Page 14 of Stealing Her Heart
“What is your very favorite thing to eat?” I ask as we stand in front of the big double door fridge in the corner of my kitchen. I barely use the space but thinking about coming home to her making meatballs or ziti makes my heart swell.
“Tiramisu,” she answers with a cheeky grin. “Or carbonara.”
“Lucky thing I have what we need for both. Come on, princess, let’s do some cooking.”
Taking out all that we need, we go to work together. It comes to us with ease. We chop garlic and bacon, boil water, and discuss the importance of freshly made pasta even as we toss in boxed stuff. We move with one another as if we have done it a hundred times. I have never cooked with someone besides my mother, so it is yet another brand-new thing for me.
Sitting at the table with piles of some delicious looking carbonara, we talk about football—we love the same team, the Hawks—music, her favorite book about handsome aliens who breed their brides, and how much she hates the idea of going back to her father’s place.
Pulling her from her seat to set her on my lap, I let her pout for a moment. It is too adorable to tell her to stop. “It won’t be for long. I am working on setting you free, just as I promised. With your father promising you to Marconi...it complicates things.”
“How does it complicate things? I do not want him. I want you. I do not love him. I....”
Bowing her head, she sniffles as a tear slips down her cheek. Jesus, it is killing me to deny her. To deny us both. I am a ruthless man who has never taken the cautious route. I am being careful for her. I cannot start a war against her fatheror Marconi without first aligning myself with the other families. Still, sending her back there, letting them think for even one moment that they have control of her kills me.
“Princess, look at me,” I demand, my gut twisting when her head pops up, her face streaked with sadness, her eyes defiant. “I have to protect you. If I do this, if I steal you out from underneath Marconi, it would be cause for a war. Baby, I will start a war for you, I wouldn’t even think twice. I would slice his fucking throat for even looking at you. That motherfucker better never come to your bedroom again,” I hiss as I shake with anger.
Between bites of carbonara, she mentioned his visit to her earlier. I had my guard watching her place, so I knew. It still incenses me. That he could ever think he has a right to her. That bastard does not even have the right to share the same air as her, let alone be in the once space she calls hers.
“What...I mean what do you mean by...if you do this? I thought...”
“Oh, baby, don’t. There is no if. No perhaps. I am doing this. We’re doing this,” I correct myself, tipping her head back gently. “Unless you tell me now you do not want me. That you don’t want me to make the moves it will take to have you. I said you had a choice. Make it now.”
Scrambling on my lap, she shakes as she presses her lips to mine. I cradle her close, opening my mouth to her eager tongue. I slip her robe open just so I can feel her skin on mine. Standing, I head back towards the bedroom. Lying her down, I push the robe off as I pin her beneath me.
“I want you, Gabriel. Nothing else. No one else.”
“You have me, princess. No one has ever had me the way you do. No one else ever will, even if you choose someone or something else. I might kill any other man you choose...” I tease her though I mean every fucking word.
“You gave me a choice. No one else ever has. I made it. Icame to you. I want you. I choose you,” she breathes before I slam my mouth to hers, sealing both of our fates.
There will be a war for her. Not because they care about her the way I do. But because their alliance will be shaken. Marconi and Bianchi make up two of the five families. I can make Bianchi bend to my will because I will have his daughter. Marconi will prove more difficult. Until, of course, I have spoken to the other families.
That is why I have to send her back to her father. I have to do it right. Well, as right as starting a war ever could be. I will make the other three families align themselves with me. They will fall in line, or I will slaughter them all. I have blazed a fiery path in my time as capo—just a strike of a match could burn the whole fucking thing down.
All I need is a little time—something that I am running out of. Gianna has no idea our clock is ticking—because her wedding is just days away.
Chapter Eight
Gianna
Snuggling against the cherry scented warm, I am in bliss.
Until I reach for the big, warm body that should be there. It was there last I checked, cuddled with me in his big, luscious bed. Stretching my legs out, my heart stops before taking off at an alarming rate. Sitting up, it takes me a moment to figure out where I am.
I am not in Gabriel’s luscious bed. Not in his arms. Not even in his penthouse. I am back at my own prison, in my tiny, cold bed, all alone. I try to remember how I got here. Who put me to bed in this too-big shirt? Bringing the collar to my nose, I inhale with relief. It’s him. Gabriel.
However he did it, he got me back home sometime in the night. The very last place I want to be. I told him I never wanted to come back here. He swore to me he was setting me free. Yet he tucked me back inside the goddamn cage as if I am a pet he can take out whenever he chooses.
Last night was the most magical night of my life. I thought it was the night we met but I was wrong. We had made dinner together after the sweetest, hottest shower of my life. Afterwards, he held me in his bed as we talked about dreams for hours. Flushing, I recall him working his big body between my thighs, his mouth licking, sucking and eating my pussy for what felt like hours as I came and came and came.
Reaching down, I touch the red rashes left by his beard. Trace the indentations his teeth made at my thighs, my hips, just above my pussy. I was owned by him last night before he gave me up as if none of it ever happened. As if it were just another of my stupid dreams.
Pouting, I stomp from my too-small bed to get some things together. I am done with the men in my life. Done with all of them telling me who I belong to, who I owe what to, and who gets to decide my future. I throw things inside a leather duffel bag with shaking hands. Pulling on some jeans and a sweatshirt, I climb out of my window as I have a dozen times.
“He won’t even know you left,” I whisper to myself as I see the familiar blacked out SUV where I am sure Stefan waits to follow me.
I have shaken enough bodyguards in my life. I slide down the roof for a few feet before hooking my foot on the trellis leading to the back yard. Out there the gardens are high and thick, and I can sneak through a break in one of the towering, thick hedges. Sliding on the dirt once I reach the edge of the property, I glance back once.
