Page 68 of My Dark Fairy Tale
“Raffa,no.” She was suddenly fierce, pushing my hand back into my pocket. “Equals, remember? I’m not here for gifts and palaces.”
I stared at her implacably, waiting for her to take her hands from mine.
“I’m here for the sex,” she declared loud enough for Martina to snort Peroni through her nose. “If you must know.”
I pursed my lips to hide my smile and merely raised my brows until she sighed and let go. Only then did I lift my closed fist between us.
“This is a gift I bought for fifteen euro in a local shop,” I told her dryly. “But it is something I thought would be fitting for a girl whose nickname in America is Jinx.”
I turned my fist over and opened my palm to reveal the red coral pendant attached to a gold chain.
“This is acornicello. In the south, where my father was from, it is a good luck charm. There are many stories about how people came to wear them that date back to the Neolithic period, but my favorite is thatit was first derived from a crescent moon, for the goddess of the moon. She is also the goddess of the hunt, and her symbol has always been the deer. So what better lucky charm to give to my unlucky little fawn?”
Guinevere reached out tentatively, mouth open in a little moue as she touched the twisted coral horn with her pinky. “It’s beautiful, Raffa. And very, very sweet,” she teased, looking up at me with black-velvet eyes strewn with glitter.
I turned her around, so she would not see the way she affected me, and efficiently clipped the necklace around her throat. When she faced me, I could see that the pendant rested in the hollow of her throat.
“It’s your favorite color too,” she murmured, touching it against her skin. “I love it.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at her with blatant displeasure. “Really? I could not tell. Did we not talk about how I expect to be greeted just a few hours ago?”
She rolled her eyes, but there was no curbing her wide smile. She practicallysparkledwith happiness.
“Oh, I think I remember something about that. Let me ...” She braced a hand against my chest and rolled to the tips of her high heels, using her other hand to tug me down by the back of my hair when she still couldn’t reach. When her lips touched mine, I could feel the shape of her smile.
“Better?” she murmured.
“No.”
When she opened her mouth to speak, I sealed it shut with my own and kissed her the way I’d wanted to for the last two hours. I cupped her neck instead of her head so I did not ruin her hair and pressed my other hand to the base of her spine so I could tip her slightly over my arm and absolutely plunder her mouth. I could feel her knees weaken at the onslaught, the feathery moans of her pleasure like a siren’s song urging me to take her right there in the middle of the foyer.
It had been almost a week since I’d last really touched her, and every inch of me burned to teach her more, show her how explosive I knew it would be between us.
A harsh cough splintered the moment.
“Ah, now you arereallyrunning late,” Martina called out with faux helpfulness.
“Togliti di torno.” I told her mildly to fuck off, and both Martina and Guinevere laughed.
“So,” Guinevere asked after I’d helped her into my Lamborghini and she had rolled her eyes at my excess. “What is the charity we are raising money for tonight?”
“For the museum itself. There are ongoing construction and restoration for a building constructed in the sixteenth century.”
“Fair enough. You don’t seem like the kind of man who would enjoy events like this.”
“I am not.” In fact, I tried to send Martina or Carmine in my place whenever I could. I rarely even visited Florence proper, running most of my business from Villa Romano and traveling through the north as needed.
“Then why are we going to this one?”
“Two reasons. The first is that I have not made an appearance in Florentine society in some time, and it is a beast that requires at least infrequent feeding. There will be many people there I should rub elbows with. Even then, I might have canceled last minute if it were not for my second reason.” I slid a hand over her thigh and squeezed. “Seeing you in that dress, and later, seeing you out of it.”
Her laugh was light and as frothy as overflowing champagne. “Raffa, trust me, you do not need to take me to a gala to see me naked.”
“No?” I arched a brow.
“No,” she said firmly, linking her hand with mine. “Honestly, I think if you snapped your fingers and looked at me in that way you do sometimes like I am prettier than Botticelli’s Venus, I would do almost anything you asked.”
“Even though you are a virgin?” I asked, despite never having explicitly spoken about her sexual history.
