by J, Bella
“Be careful, Mila,” I warned. There were already numerous times she disrespected me in this conversation. “You know, if I didn’t have my hand against your cunt yesterday, I would have thought you had balls between those sweet legs of yours.”
Her cheeks exploded into a deep shade of pink, the flush spreading all the way down her neck, her chest. It was fucking beautiful, the way my filthy mouth made her skin glow.
“Jesus,” she muttered. The curl she tucked back earlier escaped again, brushing against her cheek, and she blew it out of her face with a huff. I didn’t know what it was, but she had become more beautiful between the time she had walked in here and now. This moment.
Without looking at me, she continued. “I’ll play my part.” She swallowed, her slender throat bobbing. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Marry you and pretend to be your wife.” She bit her lip and glanced at me from beneath long lashes, uncertainty dousing the brilliance of those emerald irises. “If you help me with the orphanage.”
I scratched a finger down the side of my face. “Do you have any idea how much red tape there is when it comes to starting such an establishment, and then running it? It’s not a fucking grocery store, Mila.”
“I know that.”
“So, what?” I shrugged. “I give you the money you need in order to start the orphanage, and then what? You just find a big enough building, hand out a few flyers, and start taking in kids?”
“Do not talk to me like I’m stupid.” Her nostrils flared, and her lips pulled in a straight line. “I know starting an orphanage isn’t something you can slap a few zeros on and make it happen overnight. There are regulations and legal issues, stuff I have no clue about.” She rubbed a hand up and down her arm, a telltale sign she was becoming nervous. “That’s why…” She swallowed. “That’s why I’m going to need more than just your money. I just want to help the kids, do what I can—”
“To stop what happened to you from happening to another child.” It wasn’t a question. I knew exactly why, out of all the riches and wealth I could give her to make sure she never wanted for anything ever again, she chose to ask my help so she could help others.
Her eyes flashed with surprise. “You know.”
“You’re going to be my wife, Mila. Do you really think I would marry a woman I know absolutely nothing about?”
“Guess not.” There was a distinct hostility in the way she sneered the words. Clearly, she didn’t like the fact that I knew everything about her, even the darkest secrets she shared with no one. She rubbed a finger against her temple, and I could see she was losing her nerve. “Will you help me or not?”
With narrowed eyes, I studied her, scrutinized her, allowing her proposal to linger. In all my years of doing business with different types of people around the world, I had learned how to read people. How to interpret their body language, see the subtle signs of whether one could be trusted or not. Whether they were laying all their cards on the table, or keeping their true motivations hidden. Call it a trick of the trade, a sixth sense when it came to dealings with other people. And right now, my every instinct had me convinced there was so much more to her story. Another reason, perhaps even a stronger one that would push her to want to make this deal with me. Now I wanted to know what that reason was—I needed to know. It was the same type of curiosity that burned at the fingertips of a child who stared at a button with a huge ‘do not push’ sign on it. It was next to impossible not to find out what would happen once that you pushed that fucking button. Mila managed to pique my curiosity, and I wouldn’t stop until my curiosity had been satisfied.
This might also end up being the opportunity I had patiently been waiting for, twisting her proposition so it could work in my favor.
I rubbed my fingers against the stubble on my chin. “Fine. I’ll help you, give you whatever you need to make this orphanage project work.” Her shoulders sagged, and she let out a breath of relief. “But,” I continued, and her wary gaze cut to mine, “you have to agree to be my wife for at least six months, even after you sign your shares over to me.”
“What?” she blurted. “That’s not the deal.”
I smirked. “It is now.”
“You can’t do that.” The flush on her cheeks was gone, her eyes wide in shock. “Saint, you can’t do that.”
“On the contrary,” I rubbed my hands together like a devil who was about to snatch a soul, “I can do whatever the fuck I want. And if you really care about those children and this dream orphanage of yours, you’ll sacrifice six months of your life. I mean,” I shot her a devilish smile, “what is a few months of your life if it means putting a smile on so many little faces in the future?”
