Page 51 of Ruthless King
“I won’t leave it alone when it interferes with your head in the game. Did you forget we just burned half a million worth of Chinese Triad coke? Retribution is coming, and it’s going to get ugly. I need you at your best.”
“I’m always at my best,” I growl.
“No, you’ve been different lately. I didn’t know what it was until I saw you two dancing tonight. It’s her, she’s screwing with your head. So just fuck her and get on with it.”
“She means nothing to me,” I hiss. “She’s business, and that’s all you need to know.”
A sharp intake of air spins my head around. Stella stands in the hallway with a bag of ice in her hand, and a look in her eye that’ll haunt me tonight. Betrayal. Anger. Pain. It lances through me so acute I stagger back a step.
She tosses the ice at Dante and darts past us.
“Stella, wait.” I reach for her, but she’s too damned fast. And pissed. She’s halfway down the hall by the time I realize she just disobeyed me, in front of my brother, nonetheless.
My legs compel me forward, to chase after her, but I can’t. Not with Dante staring down at me with that smug smile. “Right, just business,fratellino.”
Shooting him a glare, I tear the bag of ice from his hand. “I hope it bruises.”
His laughter follows me down the corridor, echoing behind me even after I slam my door shut.
Fuck. What have I done?
CHAPTER24
BREAKFAST IN BED
Stella
Ugh. I look likemerda. Staring at my reflection in the bathroom, I run my finger over the dark, puffy skin beneath my eyes.She means nothing to me. Luca’s words ping-pong across my mind. I swallow hard and shove back the unwanted emotions, focusing on my weary reflection. The ugly swelling isnota result of crying myself to sleep last night. No, I would never shed a tear for thatbastardo. It’s gotta be allergies or something respectable like that.
Hiking up my towel, my gaze catches on the patch of mottled purple skin at the base of my neck. Heat races below my navel, and I squeeze my eyes shut as memories of the Heart Ball flit to the surface. Luca’s firm arms around my waist, holding me against his chest as we danced. That wicked tongue flicking over my clit until I had the best orgasm of my life. And those lips on my neck, claiming me, as we stood in front of the mirror together. For a second, for a stupid, stupid minute I was happy. I thought that we could actually have something.
Dio, I am so messed up.
How could I ever dream of wanting anything other than freedom from this man?
A soft knock at the bedroom door has my heart tripping on a beat. I skulk out of the bathroom and pad across the plush carpeting. I stop at the door, awareness prickling the hair at the back of my neck. I don’t need to open it to know who’s standing on the other side. Somehow, I can feel him. His spicy scent invades my nostrils, seeping through the cracks in the door, but I refuse to let it crack my defenses.
I draw in a steadying breath. “What?” I bark.
“Um, it’s me. I have breakfast.”
I eye the calendar on the wall, the one on which I’ve been marking off the days since my arrival. Today is Sunday, Magda’s day off. My heart kicks at my ribs, and my hand closes around the knob.
I’ve never seen Luca set foot in the kitchen other than to reach for whatever Magda offered him. Did he actually make breakfast? I waffle for another minute until curiosity trumps the anger, and I twist the handle before I lose my nerve.
The door swings open, and Luca leans against the doorjamb holding a tray of assorted fruit and Italian pastries, looking unfairly sexy wearing only low-slung sweatpants. Black ink sneaks out from beneath the white bandage still criss-crossing his chest and shoulder, the intricate patterns drawing my eye down his carved abs. Then further down to the deep V that disappears into his waistband like an arrow directing my twitchy fingers. My traitorous clit begins to throb, and I squeeze my thighs together to quell the unwanted surge of heat.
“Good morning, princess.”
“Morning,” I mutter, injecting ice into my tone. I will not let that smoldering gaze erase the memories of his words last night. I meant nothing to him. I was just business.
I needed the reminder.
Forcing my eyes off his body and onto the tray, my gaze settles on thecannoli,sfogliatelle calda, andcornettowith Nutella oozing out. My stomach lets out an embarrassing growl, and warmth floods my cheeks.
“Breakfast in bed?” He jerks his chin toward the tangle of sheets.
“I’m not hungry,” I grate out.
