Page 66 of The Red Queen

“Get out of my way,” she growled.

He shook his head. “The Signore wants to talk to you.”

Vitto left and she tried to follow, but he closed the door in her face. She rested her hand on the knob but didn’t try to open it. Not only would she have to contend with Vitto, who was employed by Giovanni, not her, but Giovanni’s personal bodyguard, who was likely somewhere nearby too. She wasn’t in good enough shape to take both of them.

“Desi.”

The deep, accented voice sent a shiver down her spine.

Why did that one word have to sound so sexy coming from his lips?

She turned back, her gaze narrowing on the French doors where he stood half in the bedroom and half out. He held a cigar between two fingers, the smoke rising to curl around him.

Desi crossed her arms protectively in front of her and remained standing by the door.

“Come here,” he commanded.

She glared at him, refusing to move.

He shook his head at her. “Don’t be a child, Desi. Come here. I want to talk to you.”

She laughed brittlely. “A child? Is that what I am to you?”

He took a long puff of his cigar and then flicked it into a marble ashtray on the balcony. He stepped into the room, blowing smoke through his mouth and nose as he strode toward her.

Desi took a step back, but the door was behind her, stopping her from escaping his advancing form.

He reached for her.

“Don’t touch me!” she snapped, swiping her hand at him.

Ignoring her command, he gripped her arm and pulled her into the room. He was gentle, but she was too angry to care. She despised his touch and the shower of sparks it sent through her body. She didn’t just feel betrayed by him, but by herself as well. Where was her iron control? How could she let this happen? She’d spent a lifetime being on guard, never allowing anyone inside, and here she was, a lovesick idiot, getting her heart trampled on by the man who’d convinced her to give life and love another try.

“Let go of me!” she snarled, yanking her arm.

He refused to let her go, and a spark of annoyance leapt into his gaze. He pulled her until she was standing directly in front of him, the scent of cigar, whiskey, and his spicy aftershave washing over her, sending the butterflies in her stomach into a wild dance.

He leaned closer to her, his breath caressing her cheek as he spoke. “I will never let you go, Desi. No matter how much you scream and fight. You are mine.”

“Fuck you!” she shouted, swinging her arm back and curling her fingers into a fist. Before she could let her fist fly, he swung her around and shoved her face first onto the bed.

She scrambled onto her back, gritting her teeth at the slicing pain streaking through her side. She was about to bound up off the bed and attack when he held a hand up.

“I know you overheard my conversation with Tomas,” he said quietly.

She stilled, staring up at him warily.

“I’m sorry you were hurt by what was said.”

His apology did nothing to assuage the emotional pain still raging through her but fanned the flames of her anger.

“You’re sorry you hurt me? What about bringing me here as some kind of baby making slave?” she demanded. “Are you sorry about that?”

“No, I’m not sorry,” he defended. “Why are you so angry, Desi? Did you think when we first met that it was love at first sight?”

She flinched at his sneering tone, and angry tears rushed to her eyes. “Of course I didn’t think that. I thought… I thought…” God, what had she thought? She’d been stupidly going along with Giovanni’s wishes without stopping to think about why she was there in the first place. “Antonio was right, you know. He guessed your intentions and tried to tell me. I didn’t believe him.”

“I don’t care what my jealous fool of a son thinks,” he growled, his words harsh, his tone hard and angry. “You were the feral product of a fallen cartel when we met. Brainwashed by Garza. What possible use could I have for a woman like that besides creating fierce children capable of handling the life I have chosen for them?”

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