Page 12 of When She Tempts (The Fallen)
“Only people your age think it’s a problem,” she adds, giving me a cross look.
My jaw muscles tighten at her repeated dig. Am I really that ancient in her eyes? Thirty-three isn’t that old.
Then I catch myself.Why do you care if she thinks you’re old?
Irritation crawls up my spine. Enough of this.
Uncrossing my legs, I plant my elbows on my knees and lean forward. “This isn’t a negotiation.”
She blanches.
“You want it back, you find it.”
Her lips tighten into a resigned line. “Are there any rules?”
I cock my head to the side. “It’ll be inside the castello.” After a moment, I add, “And don’t let me catch you looking for it. If I see you’re getting close, I’ll move it to a new spot.”
“You want me to sneak around behind your back?”
“Call it whatever you want. These are my rules,” I say even as my heart pounds out a guilty beat.
She’s young. She’s De Rossi’s sister. She’s already a big enough problem as is.
And yet we left Ibiza less than an hour ago, and I’ve already discovered I can’t seem to keep my eyes off her fucking legs.
Better keep her occupied and out of my damned sight.
CHAPTER4
MARTINA
We landon a tiny grass airstrip somewhere in Italy. There’s no airport—only a hangar, fields, and a few homes in the far distance, their windows flickering with orange light.
It’s been an hour since Giorgio confiscated my phone and my opinion of him has rapidly soured. He might be handsome, but he’s a jerk.
I’m raging.
Seriously, what’s his problem?
“I think you might benefit from less screen time.”Who asked him for his opinion?
While the plane taxis down the runway, he takes out his phone and starts typing out a text, rubbing salt in the wound.
My fists clench.
I get the distinctive feeling Giorgio’s decided to make me his problem, and I don’t like it one bit. All I want is to be left alone. Where is the man I met by the pool who told me how bad he is, and how I should stay away? I thought I’d be living withthatversion of him.
This version? He cares too much. Of course, I’m not saying he cares aboutme. He doesn’t even know me. But Dem probably told him to keep a close eye on me or something along those lines, and Giorgio’s clearly taken the task to heart.
My desperation to get my phone back is making me nearly feral. I’ll get it back tomorrow. Ihaveto. The way I rely on that device should make me pause, but honestly, I don’t care enough to examine it. The itch has already returned, and I know it’ll just get worse. I need to be able to message Imogen. It’s how I stay sane.
I drag my hands over my face. No way I’m doing any of the other “activities” Giorgio proposed. They all sound exhausting. Really, just thinking about them makes me feel tired.
The plane rolls to a stop. Both Giorgio and I rise at the same time, and the space between our seats is so small that his sleeve brushes against my arm. He drops his heavy gaze to my face. “A half-hour drive, and we’ll be there.”
I curl my fist around his jacket and hand it to him. “I don’t need this anymore.”
He scans my body with a lazy flick of his eyes, then pushes the jacket back to me. “Yes, you do. It’s cold out here at night.”
