Dominic (Benedetti Brothers 2)

I ejected the flash drive from the computer and tucked it into my pocket then walked out into the foyer. Dominic stood just inside the door, his eyes looking as though he were a million miles away.

“Hey. You okay?” I asked.

“Why are you still up?”

“I was waiting for you. Thought you might need someone.”

He seemed confused by my answer.

Shadows darkened his eyes, and his hair looked as though he’d been running his hands through it for the last few hours. “You don’t look so good.”

“What are those?”

His gaze fell on the bags I’d packed and set at the bottom of the stairs.

“I figured we’d need clothes for the funeral.” I stood anxiously awaiting his response.

He studied me. “You can’t go.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“Scava will be there. Not to mention others who may be involved.”

“I’m not hiding. I already told you that. I’m going to use this as my debut.”

“A funeral for a debut.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “You are one twisted girl.”

“What difference does it make anyway? He’s going to find out day after tomorrow we’re MIA when I don’t turn up at the auction. What better place to confront him than publicly within his own community?”

“There’s more, Gia. More players. These are very dangerous men you’re talking about.”

“Ever hear of David and Goliath?”

“What are you going to do, take Victor Scava out with a slingshot?”

“Don’t laugh at me. It’s not always the biggest and the baddest who wins. I’m going to win this round, and I’m going to win this war.”

“I said no.” He turned to walk toward the kitchen.

I chased after him. “You don’t get to decide for me. Not anymore.”

“No, Gia. N. O.”

We walked into the kitchen, and I tugged his arm back, forcing him to stop. “You don’t get to tell me no. Not this time.” Anger fueled me. I would not stay back. No fucking way. “You know you owe me this. I have a right, Dominic.”

“You have every fucking right, but you’re going to get yourself killed. Let me go. I’m tired, and I’m hungry.”

“Well, there’s no food in this house that isn’t seven years old! Turn around and talk to me.” He freed his arm and opened the pantry door. “Look at me, damn it!”

“You don’t understand how these men work. The ruthlessness with which they kill.”

He kept his back to me, like he couldn’t care less.

Well, I’d make him care. “Like you, you mean?” I said, stepping backward as his body tensed before my eyes.

Dominic turned then, closing the space between us. He stood facing me, all his fury focused on me.

I forced myself to hold my ground even as my mind worked frantically, wishing to somehow call the words back the instant they’d spilled from my mouth.

He gripped me by the arms and walked me as far back as the counter. My heart raced, sending adrenaline-charged blood pounding in my ears.

This was scary Dominic. This was loose cannon, wild Dominic.

This was the Dominic that made me wet.

And he knew it.

I saw the change instantly, saw how one side of his mouth lifted into the smirk that said he knew his power, he read it on my face, he was used to it. Used to having women doing as he said. Used to them dropping to their knees before him.

Fuck him. I wouldn’t kneel for him. Not for any man. Not again.

Wrapping one hand around the back of my neck, he thrust his other one under my dress and roughly up between my legs to grip my sex.

“You talk like you have a dick,” he whispered. “But all I feel here is a dripping wet pussy.”

“You’re a sexist pig,” I said, swallowing hard.

“I think you like this. You like fighting with me. It makes you hot, doesn’t it, Gia?”

His grin grew wider, his cock hard at my belly while his hand began to work, fingers sliding inside my panties and finding my clit.

“Stop,” I managed.

“Were you like this with your boyfriends?”

His eyes darkened when he said it as his finger thrust painfully inside me.

“No. Never.”

“But you like it with me?”

I failed to contain the tremor that ran through me, but I forced myself not to look away. Not to let him win.

“You like it rough with me?”

He kneaded my clit, and I sucked in air. Fuck. I gripped his forearm, trying to pull his hand away.

“Stop.”

“Make me.”

He curled the hand at my neck into my hair and tugged my head backward.

“Make me stop, Gia.”

His voice came dangerously low, a warning.

A challenge.

I watched him, hating the weakening in my legs as he slid his now slippery fingers inside me.

“Look at you. You’re one woman. You’re no match for me, and I don’t have some twisted vendetta against you. How do you plan on fighting Scava’s army off?”

“I’m going,” I hissed through gritted teeth.