Page 65 of Hostile Secret
Her tiny hand smothers my wrist, and her short nails continue to dig into my skin, helplessly trying to free the merciless hold I have on her.
I’m too far gone in the darkness to feel the scratches. My grip makes it difficult for her to swallow, until the second she finally surrenders and I release the pressure.
In that moment, bold blue eyes narrow on my face and her hand slaps my face. “Of course, this isn’t a thing, Giovanni. I’m not into you. Why would I be when I absolutely fuckinghateyou?”
If she hits me again, I’d likely lose myself in the darkness. Too many years of blocking out emotions have left me numb inside. I have a brutal history, shrouded in bloodshed and destruction.
None of those deaths haunt me because I was trained to excel in that existence.
But watching her rub that proud neck of hers where red marks cover her windpipe, I find myself battling an emotion I rarely endure––regret.
“We’re done here.” I ignore the sting on my cheek, stuff my dick away, shove my gun into its holster, and grab my jacket.
I storm toward the exit, my mood a destructive hurricane, unequipped to deal with a guilty conscience. Every whisper and thought in my head warns me not to look back at her.
Despite myself, I can’t help it. I do it and immediately my stomach churns at the sight of her pretty face wrinkled into an indignant scowl.
It wasn’t my intention to unravel, or to let my self-control get away from me, but she brings out a side of me I don’t understand.
There’s no place for weakness in my life and the one exception I’ve made to that rule is protected twenty-four seven. Though there’s no way I’d reveal that secret to anyone. Not even to India.
I didn’t choose the life I was born into, but it is my destiny. And there’s no room for her.
“You have an appointment to attend soon.” I inform her. “Meet me in the car. And don’t try anything stupid.”
19
INDIA
We sat in silence for the whole journey. I stared out the car window, hating myself for a failed attempt at seduction, and Giovanni kept his eyes on the road, his jaw ticking.
“A private medical clinic?” I frown at the sign. “Why did you bring me here?”
“Contraception.” He deadpans.
“I can get it at the drugstore.” I unclip my seatbelt when he parks the Tesla near the entrance. “Anyway, now you’ve learned how much I hate you… what’s the point?” I shrug, my eyes burning into his perfectly proportioned side profile with the sexy facial scar.
Damn, it’s cruel how gorgeous this man is.
He thumbs the parking brake, twists his torso, and leans into my face. “Hate fucks are the best. We both get what we need and there’s no confusion afterwards.”
I raise my chin a little, his words pissing me off even more. “What is it you need, Giovanni? You could have any woman out there. Why torture me?”
“Torture?” He chuckles, his green eyes glowing with amusement. “You have no idea what torture really is.”
I shiver at how he says it. Equally suggestive, as it is threatening.
“You came on to me first, remember?” He points out. “I haven’t exactly chosen you.
You’re conveniently right under my nose… and no one can stop me now that you’re of age.”
My phone beeps from deep inside my bag. “Excuse me.” I press my hand to his chest and push. “That’s probably your brother messaging me. I’d rather talk to him right now.”
A menacing scowl passes over his features. I reach into the footwell, grab my bag, and open the car door.
“Let’s get this over with.” I glance back at him.
He gets out of the car and joins my side, resting his hand on my lower back, his gaze trained on my cell phone screen. The message is from Letterman, including a photograph of me, him, and Reno, taken two years ago in Miami.
