Page 5 of Ruthless Sinner
A smirk plays on her lips, and I know God damn well what she’d choose if I gave her the chance. Unfortunately for her, my dick is too hard to play these games.
I grab her by the wrist and drag her out of the bar like I’m pulling a naughty child away from the park. If I wasn’t so fucking turned on right now, I’d spank her in the car like a naughty child, too. She brings out the animal in me.
Chapter 5
Adalina
His car is all curves and smooth leather. The glossy black exterior reflects the city lights while every interior surface is polished and refined.
A few blocks too late, I realize I shouldn’t be in here.
I don’t know who this man is. The thought of him dropping me off at my father’s place sends shivers down my spine. I’m already bracing myself for the inevitable punishment for sneaking out and getting drunk. If Tommaso finds out I spent the night with a man, there’s no telling what he’ll do.
“What’s your name?” The stranger asks, his eyes darting towards me in a glance. The moonlight seeps through the windshield, casting a pale glow on his face, but it does little to reveal his thoughts.
“Are names all that necessary? I haven’t asked yours.”
His teeth must be fluorescent because when he smiles, they’re all I see. “I’m Dante.”
I let out an exasperated sigh and turn to gaze out the window. The once bustling streets now lay deserted, with only the occasional flicker of street lamps passing us by in a blur. The darkened houses and quiet neighborhoods create a sense of eerie stillness as we speed through them. “Where do you live, Dante?”
“Just outside of town,” he announces as we drive past Target. But even though he tells me where our destination is, I’m still anxious when he merges onto the highway. “What’s your name?”
He’s too clingy; he needs too many answers. He falls short of the ideal savior I once dreamed of, the one I fantasized about in my diary growing up. But those dreams died when my father’s guards discovered my journal and began reading my intimate thoughts aloud at their meetings. The memories of my humiliation still burn hot, a constant reminder of the dangers of voicing my desires. “Adalina.”
A couple of miles into the drive, Dante pulls off the highway into a quiet subdivision outside of town—just like he promised. “Pretty,” he comments. “What were you and your friends out celebrating?”
“What’s with the third degree?” I shoot back. We should have stayed at Tate’s. At least at the bar, I could have walked away when he got annoying. If I want to do that now, I’ll have to wait until the car slows down and then try to tuck and roll my way out of this mess.
“Just trying to make conversation, Adalina.” Dante wears a patient smile that leaves my nerve endings buzzing.
His house is beautiful. We have to pass a guard shack and a sturdy 10-foot wrought iron fence to get inside, but it’s beautiful nonetheless. “That seems like overkill,” I mumble as I watch the gate close in my side mirror.
Dante shrugs nonchalantly. “You say overkill; I say security.”
I don’t know who this stranger is that I’ve managed to happen upon, but I regret it. No one has such tight security unless they have something to hide. Who is this man, and what does he have to be afraid of?
I have a laundry list of my own worries to concern myself with; I don’t have time to take on Dante’s. “I’m not staying the night,” I tell him as he pulls into the garage.
The massive house looms around us. Three other cars take up the ample four-car space. “No one said you were spending the night, Adalina.”
He is calm and content; I am chaos trapped in a bottle.
“Of course. I just don’t want you to make the mistake of thinking that just because we fuck, I’m going to stick around so you can make me breakfast.” I’ve got to stop watching movies where the girl falls in love with her one-night stand. That is never a situation I will find myself in.
Dante climbs out of the driver’s seat, and I wait for him to walk around the front of the car and open my door. He’s a gentleman, I’ll give him that. He offers me a hand and helps me to my feet, then pretends not to notice me teetering on the edge of my high heels as I right myself in the dimly lit garage. “Trust me, cara mia, I won’t make you breakfast in the morning.”
That makes me a little sad, but that’s life. I pull my shoulders back and nod at the door leading into the house. “Then show me around, and be quick about it. I have somewhere to be at three.”
With a little snort, Dante shuts the door behind me. “3 am?” He confirms.
I check the nonexistent watch on my wrist. “Yup. 3 am.” I’ve learned that men perform better when they have a schedule to adhere to.
Dante leads me inside, his warm hand engulfing mine as he leads the way. “I’d hate to be the guy that makes you late to your important middle-of-the-night plans.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were being sarcastic,” I deadpan.
As I enter the house, he grabs me and pulls me hard against his body. I collide with his chest, and it takes my breath away. “Trust me. You will always know my intentions for you after tonight.”