Page 56 of The Mad Don
He looks like he never left the house.
I swallow.
“Did you meet the doctor, Don?” Fabiano asks.
Giovanni gives Fabiano a stiff smile.
“The man was unwell. We couldn’t meet him.” His voice is even, pleasant, the voice he uses when he is most dangerous. “Send him a card. And a gift. Something from the early modern lots. And find his itinerary for the next few days. I’d like for us to run into each other somewhere, casually, before the week is out.”
“Noted, Don.”
“That will be all. You can handle it from your quarters. Rest the leg.”
“Yes, Don.”
Fabiano turns and goes. His crutch taps against the floor as he walks across the hall. His face is blank the whole way. He does not look at me once.
I wait until he is gone.
“I saw him,” I say. “I’m telling you, I?—”
Giovanni takes my hand.
He pulls me through the door and toward the stairs. I plant my feet and fight against him, but his grip does not give way. His fingers are clamped around my hand and wrist, and I can feel the bruise forming under them, the pressure going all the way into the small bones, and still, he does not slow.
He takes me up the stairs and down the corridor to his room. He pushes the door open and throws me toward the bed. I land on it and catch myself on my hands.
I prop myself up on my elbows. My heart is slamming against my ribs.
“I really saw him!” I cry. “I —”
His lips cut me off as they cover my mouth in a rough kiss.
Chapter Fourteen
Giovanni
She’s sprawled on my bed, propped on her elbows, wide-eyed but still trying to project that icy calm. Her lips are parted, full and flushed. The way she fell has her shirt twisted and pulled tight across her chest, the soft, heavy swell of her breasts clearly visible, nipples already stiff and pressing against the fabric like they’re begging for my mouth.
My cock strains painfully against my zipper, thick and aching. I’ve been hard as steel all night watching that bastard get too close to her, whispering in her ear, touching what is mine. The jealousy has been simmering into pure, violent need. Now, she’s exactly where she belongs—on my bed.
“I really saw him,” she tries again.
I grab her ankle and yank her sharply down the mattress. Before she can push herself back up, I’m on top of her, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand while my mouth crashes down on hers. She fights like a wildcat with strong, precisepunches and elbows that would break lesser men, but I absorb it all and crush my heavier body down onto hers, grinding my trapped cock against her thigh. She bucks and twists, but I hold her down, devouring her mouth. My tongue forces its way between her lips, stroking deep, tasting her heat and fury.Fuck, she tastes good.Sweet and addictive even when she’s spitting venom.
Then I stop and pull away. She looks up at me, slightly disconcerted. Her mouth is propped open, and she is breathing heavily. My cock is still aching, but I feel strangely satisfied seeing her look hungrily for me and confused that I stopped.
Punishment- that’s my punishment, edging her and stopping. I want her to ache for me like I do for her.
“You said you could help my sister,” I say, trying to keep my voice careless as I pick my shirt from the floor. “Didn’t you?”
“I — umm.”
I subdue a smirk as I watch her try to gather herself.
“I — I can,” she says hurriedly. She is turning red. Serves her right for talking to another man.
“Then help her. Maids will supervise you in the room. You can visit her. Do what you can.”
