Page 28 of The Proposal

“I’ll leave on one condition.”

I eye him sceptically. “And that condition is?”

“You give me a kiss.”

This time, I laugh. “Nice try, hotshot, but I am definitely not kissing you.”

He widens his stance, crossing his arms over his broad chest. His posture is firm and unyielding, exerting his power and control. “Then I’ll stay right where I am.”

I throw my hands in the air. “Non riesco a capacitarmi di tutto questo, è come un incubo(I can’t believe all this, it’s like a nightmare)!”

“Do you have any idea how sexy you are when you’re angry?”

“Ugh.”

“You can resist all you want, but I’m not moving until I get my kiss.”

This man is infuriating, and I swear he takes pleasure in pushing my buttons. “You’re a thug.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “A thug? That’s a little harsh,Bellezza. All I want is a kiss. A thug would want more than that.”

My cheeks balloon as I blow out a frustrated breath. “Fine.”

I push up on my toes, and as I go to place a half-hearted peck on his cheek, he turns his face at the last second, connecting our lips.

I should pull away and fight these crazy feelings I’m having, but my heart is starving for what he can give me. I may not agree with his lifestyle and everything it represents, but I like how he makes me feel.

I think I may even like him… a little.

Apart from the occasional hug from my sister, I’ve been deprived of affection for years … ever since I lost my mother.

That’s probably why Dante Mancini overwhelms me like he does. I’m used to pushing my emotions down, pretending I don’t need anyone. But every touch, every kind word, is like a breath I didn’t know I was holding.It confuses me.I feel like I’ve been living in a dark room for years, and suddenly, someone—namely him—opened a window and shrouded me with light.

I drop the pasta wheel in my hand, and it lands on the tiles below with a ting as I reach for his tie, wrapping my fingers around it and yanking him closer.

It’s forceful and very unladylike.

This man brings out a side of me I never knew existed. A side that has been yearning to break free for years. A person my father never would’ve allowed me to be. His words from this morning have been running rampant in my head all day.“You don’t need to be anything but yourself around me.”

I’m not sure if I even know the real me anymore.

“Arabella,” he breathes as he buries his long fingers in my hair, tilts my head slightly to the side, and deepens the kiss. I part my lips, unsure of what to do. The only experience I’ve had with kissing is what I’ve seen in the movies.

His touch is firm but gentle, guiding me as if he knows exactly what I need without me having to say a word. He’s showing me the perfect rhythm … the perfect pressure. He’s not just kissing me; he’s teaching me. It’s so damn hot I feel moisture flood my underwear as my toes curl in my shoes.

This isn’t as rushed as I expected. His movements are calculated and deliberate, like he’s savouring every moment …savouring me.

The instant he pulls away, I feel the loss, but then I realise it’s just enough to let me breathe before he dives right back in to kiss me again. This time, his pace is slower, allowing me to follow his lead. It’s intense … intoxicating. And with each expert move, I feel myself falling a little further.

This man is everything I swore I’d never want—he’s wrong in every sense of the word—but he’s addictive, pulling me deeper and deeper into his web. I don’t know what I’ll find when I reach the centre, and that uncertainty scares me the most.

A part of me wonders if it’s worth the risk to find out.

I’m lying on the floor beside Dante’s bed, staring up at the ceiling, and it’s safe to say I’m absolutely fuming. It has nothing to do with the kiss either … it’s what came after that had me wanting to stab him with a fork.

When the kiss finally ended, leaving me hot and bothered, he left the kitchen as promised. Half an hour later, we sat opposite each other at the dining table and ate dinner. Theentire time, he kept staring at me with a look so intense my heart was racing. It was like he was more interested in eating me than the food in front of him. And boy, I wanted that too.

I was eager to get the food out of the way to see where the rest of the evening would take us. I was silently hoping for another lesson in kissing, but as soon as he finished his meal, he calmly wiped his mouth with the napkin, stood, thanked me for dinner, and told me he was going out with his men to celebrate his new position.

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