The power of manipulation. Some saw it as a form of witchcraft. I saw it as an easy way to always get what I wanted. And right now, it seemed Mila was something I wanted.
“What will it be, Mila?”
The way she glared at me, her cold green eyes practically slicing the skin off my face, was amusing as fuck. I liked the way she loathed me, the way her hatred for me oozed out of her pores. It consumed her; I consumed her. And it fucking made my dick hard.
I stood while Mila continued to glare at me, probably weighing her options—which she didn’t have a lot of.
It took a few seconds of stare-off between us before she nodded her agreement—reluctantly, I might add. “You’re the devil, you know that?” she bit out.
“Don’t fool yourself.” I stepped closer and cupped her cheek. “The devil doesn’t compare.”
15
Mila
I wished I could have said I prevailed at being stubborn by refusing to eat his food. But, unfortunately for me, I was human, and I was fucking starving. So, I ate. I ate every little crumb on my plate. I did ignore him, though. Completely. Like the bastard wasn’t even there.
Whether I made a mistake by bargaining with him remained to be seen. I chose to ignore the gnawing warning that scratched against my spine telling me any kind of deal with Saint was like handing your soul to the devil on a silver platter. But if I was about to sign my shares in a company I didn’t even know existed over to him, I sure as hell needed to get something out of it, too.
An opportunity was what Elena called it. One could argue she was merely trying to let me see the perks of living in luxury and not having to scrape together every penny in order to survive. But I knew better. She had planted that little seed in my head on purpose and hoped it would grow. I hoped it wouldn’t grow into a huge pain in my ass.
The shutters of the dining room windows had been closed, just like the ones in my bedroom. Clearly, Saint was trying to keep something hidden. That something being me. It was just like my luck I landed up in Italy yet was unable to see any of it. At least there was a huge painting of the Colosseum against the wall across from me, which was probably as close as I would come to seeing one of Italy’s famous landmarks.
While chewing on fresh fruit, I kept on staring at the painting. The different shades of blue used in the sky above the oval structure was almost the same as the hues in Saint’s eyes. There were no clouds, an obvious summer day, but there was something dark about the background sky. Like there was a storm brewing, the corners shaded from a bright blue to a subtle gray. The dark brown colors of what was left of the Colosseum were all tones of darkness, as if whoever painted the picture wasn’t trying to make it seem magnificent as the world made it out to be—but rather to show its ruins, the broken parts, the chaos that demolished it. The ugliness of what used to take place within its walls. I didn’t think it was possible for architecture to seem lonely. But in this painting, it seemed desolate. Forsaken, yet beautiful in its imperfection.
Saint placed his napkin on the table and stood. “Aunt Elena will help you pack.”
“Pack?” I stared at him, confused.
“We’re leaving today.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see soon enough.” He glanced at Elena. “Make sure she
wears a large enough hat to cover most of her face for our brief appearance. Last thing we need is for vultures to identify her.”
“Excuse me.” I held up my hand, but he ignored me and stomped out of the dining room. I looked at Elena. “What vultures?”
Elena got up. “He means paparazzi.”
“What? What paparazzi?”
“The Russo family is very powerful here in Italy. And not only is Marcello a Russo, he’s also a very attractive and wealthy man. So, naturally, the tabloids love him here.”
I almost laughed out loud. “Do they know he’s a cold-blooded killer and kidnapper?”
The friendly expression Elena seemed to always carry instantly fell, replaced with anger, her eyes firm and hard. “I’ve been kind to you, Mila. But I will not allow you to speak of my nephew in such a manner. Understood?”
“He kidnapped me. Surely, you can’t expect me to talk of him with respect.” I stood from my chair, never taking my eyes off her. “I’m not here because I want to be. I’m here because he brought me here against my will.”
