Page 20 of Endless Obsession

He chuckled and pulled me close. “It’s for you, farfallina. This will be your gallery if you want it.”

“What?” I asked on a little puff of air, not sure if I’d heard him correctly.

“I’ll buy it for you,” he elaborated. “But if you don’t like the space, we’ll find somewhere else.”

I shook my head, my eyes stinging. “It’s too much.”

He cupped my cheeks in both hands, holding me as though I was his most precious treasure. “Nothing is too much for you.”

“But I didn’t earn it,” I protested. My heart tugged toward his. I wanted to accept, but I couldn’t quite shake the lingering sense of unworthiness.

His expression turned stern. “Did you earn your degree?”

“Yes, but I’ve never sold my art. I’ve never been featured in a gallery. You can’t buy success for me, Massimo.”

“I’m not buying your success; that will be your own, and I won’t take it from you. But I can provide the space where you can reach others with your art. Whether you succeed or not will be up to you. But I have faith that you will.”

“I love you.” The words rushed from me in a burst of pure emotion.

His eyes widened with awe for a fraction of a second before he crushed his lips to mine, as though he could taste the promise of my devotion on my tongue.

He stepped toward me, never breaking our kiss as he directed me into the privacy of the back room, away from the large shop window where passersby might see us. He pushed me up against the wall and shoved my dress over my thighs, reaching for my core.

“Tell me again,” he commanded, grabbing my sex in a rough, possessive grip.

“I love you,” I moaned, rocking my hips into his hand, seeking stimulation.

My clit pulsed with pleasure as he ground his palm against it, his fingers dipping between my slick folds. I was wet and ready for him, desperate to feel him inside me, making love to me. I felt his love in every lash of his tongue against mine and in the harsher graze of his teeth over my lower lip.

“All mine,” he growled into my mouth, lavishing me with hungry kisses.

He rotated his hand against my sensitive pussy, and I cried out at the burst of pleasure.

“Your whore is beautiful, but I’d rather see my hands on her.”

I yelped at the new, unfamiliar voice. Massimo whirled, placing his massive body between me and the crass stranger.

Three men crowded into the back room with us. They were all armed, and the one at the center of the group—the man who’d spoken—held a gun trained on Massimo’s heart.

I cringed at the sight of his scarred face, which was twisted in a maniacal leer.

He jerked his chin in the direction of the back wall, and I noted the open door for the first time. It led into a darkened space, and I glimpsed a concrete wall and stairs.

“We’re going into the basement. I wouldn’t want anyone to hear your slut screaming.”

“You’ll be the one screaming,” Massimo snarled, his huge body swelling with protective rage. “You’re a dead man, Rocco.”

The intruder barked a cruel laugh. “Who’s holding the gun here?” he challenged. “I’ll shoot you if you reach for your weapon, and then you won’t be alive to watch me play with her. That would be a shame. I’ve been dreaming of the day I get to destroy you for what you did to my face, and you won’t rob me of the satisfaction.”

“You killed my parents,” Massimo growled, and my heart skipped a beat. “I should’ve ended you that day. You will not touch Evelyn.”

Rocco sneered. “I think you’ll find that I will touch her as much as I want.” He nodded in the direction of the basement again. “Go on. Or I’ll make it hurt worse.”

Massimo reached for me, taking my hand in a vise grip. “It will be okay, farfallina,” he promised. “I’ll keep you safe.”

I wished I could believe him, but even my dark protector couldn’t survive a bullet to the heart.

“I’ll go with you,” I told the monster who’d murdered his parents. “Don’t hurt Massimo.”

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