The Last Di Sione Claims His Prize (The Billionaire's Legacy 8)

She blinked, her heart suddenly beating faster. Stupid heart. He didn’t want her. He didn’t even like her. “I’m not trying to be.”

“I’m sure that’s true.”

“You can let go of my arm now,” she said, looking down at where he was still hanging on to her.

“What if I told you I didn’t want to?”

“I would ask you why. And then I would ask you what good could possibly come of it.”

Her heart was pounding so hard now she could barely hear herself speak. If he couldn’t hear her heartbeat she would be surprised.

“You’re right. There is no point. As I already told you, I’m not interested in defiling any maidens this week.”

She pulled herself out of his grasp and continued on down the path. “Who said I was a maiden?” She closed her eyes for a second, allowing the sun to wash over her face, the corners of her lips curving up slightly into a smile.

“You didn’t have to say it,” he said. “I could feel it in your kiss.”

Her stomach sank down to her toes and she opened her eyes again, the corners of her lips falling. “Was it so terrible?”

Of course it had been.

“Not terrible. Inexperienced. I could taste it on your skin.”

“That’s ridiculous. Inexperience doesn’t have a flavor.”

He grabbed hold of her arm again, turned her to face him, drawing her closely toward him. Rather than speeding up, this time her heart stopped beating altogether. He lowered his head slightly, then reached up, sliding his thumb along the edge of her lip. “Yes, Gabriella, inexperience absolutely has a flavor. And on your lips, there was also innocence and wildflowers. I did not mistake the taste of any of that.”

He released his hold on her, put distance between them, and she still couldn’t breathe any easier.

“You didn’t taste like anything,” she said.

“That’s because you didn’t taste me.”

Prickles crawled up her back like an army of ants and she hunched her shoulders up around her ears, lowering her head and continuing on toward the estate.

“Suddenly, you don’t seem to like honesty very much,” he said.

“Suddenly, you’re a bit too honest. You said—”

“I am bad at behaving, and I am terrible at restraint. Tell me you didn’t like kissing me, and I won’t bring it up again.”

It would be easy to lie. All she had to do was open her mouth and tell him that she didn’t like kissing him. That should be an easy thing to do. It should be a simple thing to make her lips form those words. But right now everything felt stuck. The words lodged in the center of her throat, curled up into a little ball, refusing to budge.

She said nothing; she just kept walking on ahead.

If he was triumphant over her silence, he didn’t let on.

He was the one who broke the silence and it felt like a definite checkmark in the loss column for her.

“The party tonight is formal,” he said, “everyone is going to be in their finest.”

She let out a heavy sigh. “Except for me. In fact, I may skip this one and just sit in my little servant’s quarters with a crust of bread and some cheese.”

“That’s quite dramatic. I think we could at least get you some fresh bread.”

“There isn’t any reason for me to go. Actually, I might be able to roam the halls a little bit if I stay behind.”

“Hospitality has been extended to both of us. And I’m concerned about angering the host.”