Page 10 of Revenge

She reaches up and fingers her tiara, then tears it from her hair, knocking loose the locks in front. One might believe she’d spent time in the pen herself because she strikes without warning, slashing the headpiece at me like a weapon, aiming for my eyes.

I catch her wrist as the crown hits, but not before it breaks the skin on my forehead.

Her mouth forms a round “O” of shock as she stares at the blood she produced.

Grudging admiration at her pluck surfaces. I like a fighter. It makes her ultimate defeat all the sweeter.

“Ah, there’s that rebellion I remembered.” I keep hold of her wrist, and with my free arm, I catch her waist and pull her onto my lap. I’m momentarily unnerved by how satisfying it is to have her soft ass cradled against my cock. To feel the slender lines of her waist under the silk brocade of her dress. To catch her honey and ginger scent.

“I will punish you for that. Drop the weapon, darling.”

Rather than open her fingers, she engages in a contest of strength, trying to shove the damn tiara in my face.

“Dahlia.” I don’t raise my voice; I lower it.

She sucks in a sharp breath, likely hearing the danger in my tone.

“Teaching you to obey will be my pleasure, but I very much doubt it will be yours.”

Dahlia

I don’t know how I got in an actual sparring match with this man.

With Antonio. The guy who gave me the most exciting moment of my life. The one who appears to be some kind of criminal now. Mafia, no doubt.

I should probably be petrified for my life, considering I just drew blood, but I’m not.

There’s something too familiar about him, regardless of the fact that I’ve only been with him for a combined total of two hours. I feel safe enough, even while he’s threatening me.

Perhaps it’s because he pulled me on his lap first. As if he wanted me closer, not further away.

Or maybe, it’s the purr in his voice when he promises retribution. Something that makes me want to know exactly what he intends to do with me if I disobey.

His bad-boy appeal is still firmly intact.

But I’m scared enough not to push.

I release my hold on the tiara.

“Good girl.” He brings my bundled fingers to his lips and bites my knuckles. Not hard, but it’s more than a nip. A tiny punishment. Or perhaps a warning.

I shouldn’t love the sensation the words good girl produce in me. The warm slithering through my core. A rise in temperature. The way they make me squirm over his hard thighs. I feel the answering hardness

“You’re bruising me,” I complain because his fingers are still wrapped too tightly around my wrist.

He releases it, and I lift my thumb to wipe the patch of blood at his temple. He watches me with an unwavering golden gaze.

I seem to recall that gaze was exactly what made me lose all reason the last time we were together.

The time he took my hand and pulled me into a supply closet to kiss me senseless. To stroke his large hands across my bare shoulders.

But what happened between then and now, I can’t fathom. I have no idea why he’s here. Why he’s my new husband. What happened to Jake Reese.

I try to piece it together. “You married me for my father’s business?”

Antonio scoffs. “No, Principessa. Your father already signed that over to me. I took you because I could.”

I stare at him. "But why?" Some dark, desperate, needy part of me wants to hear it’s because I meant something to him. The way he meant something huge and significant to me.