I step out of the shadows.
She hears the rustle of my clothes and whirls around. When she sees it’s me, her expression morphs from resignation to fury. “Were you eavesdropping?”
I walk toward the kitchen island and take a peach from the basket. “Didn’t think you were such a hero, Gem.”
She watches me take a bite. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I wipe a drop of juice off my chin with the back of my hand. “I thought your father got rid of all his enemies. Who is he afraid of now?”
“Oh yes, let me just spill all of my family’s business to you.”
I study her. Her body language doesn’t match her haughty tone. Her eyes flit back and forth, like she can’t look at me head-on.
She doesn’t know shit.
“Let me get this straight.” I move around the island. “You don’t even know if there’s a real threat or if your papa’s just being paranoid?”
Perceived weakness. Why would anyone in New York think Garzolo is weak after he sent the Riccis packing? The casualty numbers might have been higher than we thought… Possible, given how weird Garzolo got when we brought it up.
But if he’s really so weak, why is Messero getting into bed with him?
A lot of questions and no answers.
Gemma mirrors my movements to prevent me from getting closer to her. “Do you really think my father shares every detail about his business with me? Why do you care anyway?”
“Did you even bother to ask?”
Her expression flashes with uncertainty.
Cazzo.
Irritation inches along my skin. Seeing her being such an obedient little princess pisses me the fuck off. She’s willing to marry Rafaele on blind faith in her Papà?
We’re still moving around the island like two hands of a clock. I take the last bite of my peach and place the pit on the granite surface.
Gemma glances at it.
Before she realizes what’s happening, I anchor my hands on the counter and haul myself over the island.
I land directly in front of her.
“What are—”
“I think I get it now.”
She tries to move to the side, but I bracket her in with my arms.
When she realizes I’m not going to let her escape, her angry gaze moves to my face. “Get what?”
Just being this close to her sends blood rushing to my dick.
My irritation morphs into a simmering kind of frustration. “You’re angry and miserable. You’re sacrificing your future, and you don’t even know what you’re sacrificing it for.”
A shadow passes over her eyes, but she raises her chin in defiance. “You don’t know anything.”
“You can’t show anyone how you really feel, can you? You’re too busy pretending to be perfect for your papa’s sake. So you suppress all that rage, and then you take it out on me.”
She grips each of my wrists and tries to push my hands off the counter. “You really think it’s not possible that I just genuinely dislike you?”
The venom in her voice is convincing, but I haven’t done enough to earn it.
She knows I’m right.
I twist my wrists, effortlessly shaking her off.
Her hands fall back to her sides.
They’re trembling.
“Look at your hands,” I command.
She does. When she sees what I’m seeing, she sucks in a breath and makes two fists.
“That won’t do it.” I’m so close I can pick up on the floral scent of her perfume. I wrap my palms around her delicate wrists and force her fists against my abdomen.
“Let go of me.”
“I’ll be your punching bag. Hit me.”
She presses farther away from me, probably wishing she could move through the counter. Her full lips part. Waver. “I-I’m not going to do that.”
“Why not? I’ve been that for you ever since we met.”
I let my gaze drop down her body. She’s breathing hard, making the swell of her breasts rise and fall. The outline of her nipples are visible through that silky dress, and my cock swells against the zipper of my slacks.
She’s so fucking beautiful it hurts.
I take a small step back to give her some space, but I keep her fists pressed to my abdomen. “C’mon, Gem. You said you don’t like me. Or did you lie?”
Apparently, she really doesn’t want me thinking that, because she jerks her right wrist out of my hold and punches me.
A thrill runs up my spine. I don’t like that fake, perfect version of her. I like this one. The one that keeps me on my toes.
I chuckle. “That’s all you’ve got?”
She glares at me, teeth clenched, jaw tight.
“Your technique could use some— Oof.”
She cuts me off with another punch, this time noticeably harder.
“Still not quite—”
She goes for two more, and I tense my abs to absorb the hits. When she feels the difference, her eyes go momentarily wide. She makes a frustrated sound and then really hits me.
“There.” I grab her hand and hold it in place. Then I lift it between us.
It’s steady.
“You see? Sometimes, you should just let it out. It feels good to do what you want. You should try it more often.”
“Fuck you,” she hisses.
Anger. So much anger for me.
But I bet for Messero, she’ll turn docile and sweet.
A knot of disgust twists inside my gut, and that’s when I do something I shouldn’t.
I follow my own advice about just doing what I want.
The space between us disappears. My thighs press to hers, and I force her back against the counter.
Her eyes widen. “Ras—”
I grab her jaw with my palm and tilt her face up. “Since you seem so fucking good at bending to your parents’ will, let’s see how well you bend to mine.”
She gasps, her pink mouth falling open.
I lean in and kiss her.
She’s always been so sharp around me, so for a moment, I’m taken aback by the softness of her lips. They mold perfectly to mine. I curl my other hand around her nape and pull her closer, holding her in place so that she won’t break the kiss until I get my fill.
My tongue lashes out, forcing past her lips and into the heat of her mouth. She makes a sound. A strangled moan. Perhaps, a muffled protest.
Fuck, I really shouldn’t be doing this. But after all the buildup, all the tension, this is a heady release. I lick inside her mouth, gorging on her taste. It’s laced with remnants of that sweet wine, but now the flavor is perfect. Exquisite.
We fit together. Her smaller body is snug against mine, her breasts pressing against my chest, their nipples hard enough to— “Fuck!”
I stagger backwards, black spots bursting across my vision and pain shooting up my groin.
She kneed me in the balls.
I grin through the pain. Yeah, I fucking earned that.
“Have you lost your damn mind?”
Her question wipes the smile off my face.
Actually, it’s her tone.
Panicked. Afraid.
I glance up at her from my bent-over position. She’s all the way on the other side of the kitchen now.
Even in the dim light, I can see her eyes glistening, her chin trembling.
Cazzo.
Despite the pulsating pain, I force myself to straighten up. There’s an unpleasant falling sensation in my gut, a delayed realization that maybe I took it too far.