Page 58 of Auctioned To Her Dad's Mafia Enemies

Antonio watches me, his eyes dark, searching. “Aemelia…”His voice is hesitant, like he’s unsure how to navigate the space between us.

I swallow hard. “So that’s why you lost itdownstairs?”

The silence stretches between us, thick andcharged. I should be angry at him. Maybe I am. But there’s something deeperbeneath my frustration, something I don’t want to name.

“Is that the only reason you’re sorry?” Iwhisper.

Antonio’s jaw tightens. His gaze flickers tomy mouth, then back to my eyes. “No.”

The air shifts, charged and heavy. He takes astep forward, closing the distance between us, his presence consuming. Mybreath hitches as he reaches out, his knuckles grazing my cheek in a touch solight it barely registers.

“I shouldn’t want you,” he murmurs, his voicethick, rough. “But I do.”

A shiver runs down my spine, my fingerscurling into the blanket as if it’s the only thing keeping me tethered. “Youmake it sound like it’s a terrible thing.”

“Isn’t it? You’re so young. So sweet. Soinnocent.”

“Old enough,” I whisper, turning my face intohis palm and kissing the center. His tightly held control surrounds me like ablanket of safety. It’s okay for me to be soft because he is so hard. It’s atruth I never faced, a need I didn’t know I had.

“We shouldn’t have kept you.”

It’s too nice a way to describe holding mehostage, but there is more for me to say.

“You rescued me from the auction… paid a highprice and didn’t take what you paid for.”

His eyes search my face as though he can’tbelieve what I’m saying. “That’s a kind way of putting it.”

“Maybe, but it’s the truth. Those other men—”

I don’t get the opportunity to finish becausehe interrupts me with a growl. “Those other men would have lost their hands andmore if they touched you.”

A shiver inexplicably runs up my spine. Ishouldn’t like the idea of Antonio’s violence against those who would hurt me,but I do. I never had a man to step in and protect me. I’ve been the strongestin my family since I reached double digits.

“I shouldn’t have…” His eyes drop lower likehe's thinking about what he did to me in the shower.

“I wanted you to,” I whisper. “I could havetold you no.”

“You think I’d have listened?”

“Yes,” I say simply. It’s true. He said,‘Tell me to stop.’He gave me a way out.

His eye lids drop, and I reach out to touchhis face; the rough place where his beard is trying to form, the soft skin ofhis cheek. This close, I notice the slight bump to his nose, the denseness ofhis dark brows, and the way his dark lashes frame his pale eyes.

“When you touch me…” His voice is lost to awhisper.

“When you touch me…”

His mouth finds mine like our lips possess aforce that will always bring them together. His hands slide to my waist,pulling me flush against him, and I melt into his touch, any resistance leavingmy body entirely.

We are heat and desperation tempered withtenderness and longing. His body arcs over mine like the sail of a ship,billowing in resistance to the wind, sheltering me against the dangers in life.

He’s dangerous, my mind whispers. Antonio Venturi is one of the most dangerous menin this city, but he’s like a highly trained security dog, only a danger to hisenemies, not me.

He pulls back, panting. “I shouldn’t—”

I cut him off, pressing my finger to hiskiss-swollen lips. “I want this. I want you. Please, Antonio.”

His expression softens, like he’d give me theworld if I asked, and my hands become needy and greedy, grabbing his muscledshoulders and back, the power in him thrilling me to my core. He eases me ontomy back, the springs in the old mattress creaking under the weight of himpressed into me. His hands find my wrists and grip them next to my ears as hestares down at me.

---