Page 36 of The Bonventi War
Gio puts his hands up. "I know. I don't know too much about women's clothing, so I had my driver speak with a stylist at the store. Said I wanted something nice for you, and well, there you go."
"It's very nice, but it's too much," I protest. "I don't own anything like that."
His eyes darken. "Well you do now."
I look at Gio, my emotions a tangled mess. Part of me wants to run as far away from this dangerous man as possible. But another part...
"Thank you," I say softly, looking down. "For saving me."
Gio's eyes soften slightly, but his jaw remains tense. He nods once, accepting my gratitude without a word.
I take a deep breath. "So, what does this mean now? Where do we go from here?"
Gio's face turns stoic and unreadable. "Well, the Russians are going to take your answer as no, so they'll try to intimidate—and a whole lot worse."
I nod. I think of my father, beaten and broken in that warehouse, and even though I am upset at him for trying to sell me out, there's a part of me—the daughter part or maybe the weaker part—that wants to protect him. To help him.
"What would happen if I say yes? Will my dad and I be okay?"
"I won't allow it," Gio says without skipping a beat, his voice firm like steel.
Something inside me snaps. "You won't allow it?" I repeat, feeling that familiar rage building. The same rage when someone tries to control my life or make decisions for me.
And even though I recognize the irony—that I'm fighting about being forced to become a Russian's mistress with a person who'snot making me do it—it's just the fact that it's him, and he's making a decision for me, that's making my defenses light up.
I feel my fight-or-flight senses kick in, and I need to get off this bed. I stand abruptly, the room spinning for a moment before I steady myself against the nightstand.
"Seriously?"
Gio looks up at me, his eyebrows lifting slightly. "Are you getting upset over this?"
"Well, shit." I shrug. "I mean, again, without me making a choice." The words tumble out of me, sharp and angry even though I know I'm not being rational.
"Sit down before you hurt yourself," he commands, but I don't listen. "I just thought—" Gio continues, but I cut him off.
"Sure you did," I spit out. My hands are shaking, and I clench them into fists. "You just thought you'd make another decision for me, right? Because clearly, I can't be trusted to make my own choices."
The rational part of my brain knows he's trying to protect me, but right now, that knowledge only fuels my frustration. I'm tired of men thinking they know what's best for me, tired of being a pawn in their games. I need to always stand up for myself, or people will walk all over me.
Gio jumps to his feet and towers over me. His eyes flash with anger, his jaw muscles twitching with frustration. I take an involuntary step back, my chest tightening slightly.
"I told you, you're mine to protect," he growls. "You're mine. End of story. I will not allow you to be with anyone right now exceptfor me. So fuck it if you think otherwise," he says, pointing to his chest. "I'm your protector."
Each mine makes my blood boil hotter until something inside me explodes. Before I can process what I'm doing, my hand flies through the air, and my palm connects with his cheek in a hard hit that stings my hand.
Shit, I just slapped him.
I feel like time freezes. I've never hit anyone before, let alone a mobster who kills people without hesitation. I find it hard to breathe as the reality of what I've just done crashes over me.
Then a surge of adrenaline courses through my veins as I brace myself for what he's about to do. My mind goes through all the possible scenarios—none of them good. I half expect him to strike me back, to grab me, choke me, hell, maybe even kill me. My body tenses, ready for anything.
But Gio doesn't move. His head remains turned slightly from the force of my slap. His green eyes blaze with an emotion I've never seen before, and everything shifts. The air between us feels like it disappears.
In one swift motion, he grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls it back. The sudden movement makes me gasp, my scalp stinging from the pressure. But instead of fear, heat courses through my body. He pulls me close, and I slam up against his rock-hard chest.
"You. Are. Mine," he growls, and then, my world changes.
His lips crash into mine, hard and demanding. The kiss is nothing like I had dreamed about, and God help me, it's even better. It's possessive, brutal, hungry, desperate, and more. It'slike nothing I've ever experienced before. His mouth demands, takes, conquers. I taste him, and my body reacts like it's a drug. I want more. I need more.
