Page 5 of The Italian's Pregnant Enemy (A Diamond in the Rough)

“The anti-Christ came forth to usher in the end of days?” she asked, sweetly. She thought. A joke, obviously.

“I have not seen any locusts about recently. Though, it may be because of the weather.”

“Hmm. Indeed. Locusts are notoriously snow-shy.” They stood there in the hall, regarding each other.

Her stomach tightened, her chest getting heavy. It was almost impossible to breathe. Because she hated him so much. So, so much. It was always like this and it never got better. If anything, he had gotten worse in the last couple years.

He was so arrogant.

So tall. It was infuriating. His shoulders were so...so broad and his hands were so big. And she didn’t like any of it.

“Thank you,” she said, pointedly.

“You do not wish me to place the bag in your room? I know you’re accustomed to a full-service life.”

She scoffed. “As if you aren’t at this point.”

It had probably been years since he’d had to see to his own needs. He probably had a driver to drive him in a car and a butler to brush his teeth and a woman to...

Well.

Whatever. She wasn’t going to follow that thought up.

She knew full well what women thought of Dario. If there was an event, and he was there, he was sure to have a beautifully polished woman on his arm. A model, an actress, an influencer, a high-society maven, as long as she looked nice in couture.

He didn’t have any trouble pulling the kind of woman who looked effortlessly at ease on his arm.

He didn’t respond to her jab, which was annoying. They’d had a pretty good streak going. Instead he opened the bedroom door without her permission and brought her bags inside.

She slipped into the room and realized her mistake immediately. The feeling that had been throbbing between them in the hall—the hatred, that’s what it was—seemed to expand in here, making it impossible to think, let alone breathe or make a normal facial expression.

He said nothing. He only looked at her. The stark lines of his chiseled face seeming more pronounced just suddenly. Like he was taller, suddenly. Broader, suddenly.

Closer, suddenly.

“All right,cara?”

“Yes,” she said, her throat scratchy.

Suddenly, she didn’t even want to needle him. She just wanted him out of her space.

And she would have it. Tomorrow, she would arrange to have herself moved to a room in the chalet. She was going to finish this job, because as much as she wanted to fly back to Manhattan so she could go ahead and complete her Carter mission, she couldn’t let her father think she was putting her personal life over her work. Even if sending Dario to supervise her was an insult.

If she wanted to girl boss her way out of mediocrity, she had to prioritize work when the opportunities came her way.

But she would get in touch with him and make a date for when she got away from here.

“Thanks, Dario,” she said.

She hoped the definitive thanks would give him the hint to get on his way.

“Anything for you, of course, Lyssia.”

He was mocking her, obviously.

She didn’t return volley.

He turned and walked out of the room and left her there to look around the space. It was a lovely room. Big picture windows looked out over the snow. The bright white reflecting beautiful, clean light all around. The bed was modern, low and on a platform, with a white bedspread. The rug right next to a modern, glass fireplace was white reindeer hide, with pale bamboo flooring beneath.

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