Elena leaned with her hands on the table, inching closer as determination radiated from her dark chocolate irises. “Stop seeing this as a punishment. See it as a—”
“Opportunity?” I interrupted. “See it as an opportunity?”
“As a way to finally live the life that had been taken away from you. This is your chance to be who you were born to be.” She straightened then pulled her fingers gently through the loose blonde strands of her hair, like she was trying to compose herself. “Now, come. We need to prepare.”
“For what?”
“For being seen with your future husband.”
I shook my head lightly. “I’m not even sure I know what that means.” Jesus, my head was spinning.
“Marcello is putting every security measure in place to make sure you are kept hidden until everything has been set in place. But since we’re in Italy now, there is always a chance of uninvited press lurking around. You need to act the part at all times.”
“Oh, my God.” I touched my flushed cheeks and closed my eyes. “This is going to turn into a shit-show.”
“Aunt Elena.” Saint’s sharp-edged voice sliced through the room, and I turned to face him, his large frame filling the empty space. “Please make sure Mila’s stuff is packed and ready.”
I snorted. “Nothing here is my stuff.”
Elena shot me a warning glare, silently telling me to watch my mouth. God, she made me feel like a petulant child in desperate need of discipline.
Her heels clicked across the floor as she left, and I refused to look in Saint’s direction any longer. While I stood with my arms crossed, doing my best to ignore the subtle tingle his presence sent across my skin, I heard his heavy footsteps approach. With every slow step, my heart picked up its pace and my breathing became more labored. I fought the urge to turn to him, to see the look on his face as he came closer. But then I felt him move in behind me, so close the edges of suit jacket brushed against my naked arms. It made me shiver, his presence wrapping around me like a mantle of power. Of dominion. Like he was staking his claim over me by simply standing so close.
“Turn around.” His voice was low, but it didn’t lack authority. In fact, it was stronger, more demanding, so I obeyed. I turned around but refused to look up at him. Instead, I stared at the gray tie he wore, the subtle vertical lines only visible from this close.
“Show me.”
“Show you what?” My voice was too soft. I sounded weak. Docile.
A gentle touch of his hand against my chin forced me to lift my gaze. “Show me how you’ll make the world see that you are hopelessly,” his thumb traced along my bottom lip, “and irrevocably in love with your husband.” He lowered his face to mine, his warm breath dancing across my cheeks. “Show me how you’ll prove to everyone that you’re sexually attracted to me.”
I held my breath, the tenor of his voice luring me in. If seduction was a sound, this would be it. The way his words rolled from his lips, it was both bewitching and dangerous, how it ignited a flicker of something perilous inside me. Something that felt powerful enough to control me. Make me do something I’d regret.
“Show me,” he urged, lowering his mouth inches from mine. So close, for a moment I wasn’t sure whether he was kissing me or not. I felt it, yet it wasn’t quite there. Just a breath apart. One single breath hovering between my lips and his. “Let your eyes show your desire for me.”
My muscles tensed, heat slowly spreading throughout my chest. I had no control over it, no way of fighting it as it moved down my spine only to flare between my thighs. I hated the man who stood so close to me, yet my body reacted in a way that completely contradicted the way I felt about him. It was unnerving. How was it possible to dislike someone so intensely, yet your body felt more alive than it ever did while he stood so close?
He licked his lips, the movement drawing my attention, and I could feel myself being sucked into the moment. Into the lie.
A rough hand brushed against my arm, his simple touch bathing my skin with the poison of his seduction. I could feel it corrupt me, little by little, the toxin suffocating my control. Even if I had the strength, I wouldn’t know how to fight it. How to stop his undeniable allure from baiting me, luring me into the devil’s lair while his evil intentions wrapped around me like iron chains.
