Page 54 of Pietro
The command in his voice makes me want to defy him just to prove I can. .
"And what about you?" I ask, hating how breathless I sound. "Going to finish your date with Barbie?"
A cruel smile curves his lips. "Jealous, bambina?"
"You wish."
He leans closer, his breath hot against my ear. "When I finally fuck you—and I will—I'm going to make you come so hard you forget your own name. I'll have you begging, screaming, clawing at my back for more." His teeth graze my earlobe. "And after I'm done, you'll never look at another man again."
My entire body shivers, as his words paint vivid pictures in my mind. I hate my reaction, hate how much I want what he's promising.
"You're so sure of yourself," I whisper.
"I'm sure of us." He pulls back, his expression unreadable again.
He releases me abruptly, stepping away and straightening his jacket. Without another word, he walks out, leaving me trembling against the sink.
What the hell was that?
I stare at my reflection. Cheeks flushed, lipstick smudged, eyes too bright. I look like a woman who's been thoroughly kissed, even though his lips never touched mine. I splash cold water on my face, reapply my lipstick with shaking hands, and try to pull myself together.
When I return to the dining room, Pietro's table is empty. He and his date have vanished, leaving only a half-empty wine glass as evidence they were ever there. The relief I feel is embarrassing.
Mark stands when I approach, his smile faltering as he takes in my expression. "Everything okay? You were gone for a while."
"I'm sorry, but I don't think I'm feeling well." The lie comes easily, guilt following close behind. Mark doesn't deserve this. "I think I need to go home."
Concern replaces his disappointment. "Of course. Is it something you ate? Do you need me to take you to a doctor?"
"No, just... a headache. Coming on suddenly." I press my fingers to my temple for effect. "I'm really sorry about this."
"Don't apologize." He signals for the check. "Your health comes first."
While Mark pays the bill, I text Josh to bring the car around. The cool night air helps clear my head when we step outside, but Pietro's words still echo in my ears.
"I had a nice time, despite the early ending," Mark says, his hand hovering near my elbow without touching me. "Maybe we could try again sometime when you're feeling better?"
"Maybe," I say, knowing we won't. Not because of Pietro's threats, but because it wouldn't be fair to Mark. Not when I can't stop thinking about someone else.
Josh pulls up to the curb, and I turn to Mark with an apologetic smile. "Goodnight, Mark. Thank you for understanding."
"Feel better, Nora."
I slide into the backseat, exhaling slowly as the door closes behind me.
PIETRO
I pace my bedroom, checking my watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. Josh texted an hour ago that Nora had arrived safely at the estate. Alone. Good.
The memory of her pressed against the bathroom sink, her body responding to mine despite her defiance, burns through me. I shouldn't have followed her. Shouldn't have touched her. But seeing her with that accountant made something primal snap inside me.
I grab my phone and type out a message:
Meet me in the library in 10 minutes.
Simple. Direct. Not a request.
Her response comes faster than I expect:
