly. Embarrassment erupts in my face and travels down my neck. He can't be aware of my lack of experience. If he finds out, I will be tormented by embarrassment. However, his gentlest, most basic touches betray me by igniting a need in my body after 23 years of being seen as untouchable. The daughter of the don. The quest is too risky to be worthwhile. I worried about injuring innocent people all the time. Even after I had moved away from my father and his way of life, I still worried about what would happen if I ever crossed that line since he would not be in my one and only relationship, no matter how much I tempted and teased him. The coward. But Salvatore is fearless and touches me anywhere he pleases. When all I want is more, I can't make him stop. It's weird, but I want to tell him to stop being polite so I can take him. I'm the one who's nuts, for sure. í. His face is partially illuminated and partially shadowed by the flickering lighting. He didn't seem real when I first saw him. I'm too dangerous and a little too elderly. There is a hint of silver in his temples, and his jaw is so hard that I guess it seldom ever smiles. He has every terrible quality I've ever wanted in a man but have been too embarrassed to acknowledge. Because I don't want to acknowledge how they make me feel, I've disliked men like him my entire life. But I can't help but notice anything about Salvatore. I can't keep my desires for him or how I want him to treat me a secret. My body wants him to keep me close, but my mind begs him to let me go. I'm engaged in a battle against my own shame. A light shines in the shadows. Sal clenches a cigarette between his teeth and lights one for himself. He gives me one. The reason I oppose is that "I haven't smoked since I was thirteen." Still, he holds it out. I accept it with a sigh.