Page 12 of Wanton

I glance up at him.

"You slept in my arms all night," he says. "You slept peacefully." A teasing smile dances at his lips. "You like to cuddle."

"I do not."

"You do." His dark gaze slides across my face, hot and hungry. "I never knew it could be so…stimulating."

I drop my fork with a clatter, placing my hands on the table to push myself to my feet.

"Forgive me,principessa," he says with a sharp shake of his head. "I'm not trying to get on your nerves. You seem to bring it out of me."

"So it's my fault you can't have a single conversation without being a jerk?"

"No. It's your fault I can't think because my cock is so hard it hurts," he growls. "No one speaks to me the way you do. The more you fight me, the harder it makes me. The longer I look at you, the more I ache to taste you. You're driving me fucking crazy,piccolina."

"What do you want from me?" I cry, my stomach clenching at the look in his eyes, as if he's never been more serious in his life. He means every word. I may be here for a reason, but he wants me for exactly the reasons he just said. And that scares me and doesn't scare me nearly enough at the same time.

I expect him to give me the same non-answers he's been giving me, but he doesn't. He surprises me this time. He gives me the truth. At least, some version of it. "I want you to help me stop a war, Callandria," he says, sitting back in his chair. "You grandfather started something that may very well destroy us all. I need you to help me stop it."

My stomach trembles as the pieces begin to connect in my mind. I don't need him to spell it out for me. I know exactly what he's asking of me. And yet…and yet I want to hear him say it anyway. "Tell me," I say.

"I want you to give me an heir." He holds my gaze, unflinching. "In exchange, you'll have your freedom. Whatever marriage contract your grandfather sold you into disappears. You'll have the opportunity to pursue college, a career, whatever you choose to do. All you have to do is say yes."

He makes it sound so simple, but we both know things are never simple in this world. All I have to do is forsake my family and turn my back on everything I was ever taught. All I have to do is crawl into bed with the brother of the man who killed my grandfather, with my family's sworn enemy. If there's a war brewing, I'm supposed to be on the opposite side. They left a pile of bodies on our doorstep—men I've known my entire life.

"Tommaso Genovese was the only one who wanted a war," Luca says quietly. "Rafe would never have raised a hand against him had he not started this entire thing. If your father chooses to retaliate, it will be a blood bath."

I only know what Marcello has shared with me and what tidbits I've picked up from listening when I shouldn't have been, but I've put together enough to know Luca probably isn't wrong about that. Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, and burn for burn. It's a dangerous way to live, but it's the only way these men know. Unless they have a reason to stop, they never will.

A Genovese-Valentino heir would be a reason. It would be a massively big reason.

"What happens if I don't agree?"

"You stay until I convince you."

"What happens, Luca?"

His jaw clenches, his eyes turning hard. "Your father knows exactly where you are and whose bed you're sleeping in," he states, his voice clipped. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, doing something on the screen. His eyes meet mine over the top of it before he slowly turns it around. "And he believes you're here by choice."

I stare at the photo on the screen in shock. It's the two of us in his bed. I'm snuggled up against him, my arm thrown over his stomach, my head resting peacefully on his chest. He's holding my ass in one hand, a look of pure possession on his face as he stares into the camera. I don't look like a prisoner. He doesn't look like my captor. We don't look like enemies. We look indecently, scandalously intimate.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot my fork. I grab it, lunging across the table for him as hurt and anger crash together like cymbals in my chest. I believed him. I actually believed him when he said he wasn't going to force me.

He drops his phone, grabbing me around the waist.

Somehow, he hauls me across the table into his arms. I land on his lap, straddling him with my arms locked together behind my back. He keeps me pinned there embarrassingly easy. He doesn't even break a sweat. The bastard doesn't even work for it. He just subdues me like I'm a toddler in the throes of a tantrum.

His mouth comes down on mine in a hard kiss, his tongue sweeping into my mouth to steal my breath. He takes the tiniest taste of me and then breaks away, breathing hard.

"What did I tell you,principessa?" he growls, his lips inches from mine. "I'm not one of your grandfather's little playthings. Lash out at me, and I lash back."

"You're a liar," I seethe.

"No, I never lied."

"You said you wouldn't force me. What do you call this, Luca?" I spit at him, struggling in his arms. "You leave me no choice, and you know it!"

"I leave you the best choice I can leave you, Callandria. Your grandfather put us here. I'm doing what I have to do to ensure you have a family to return to. Would you prefer we murder your father and brother now?" he growls. "Is that the choice you'd prefer we make?"