Page 5

“You can’t make me do a damn thing, pretty boy.”
His eyes narrowed as he stalked toward her. Oh, he so didn’t like to be called pretty.
She shoved the watch inside her sports bra and stepped away from the safe. It could never hurt to create some space, just in case she needed to kick his ass.
“I don’t like to repeat myself.” His tongue spewed more icicles her way.
“Good to know,” she scoffed, and put her hands on her hips.
“You are going to regret this.” He pointedly took position in front of the door.
“Doubtful.”
With her sister’s battered body fresh in her mind, she lunged at him, colliding with his hard body.
Unfortunately, Giovanni Detta didn’t go down the way she had expected. Instead, he made some weird ass street fighter move, and she ended up on her ass.
He towered over her in his expensive Italian suit.
“Stay down.”
It wasn’t so much as what he said, but the chill in his voice that had her taken aback.
“I can’t stand thieves, especially when stealing from their boss, but maybe Antonio will take pity on you.”
“Yeah well, I can’t stand arrogant assholes,” she replied, jumping back on her feet. “Also, I don’t need anyone’s pity.” She’d had enough of that during the year she feared losing the use of her arm. Everyone around her treating her like an invalid. That is, everyone but her grandfather. Antonio Rossi didn’t do pity. According to him, either you conquered your fear, or your fear conquered you.
The second time she attempted to get past him, she tried a different tactic. She saw the surprise in his eyes, when she slowly walked up to him and put a hand on his chest.
“How about you let me go and I don’t hurt you?” She gently tapped his shoulder.
Other than his nostrils flaring, he didn’t show any outward emotion. His arctic blues were just as frosty as before.
“Never make a threat you can’t deliver,bella.”
There was a rasp to his voice that had her skin tingling. Oh, his voice; it was dark, sensual, and smooth as silk. The kind that would have her splayed at his feet if she were as shallow as to only care about his beautiful exterior. Because that, he was. He had the whole tall, dark, and handsome look going for him. The only imperfection on him was the scar on his left brow which, to her, made him all the more perfect. However, beauty on the outside meant nothing if your insides were rotten.
Jazzy gave him a sweet smile and raised her knee. He blocked her kick that should have landed in his nuts, and spun her around. Her back pressed against his chest, his arm around her neck. She was trapped, or so he thought.
She dropped her legs, making herself heavy, and felt him keel over. Using his moment of surprise, she pulled back his thumb, almost breaking it, and he let her go with a curse. She stepped back, and planted a kick to his stomach, making him slam against the door. The same door she wanted to get through. It was time for Giovanni Detta to go down.
The second time she tried to knee him in the balls, he ducked, grabbed her leg and twisted it, making her lose her balance.
She ended up on her back with him on top of her, the breath pressed from her lungs. He was effectively using his bulk to keep her pinned to the floor.
“Get off of me!” Jazzy tried to kick him off her, but he felt like he weighed a ton.
He pressed his hand on her throat, effectively cutting off any further protest from her lips. Her heart beat like a drum, freezing her limbs, and a buzz started in her ears.
Breathe in…
Breathe out…
Images of another time, in another room flashed before her eyes. She closed her eyes and counted to ten to regain her composure.
“I don’t take orders,bella, I give them.”
When Jazzy reopened her eyes—after counting to at least sixty—she found Detta watching her, a curious expression on his face. He had placed both his hands next to her head, holding her down with pure muscle. Oddly, her fear dissipated the second she looked into his eyes. He was watching her mouth, the same way she was looking at his sensual lips. Could a man even be described as having sensual lips? She had no idea. Her breath hitched, and she felt her body relax, as if deep down—in her core—she knew he wasn’t going to hurt her. She felt a slight disappointment that he had bested her, but more than that, she felt heat. Overwhelming, confusing heat, covering her from her head to her dainty toes. And judging by the growing bulge against her stomach, she wasn’t the only one affected.