Sold: Dark Mafia Romance

The mere sight of him in a black suit with a pink shirt unbuttoned at the top captures my breath. A small tattoo of an angel’s wings on his chest is barely visible, but I can see it, and I can’t stop looking, no matter how hard I try. Something about it speaks to me.

And there’s something else, too—something in his eyes, a particular shimmer of excitement like that of a predator ready to pounce on its prey.

He’s looking at me in such a possessive way that I take another step back. And another one. He follows after me until he’s inside the room, and the door shuts behind him. I bump into the bed and barely manage to stay standing.

This isn’t how I thought this would go. I thought Mario would come get me for dinner. That I’d be able to glide down the stairs and show Marcello what kind of woman I really am. Then he’d fall in love within one second of looking at me, drooling with his tongue hanging out, like a dog on a leash I could finally tame.

But this man always manages to curtail my expectations.

“Expecting someone else, kitten?” he muses, cocking his head. He bites his bottom lip, drawing it between his teeth, and for some reason, I can’t stop focusing on it. It’s hot as hell.

“Mario told me he’d come to escort me,” I say, clutching the bedpost as though it’ll give me back my bearings. But merely looking at this man makes me feel dizzy, the same kind of drunk ecstasy I felt back in that bunker when he fingered me to an orgasm.

And it makes my body tingle with need.

“It gives me great satisfaction …” He eyes me up and down, taking in my dress in one fell swoop like I’m a well-dressed doll he’s admiring. “To see the look on your face when I surprise you.”

Fuck me.

How am I supposed to make him fall for me if he continues to throw curveballs like that? If I can’t keep my own damn body’s response under control?

I close my eyes and force myself to remember.

He’s the bad guy, Harper. He may have killed your parents.

“Look at me,” he orders.

My eyes pop open as if awoken by his command.

Why? Why does my body respond so eagerly to every word he says?

He moves toward me, and I swallow down the nerves as his hand reaches up to touch my face. With his coarse knuckles, he caresses my cheek so softly it makes me gasp for air.

How can a man with his stature, his background, be involved in so much violence and stay gentle at the same time?

He reaches for my neck right underneath my hairline and pulls me closer until I’m right in his arms. His other hand snakes around my waist, locking me between him and the bed.

“You look stunning,” he murmurs after a pause to quickly glance over my dress again. “Did you pick this dress with me in mind? Did you want to impress me, kitten?”

“So what if I did?” I mouth back as he tilts my head back, exposing my bare neck, almost as if he’s going to bite me.

Instead, he leans in and whispers, “Don’t play coy with me. You wanted me to see you. You want me to lust after you.”

The way he says those luscious words, whispering them into my ear, makes my pussy clench like I happily made a deal with the devil. His hand trails from my neckline down my chest, carefully slipping down the crevice between my breasts before sliding down my dress … right between my legs.

I suck my bottom lip, and his hold on my waist tightens in response.

“Tell me you hate me. Say it out loud because your eyes and your body will betray you.” His fingers rub my pussy right through the fabric in such a delicious way I’m overcome by the very lust I meant to instill in him. And it infuriates me. I hate the way he makes me feel so powerless, so … aroused.

“You want this. Admit it,” he groans, pushing his hard-on against my thigh. “You like my touch.”

His hands slither underneath my dress, pulling it up so he can find his way to my panties, so he can slide them aside and play with my bare pussy. The look on his face is devious, dirty. As though he knows he’s in control, and he’s enjoying every second of it.

He leans in closer until his breath skims over my sensitive skin. His lips hover over mine, my breath faltering as he inches closer. The heat is electrifying, and there’s an undeniable magnetic pull between us.

Right now, I want nothing more than for him to kiss me.

And I hate myself for it.

The sound of his zipper coming down forces me to finally come to my senses. He’s manipulating my thoughts, my emotions, my body, and I can’t let him.