Page 19 of Ruthless Sinner
She laughs breathily as if I just said the funniest thing in the world. I chalk her behavior up to madness and obsession. “You wouldn’t have to pay me to have sex with you, either,” Lucrezia offers.
My dick shrivels in response. I swear she turns the poor guy into an innie. “You’re sixteen, Lucrezia. I didn’t even fuck sixteen-year-olds when I was sixteen.”
“That means I’ll be your first. I love popping a man’s cherry,” she purrs, lightly tracing her finger along the metal. “I love breaking men in.”
I bet she does. I don’t care that she likes sex; I like sex. I would never begrudge another person for indulging in what excites them. But I’m not putting my dick in a man trap, and that’s exactly what Lucrezia Castiglione is. “What do you want? It’s,” I look at my watch, “7:12. On a Sunday.”
Lucrezia’s hands tighten around the bars, her face contorting as she presses it between them. With a twisted smile and manic eyes, she exudes the aura of a dangerously unhinged woman—the kind that simultaneously attracts and repels with her unpredictable nature. “I thought we might get breakfast together,” she coos.
With a flick of my wrist, I send the apple soaring into the air, watching as it spins and glints in the sunlight. My hand moves quickly to catch it in one smooth motion, savoring the satisfying crunch as I take another bite. “I got breakfast covered. Thanks, though.”
Her grip around the bars tightens, her knuckles turning white. “Why can’t I come in? The guy says I’m not allowed past the gates anymore.” Lucrezia’s bottom lip pushes out in a pout, her hazel eyes wide with disappointment.
“You abused your privileges the last time you were here. Maybe in a few years, when you stop acting like a crazy, jealous bitch, I’ll let you in my home again.”
Lucrezia clucks her tongue at me. “We’re getting married in less than two years, Dante. You’ll have to let me in sooner or later.”
“I’ve got a countdown, Lucrezia. I’m well aware of our upcoming nuptials.”
She releases the bars and drops her hand down between her thighs, stroking herself. “Because you can’t wait to be inside this warm, wet pussy?”
I’m done with the crazy this morning. I toss my apple at the car, leaving a tiny dent on the hood that is nothing compared to the dents in the fender from repeatedly ramming the gates. “You’ve got ten minutes to get off my property before Vince calls the cops.” I spin on my heel, the sound of my shoes scraping against the concrete as I walk away.
Lucrezia’s voice echoes behind me, her words stinging like a swarm of bees. “Dante, baby, please. We need to get to know each other before we get married.”
I thrust my hand into the air with my middle finger extended. “Fuck off, Lucrezia.”
How many more problems will I have to deal with? Tommaso Martinelli’s debt. Adalina’s stubbornness. Lucrezia Castiglione’s disturbing obsession with me. What else can I add to my plate?
Chapter 20
Adalina
Iam abruptly awakened by the piercing sound of metal grinding against metal. It startles me, and I find myself sitting up, disoriented and bewildered, with no recollection of how I ended up here. My mind feels like a tangled web, the threads of memory too slippery to grasp. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the faint light seeping through the window. As I gaze at the opulent surroundings, a sense of familiarity washes over me, reminding me of my location.
The loud, jarring crash repeats itself, louder this time. With a groggy yawn, I slowly untangle myself from the blankets and shuffle toward the window to investigate.
From my vantage point, I can see the twisted metal of the gate that marks the entrance of Dante’s property. The once-pristine bars are now bent and mangled. On the other side of the wrought iron is a black SUV that slams into the metal a third time while two security guards stand off to the sides yelling. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but I can read the panicked expressions on their face.
My gaze lingers with mild interest as a petite brunette emerges from the SUV, her movements quick and determined. She marches up to the guard shack and starts banging on the window with clenched fists. Inside, two men seem to be ignoring her, their actions infuriating the girl even more.
The SUV is still impaled by the wrought iron gate, a symbol of their failed attempt at entry. Finally, the driver steps out of the vehicle with a stoic expression on his face, seemingly unperturbed by the chaos around him. I wish I could hear what they were saying.
A few moments later, a sudden flurry of movement catches my eye. I shift my gaze downward to see Dante striding confidently down the driveway, his long legs clad in faded jeans and a plain T-shirt. The casual attire seems out of place on him, as if he should be dressed in sophisticated slacks and a crisp button-up instead. But even in this laid-back outfit, he exudes an assertive air.
Dante takes his time strolling towards the mess at the gate, his stride relaxed. With a fluid motion, he tosses an apple into the air and catches it with practiced ease, taking a bite before continuing on. The pretty brunette walks up to the gate and grabs the bars, speaking to Dante with a smile on her face.
As I observe their conversation, I imagine the words that are being exchanged. She’s here to tell him she’s pregnant with his baby. She’s here to tell him he shouldn’t have broken up with her. She’s here to tell him her mother is dying, and he should be at the funeral. Who is this woman to him? An old flame, a current lover, or even his betrothed?
I stop in my tracks. “She’s his fiancé,” I say aloud.
Instantly, I look closer at the girl. She has beautiful Italian features—smooth, olive skin that glows in the sunlight, luscious dark locks that cascade down her back, and a pointed, Roman nose. And yet, it isn’t just her physical beauty that captivates me. The woman carries herself with confidence, moving her body in a way that draws me in. She is a tiny thing, a 5’0” cherry bomb ready to explode in your face. From up here, she is radiant—an ethereal sort of beauty that makes me feel like I don’t even deserve to look at her.
As her hand snakes between her legs, I can only imagine the vulgar message she’s sending to Dante. My stomach constricts in disgust, and my eyes frantically search for something else to focus on, anything to distract me from her lewd actions.
His fiancé, if that’s really who she is, is quite beautiful. She’s also younger than me, which means she’s considerably younger than Dante. I’m not sure how old he is, but he carries himself with a maturity and wisdom that only come from experiencing life.
Looking back out the window, I see Dante walking toward the house. He looks up and catches me staring through the glass. For some reason, it forces me to jump back out of his line of sight. A strange sensation spreads through me like wildfire, starting at my scalp and engulfing every inch of my body in a pulsating wave of fear and unease.