Page 76 of Dirty Hot Valentine
The Italian Obsession
The Italian Marriage
The Italian Heartthrob
The Italian Happy Ever After
1. Tino
My sweet Angel was in the greenhouse again, the violin in her hand an extension of her body, not just an instrument to play. It was a part of her like the gun was a part of a me.
A power that brought mighty men to their knees.
Her long hair cascaded down her back and shielded half of her face from me. She wasn’t playing now. She was staring at nothing, deep in thought. It wasn’t hard to guess who took over her mind.
Me.
Even if she hadn’t figured it out yet.
Our little game might have started years ago, but it was the most interesting now. When she was living under my roof, thinking I was protecting her from her stalker, not knowing the savior and the monster were nothing but one.
My sweet, little Angel. My innocent and naughty girl all in one. My absolute beautiful obsession.
I put my compulsion to watch her when she couldn’t see me aside and entered the greenhouse, making no noise. “You and I are having dinner at Leo’s tonight.”
The bow flew off her hand and landed on the fake grass. By the way she jumped, it was obvious she had no clue I’d been watching her for the past forty minutes. She didn’t even hear me come in.
I picked it up and sat next to her on the bench, staring at her startled face, yet taking subtle notice of her nipples that were hardening under her shirt. She was wearing no bra. Again.
“I know this is your house, but please stop startling me like this.” She grabbed her bow back.
“You shouldn’t be so startled all the time. You need to work on your reflexes.” She was going to be a Mafia queen one day. She couldn’t be that reckless or skittish.
She cocked a brow. “Well, not everybody is you, Don Bellomo.”
First, she went against my orders and forgot her bra, again, even though I explicitly told her to wear one every time she was out of her room. My house was swarming with bodyguards and crew. Those fuckers were bound to take a peek. Her body was mine, and mine alone to see.
Then she, teasing on purpose, called me Don Bellomo when I told her to call me Tino.
She was driving me crazy without a care about the consequences. My little Angel was being naughty, and she was about to get a taste of what I did to naughty little girls. “The next time you’re going to disobey me I’m going to bend you on my knees and spank you.”
Her eyes widened in shock, an immediate burn to her cheeks. This was the first time I was being that blunt with her. As Tino, nothe. I’d give my fortune to know if that made her wet like she’d beenhespanked her. I bet it did.
“Tino!” she squeaked.
“That’s what brats get in my house, young lady.” I provoked her like she was provoking me. I knew how much she hated when I called her young lady or little girl.
She jumped to her feet, her hands on her hips. “I’m not a brat, and I’m not a little girl.”
She wanted me to see her as a woman. She didn’t know that I did.
My eyes dropped to her chest. To the nipples staring me at the face, begging for my attention.Stop teasing me, Angel. You don’t know what you’re doing to me. You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’m capable of.“Is that why you’re missing your bra again? To show me and every other fuck in here that you’re not a little girl?”
Her jaw dropped as she trembled. “What the hell? I’m not showing anybody anything. I’m wearing a freaking parka. Nothing is showing.”
“I can perfectly see your nipples. Again.”
The way she was shaking as she glanced down at her tits, the way her blush deepened when she found out I was right, and the way her little nipples were pebbling harder… Cazzo. The wolf in me howled for a claim long-awaited, but I crossed my legs, hiding what I no longer wanted to hide.
