Page 9 of Brutal Crown

I take another step toward Lia, desperate to see a crack in her demeanor. But all I’m doing is complicating things for myself, making the torture of living under this roof harder than it already is. I have a freaking fiancée, for fuck’s sake.

And this isn’t the reason you kept her alive, you know that.

I know I should stop, end whatever this is, and ask her to leave.

But I don’t.

I let my gaze drag over her slowly, let my fingers drag down her side deliberately. I let her see that I’m thinking things I shouldn’t be thinking.

She doesn’t push me away or ask me to stop. I see her struggling to act unaffected by my touch, but it’s almost amusing, because I can also see the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she tries to control her breathing.

My eyes trail over the curve of her breasts, the flare of her hips, and down to her smooth legs. Every part of her is beautiful and inviting, like a fruit begging to be sucked.

It’s been two months since I felt a woman’s touch, as per La Mano Nera initiation demands before I carry out my rites. That want, that primal need, is gnawing at me for the first time since my abstinence.

And her body, standing right before me with fire in her blood and defiance in her eyes, is feeding something dangerous inside me.

“You wish,” she spits venomously before moving to side-step me.

I grit my teeth before grabbing her arm.

“Who are you to think you can walk away from me?”

Looking directly into my eyes, she counters. “Who are you to think I can’t?”

I take a slow step closer, crowding her space. I feel her stiffen slightly, but she doesn’t back down.

“Then you’re either very brave,” I say, my voice dropping to a near whisper beside her ear, “or very stupid.”

She shivers slightly, and I fight back the urge to touch her, to feel her softness beneath my hands.

Just as she opens her mouth, ready to throw something snarky back in my face, the library doors slam open with a bang.

“Francesco,” I hear my father’s voice. “With me. Now.”

I don’t look away from Lia. Instead, I lower my voice so only she can hear.

“I’ll find you again,” I promise.

Without waiting for her response, I turn and follow my father down the hall.

I should be focused on whatever my father wants to say to me. I should be thinking about my responsibilities and duties now that I’m back. About my freaking engagement party.

Instead, all I can think about is her.

3

LIA

Abreath escapes me as I rush into the room ahead, slamming the door shut with a solid thud. The lock clicks quietly as I slide it into place, leaning my back against the door.

I stand there for a moment, staring at the peeling paint on the walls of the small room that serves as my prison. The servants’ quarters are always cold. It’s one of the oldest parts of the Romano mansion. The stone walls retain a chill like an old grudge, unyielding even today.

I rub my arms, trying to shake off the shiver that creeps over me, but it’s not the temperature that’s really getting to me.

It’s him.

Francesco.