Page 18 of Wretched Choices

“I told you to forget about my name and to stay away from my business.” He shakes his head. “You just didn’t listen, and you started asking questions that have nothing to do with the subject you told me about. The alleged affair.” He raises his eyebrows. “Questions that have raised my concern, Ms. Roberts.”

I swallow before speaking, this time more confidently. “What can I say? You made a very interesting first impression on me, Mr. Catalano.” I raise my eyebrow and smirk at his clenched jaw and flaring nostrils that are opposite from the emotions in his eyes.

I brush off his warning expression. “How did you get through my security system?”

He takes the few steps around the counter, his eyes never leaving mine until he is standing in front of me.

I don’t move.

If I was sane, I would grab something for a weapon, but he has me under his spell.

Leaning in, he cages me with his hands on the counter. I’m a tall woman but I still need to tilt my head to look at him, not breaking the eye contact for a second. Even if my heart is beating so hard that it might explode.

“Did I?” Tilting his head to the side, his eyes roam over my face. “And why is that?” he asks. The tip of his tongue peeks out and my eyes follow the action as he wets his lips, forgetting all about what I asked him.

“Why what?” My eyes jump to his, realizing the situation I’m in.

“How did I leave an interesting impression?” His husky voice causes goosebumps on my body.

Trying to sober from his presence, I take a step back, a small one because I’m pinned between the counter and Salvatore. “You threatened me, and I don’t like to be threatened. I take it as a challenge, a puzzle I need to solve, and you are an interesting puzzle.” At least some of that is legit.

“You don’t want to know about me. Leave me out of your story. The senator’s wife, however, I don’t care about. She is no longer welcome in my hotel.”

“Isn’t that going to get more attention on you?” I ask.

“I don’t care. Drop the story and the search for things that don’t exist. I’m warning you for the last time.” His tone cuts deep down in my stomach. I swallow and bite on my lower lip, his eyes watching my action.

“And if I don’t?” I breathe out, daring him. His eyes flash with a fraction of interest before his hand wraps around my neck, just like the other night as he closes the distance between us and robs me of my breath. His suit jacket brushing the bare skin of my belly reminds me that I unbuttoned my blouse as soon as I came home. But once again, I get distracted by his muscular thigh pressed against my core.

“You don’t want to cross me, Ms. Roberts. This is your last warning, otherwise you will bear the consequences.”

I should be scared, but I’m not.

“Are you threatening me?” I push against his grip. He’s bigger, stronger, and could just squeeze my neck with his hand. Regardless, I have a feeling he wouldn’t, even if my suspicions and the rumors are true. There is a moral code every mafia goes by, and if my suspicions are correct, he will not kill me. His jaw ticks, his eyes dark and dangerous.

Just as I thought he would unleash his anger on me, he crushes his lips on mine. With one hand around my neck and the other on my lower back, he presses me toward his hard body, his lips attacking mine, his tongue parting my lips, pushing inside. And I let him.

Our tongues clash, and my hands find their way to the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling him to me. I can feel tremors down my spine and in my stomach, the carnal desire that I feel is robbing me of my breath. The tingling feeling in my core wants more than the kiss. His hand grabs my ass, pressing me even more to him. Feeling his hardness digging into my stomach, I let out a moan in his mouth.

And just like that, the spell has been broken.

He stops and pushes away from me like he’s on fire. Fighting for air, I look at him, his eyes burning with fury and his anger taking over.

“This is your last warning. Stay away from my business. You won’t like the outcome.” His low voice leaves me shivering.

eight

Salvatore

Fury, anger, rage.

I don’t have words to describe how I feel when I walk out of her apartment and back to my car. I never get out of control like that. Never. And I sure do not force myself on women. I should know better. I will never be like him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I roar every time my fist hits the console of the car. I take a deep breath to calm down and focus. I close my eyes, and all I can see is her standing in that kitchen, defying my presence and standing her ground, making me act the way I did. And all I can think of is the taste of lemons mixed with wine from her lips.

I need to stay away from this woman.

Everything she finds she could use against me, and from the look in her eyes, she doesn’t intend to stop her investigation. For some reason, she is too invested in this story.

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