Page 10 of Untamed
His sharp eyes zero in on me, and if I were younger, I would have shrunk away from his deadly stare, but I’m no longer afraid. I’ve been through far worse.
A shudder hits me at the reminder, and his lips tip up into a cruel smirk, probably thinking my reaction was toward him and not the memory that haunts me.
He, too, leans over the dinner table, so close I can smell his cedarwood cologne and, Jesus, do I want to lick it from him.
“Listen, you little brat, don’t make me spank your ass before the night ends. I have other plans tonight.”
I blink. Did he just say he’d spank me? He chuckles, his broad chest shaking, then my gaze flits down to his firm hands. My core clenches. Yes, please. Holy shit, just the thought of thosehands spanking me is hot, and if he were to actually follow through with it… Wow.
“Fuck me, you like the idea of that, huh?” He drags his hand over the scruff on his jaw, and my cheeks heat as I pull back into my chair. “This is going to be so much easier than I expected.”
The door to the dining room opens again, and my father slips inside, looking as uncomfortable as I feel.
“I hope you’re not giving Massio any trouble, Theodora,” my father states.
I turn to him and plaster the fake smile on my face that he’s always so oblivious to. “Of course not. I’ll leave a copy of my schedule on the kitchen counter for you tonight, Massio. If you’ll excuse me, I have homework to do.”
My father beams with pride, but Massio’s calculated eyes watch my every move.
As I push out of my chair, the heat of his stare sends a zap of excitement through me, which is odd, since I hate being controlled and he’s here to do just that.
Massio might think he can be my bodyguard, but I’m about to prove to him he’d be best suited elsewhere.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THEA
I’m lying on my bed with my schoolbooks out, but nothing is holding my interest, so I text my friend instead.
Posy: I think it’s cool you have a bodyguard.
I shake my head; my poor friend is in a dream world.
Me: You would.
Posy: At least your father is showing he cares.
I scoff. Cares? Cares about his investment, more like. The last thing he wants is little me not just decreasing in value but plummeting into the orbit.
Me: He wants me alive so his investments don’t tank.
It might be blunt, but it’s true.
Posy: Ever the optimist.
Me: It’s true.
Posy: Tell me more about the mafia man.
Me: I never said he was mafia.
She’s aware my father deals with Mafia business, and I made her pinky swear to secrecy the moment she witnessed some of my father’s shady business associates at one of my mother’s lavish dinner balls. Being my best friend since I started kindergarten, she’s the only person I can confide in.
Posy: Is he?
Me: Probably.
Posy: Is he hot?