A thumb remained on my bottom lip. “If you don’t believe it, Mila, neither will they. You need to make the world believe your heart is mine.” His hand slipped from my arm and rested on my waist. Lips traced along my cheek, and instead of fighting him or pushing him away, I closed my eyes and surrendered. I had never felt temptation so strongly before—the need to forget every rational thought and swim in the velvet water of desire without the fear of drowning.
Tipping his nose under my chin, he urged me to look at him, and his arm abruptly wrapped around my waist, pulling me against him.
A rush of hot air escaped my parted lips, my body pressed hard against his, molded to his frame as if I was the perfect fit. A puzzle piece that had been cut and torn away to one day be reunited and locked in place so the long-forgotten image could be once again created.
Dark brows knitted together, his eyes fully focused on mine. “Pretend we’re lovers, like I’m the only man who knows every curve of your body. Inside and out.” He reached down and cupped my butt, pulled me closer so hard the heels of my shoes lifted off the ground. “You need to act like my cock buried inside that cunt of yours is the only fucking thing that matters to you.” Those perfect lips parted, lust and savagery fused together within the blue hues of his eyes—a lethal mixture for a woman like me. A woman who had no choice, unable to stay away from him and the menacing tentacles of his sexual prowess.
He wrapped a hand around the back of my neck, and I craned my head up toward the ceiling. Bold, hungry lips pressed against the hollow of my throat, and my thighs clenched with the heat that pooled between my legs—an unwelcome feeling. An inappropriate response to whatever the hell was happening.
“Can you do that, Milana?”
My eyes fluttered closed, his breathing teasing my damp skin. “Mila,” I whispered with a labored breath. “My name…is Mila.”
I felt his lips smile against my flesh, his grip on my ass loosening slightly, allowing my heels to touch the ground again.
With a shiver and the lingering warmth inside my core, I remained frozen as he brought his lips to my ear. “Act like you worship me.”
Every word, every breath, every ounce of him was laced with sex and primal instincts that incited and teased my own sexual desires. I knew what kind of man he was, what he was capable of. And no matter how much I disliked him, loathed him, my body defied my will to fight him.
He sucked air through his teeth as he let go of me, taking a step back. “Make everyone believe I’m your God. Can you do that?”
The way my skin burned, how my insides twisted into knots and begged for release, I knew my
face was speaking volumes. I tried to summon every little crumb of disdain I felt toward him, tried to let it beam from my glare. But it wasn’t working. I could see it in the way he looked at me with a powerful smirk that told tales of conquering victories. As if he knew I was clenching my thighs, desperate for the throbbing need to die and never come back. Not with him. Never with him.
Saint reached out, but I jerked away before he could touch a strand of hair that magically escaped the fifty pins Elena used to style it with.
He paused. “Never cower away from my touch.”
“No one’s here. We don’t have to pretend,” I sneered. “And I wasn’t cowering away from your touch. I was refusing it.”
His tongue traced along his bottom lip, and like a starved lion, he watched me as if he could already taste me. As if he could feel my bones snap along with the last shred of self-control I had. The bastard was toying with me, playing me like I was his shiny new toy.
“Elena said you’re one of Italy’s most eligible bachelors. I bet you have women lined up like cattle, willing to be slaughtered for you. Or should I say by you?”
Sapphire eyes glinted with amusement. “Are you jealous?”
“Not in the least.” I squared my shoulders and tried to make myself seem taller. “Don’t make a fool out of me, Saint.”
“What do you mean?”
“After we’re married, don’t make a fool out of me by whoring with other women.”
His smirk turned dangerous, wicked. “I’m a man whose needs are very,” he pursed his lips, “specific. And you made it clear that you refuse my touch, so I don’t really have a lot of options,” he inched closer, “do I?” He leaned his head from side to side as his gaze pinned me to the spot. “Besides, I know how to be discreet.”
The knots of need that still lingered in my gut started to burn, jealousy I refused to acknowledge tightening the muscles in my shoulders. “Like your aunt said,” I met his gaze with a glare, “someone is always watching.”