Page 25 of Scorned Obsession

When we arrived at the top, Sandro caged me against the wall.

A startled yelp escaped me, and I glared at him. “Sandro, what the hell?”

He pressed his body against mine, surprising me, my eyes going wide. Initially, I ignored how our bodies had smashed up in the kitchen, but there was no way to ignore this now. Tension and heat rolled off him. His fingers dug into my shoulders, but I was too caught up staring at the raw feralness etched on his features.

“Are you saying you want me to fuck you?”

My mouth fell open. Sandro was a series of out-of-character shocks this evening. Forget sexual innuendos, the crudeness with how he said those words unsettled me. Who was this man? This stranger? But what he said pissed me off. “Why are you doing this?”

“There’s no halfway, little girl. I’m trying to give you space. To get used to the idea of being my wife, but if you insist on running that mouth and taunting me… Like I said earlier, I can think of a better use for it.”

“Are you saying this is going to be real?”

His face inched closer, his mouth a millimeter from mine. “Let’s find out.”

“I…” My gaze swept downwards. Once upon a time I would have seized his jaw and kissed him. But my fury from the last few days, this forced marriage that obliterated my childhood dreams, and, most of all, the image of Renz’s bloodied chest, sent a repulsive wave of nausea up my throat.

“No, thanks.”

Sandro reeled back, and a wariness stole the determination from his face.

That’s right, Sandro Rossi. I’m forever over you.

“What? Am I supposed to be grateful you married me?”

“I saved you from marrying Gian.”

My hatred slightly abated. “I’m thankful for that. But let’s not make this marriage sound like it’s what either of us wanted. Or even pretend it’s normal.”

He studied my face, but I refused to look away. His jaw hardened, and finally, he stepped back and I lost the heat of his body. He walked down the hallway. “I’ll show you to your room.”

My room. Not ours. Was it too soon to feel relief?

We stopped in front of a door. “This is yours.” He pointed to the room on the left.

He regarded me thoughtfully. “We’ve known each other a long time, and it’s not the first time we’ve slept together but?—”

“That’s different!” I snapped. “And it wasn’t on a bed.” It was usually on his sleeper sofa when we were doing movie marathons.

“But,” he repeated. “We’re both going to get a good night’s sleep.” He raked a hand down his face, frustration evident in his expression. Well, I was only getting started. I would make him so frustrated he would beg my family to take me back.

“I’m sure we both need it and then we’re going to discuss what the fuck we’re doing,” he said.

“Sounds good to me.”

He checked his phone. “That’s Tommy. Your dad and Nico are at the hospital and are with Renz.”

I didn’t realize how bogged down I was with Renz’s condition. It was as if it had entombed my entire being in a quicksand of anxiety and I had finally taken my first step out. I exhumed that anxiety with a ragged exhale, but fresh worries soon crept into its place. “When can I talk to my family?”

“It’ll be a while.”

“Is this the three weeks your uncle is talking about?”

He gave a brief nod.

“Some kind of indoctrination into the Rossi crime family?”

“No,” Sandro said. “He wants to see Cesar De Lucci squirm.”

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