Page 40 of Devilish Prince

LORENZO

Color swatches and invitation samples lie strewn about on the table that bridges the gulf between me and Sofia. She sits with her knees curled to her chest, staring out the large picture window. The view is exquisite, stretching down the hillside across the gardens and fountains that speckle them. Her dark hair is mussed, unbrushed for the past week, and she refuses to wear anything other than the outfit she wore here.

It's a shame really, because I’ve provided her with only the best wardrobe money can buy, and fitted to her body perfectly too. This moping and obstinance will end soon enough, because I will make it so.

“Please select which fabric you like best for your dress so we can move forward.” Adelina tries again in vain to get Sofia to speak up and I’ve had my fill of her silent treatment.

“I choose the white satin. It’s traditional and her creamy complexion will warm substantially. Don’t you think?” The wedding planner looks up at my words and mutters a breath of protest before she responds.

“Sir, the bride typically chooses the dress herself.” Adelina’s cheeks warm, and she forces a polite smile.

“Usually, that is correct.” I sit forward and push my jacket open in front so it doesn’t wrinkle. “If Sofia will not choose, I will choose for her.”

Adelina nods and avoids eye contact. She is the best wedding planner in Rome, and though I will spare no expense, I may terminate her for simple ignorance. People do their homework when signing up to work with me. It doesn’t matter that I’m in Rome; my reputation precedes me. Or it should.

“Sofia, I’m not asking again. Sit up, or you’ll regret your choice to sulk.”

Sofia glares at me but her legs unfurl and her bare toes touch the ground. The shirt she wears, a light pink blouse, is wrinkled. Her eyes are cradled by puffy bags from lack of sleep. In New York she had the liberty of stealing a car and driving away. Here, on my home turf, she knows no one, and can go nowhere without being tracked. Even if she discerned a way to escape, I’d find her in moments. I am king here.

She curls her arms around her middle and hangs her head. I’m not amused.

“We can do this another time if you’re not feeling well.” Adelina begins collecting the swatches and cards and I hold a hand out to stop her.

“We have no more time. We are set to wed in four days.”

“But, sir…”

I glare at her and she freezes, her hand shaking. Sofia’s active refusal to be a part of planning our nuptials enrages me and this woman is about to get the brunt of it.

“I’m not marrying you, Lorenzo.” Sofia turns to the wedding planner and says, “You can go. We don’t need your services anymore.”

Before she even has the words out of her mouth, I’m on my feet and around the table. I grip her hair tightly, forcing her to her feet. She whimpers and whines, clawing at my lapels as she stands next to me trembling.

“Ms. Riccio, we need a moment.” My eyes stay glued to Sofia’s face as Adelina drops the swatches and scurries from the room. All I see is red, my vision colored with the blood I’d like to spill right now. I can feel her breath on my cheek and I can practically hear her pulse racing through her neck, like a little bunny whose life I’m close to snatching.

“I hate you.”

“I don’t care.” I shove her down hard and she topples to the couch behind her. Her pink cheeks match the hue of the flowers on the upholstery. “This isn’t a game. Unless you want to end up like Norman, you will do as I say.”

“You’re saying you’ll murder me? What? Slit my throat if I don’t say I do? You want to do that?” A hasty hand swipes across her face, shoving the hair away and I bring my hand down hard across her cheek. Her head whips to the side and blood drops to the sofa below, coloring the flowers in a darker shade of red.

“I’m saying, I get what I want when I want it, and if you don’t give it to me. You will be punished.”

She whimpers again and covers her face, and there is just something about her posture that turns me on. Her refusal to submit to me gets my juices going because I know how much she likes it when I dominate her.

“Fuck you,” she mutters, not looking up at me, and I grab a handful of her hair to make her look at me. Rage shimmers out of her eyes behind the tears of pain.

“You will…” I look up at the door and call out, “Adelina, we’re ready for you.” This is the perfect opportunity to remind Sofia who is in charge and why she will be marrying me regardless of her protests, and at the same time, teach Adelina why working with me is dangerous.

“I have to get back to New York. Calvin needs to be in that trial. It starts in ten days.” Sofia grips my wrist but I don’t relinquish my hold on her.

“Calvin is going to rot in that bed if you keep refusing to do as I say.” I feel my cock swelling before I even have the zipper down.

“Shit… What are you doing?” Sofia scratches at my arm, squirming on the couch to get away and I tighten my grip.

Adelina steps into the room, trembling, and Lord appears behind her, nudging her forward. Her eyes go wide as I pull my dick from my pants and stroke it, and she turns in haste to retreat, but Lord is there, blocking her path.

“Come sit…” I order, turning my attention to Sofia.

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