Page 36 of Red Retaliation

Arianna looks at me - the man she perceives as barbaric. She might well be right, but I care little because I’m more interested in watching her lips form that perfect shape which is accentuated when she’s angry. Not that I’ll tell her in case she takes it as a compliment. Instead, I give her another of my best smiles - this time a cold, sarcastic and insincere one.

She thinks I’m lying and presumes I’ve killed her entire family. That’swhat animals like us Batemans do. Except she’s wrong.

I like being unpredictable.

“I don’t believe you,” Arianna glares accusingly at me. If looks could kill, I’d be dead. “Just tell me the truth!”

I laugh. Actually laugh. That will get her. I then glance at my watch, insinuating she’s taking up too much of my time, when in fact I’m enjoying every single second.

But I’ll put her out of her misery all the same.

“Iamspeaking the truth. Last night, I played things in a way that neither the Bristonis nor your family expected, but whether you believe that is up to you.” My eyes resume their normal icy stare, and all traces of a smile, sarcastic or otherwise, disappear. That’s the effect thinking of those Italian bastards has. “So yes, for the time being, your family are safe.”

I watch Arianna’s mind whir, deducing whether it’s possible I’m telling the truth. “Th-They are? They’re safe?”

I nod. “Like I said, for the time being.”

“What does that mean?”

She’s screeching again. She needs to stop. It gets on my nerves. “Less of the wailing. You’re giving me a headache.” I’m standing too close, and she’s already affecting me. I need to move because it’s time to unveil the good “news”.

I pace to the window. “I’ll return the phone you stole to its rightful owner, but don’t worry, I’ll say it fell out in here to save your embarrassment. In the meantime, I’ve booked a personal shopper from Harrods to attend you. She’s bringing more clothes and measuring you up.”

Arianna’s sarcastic retort sticks on the end of her tongue. My eyes dance with enjoyment watching the cogs in her brain turn harder.Will she ask or not?

This woman really gets to me. Watching her fight with her resolve not to lose her temper makes me hotter than is comfortable and blood rushes straight to my groin.

“Why do I need more clothes? You’ve already bought me enough to see me through for a few days. And Harrods?” Arianna scowls, looking even more frustratingly gorgeous. “That’s ridiculous!”

The throbbing of my cock intensifies.

“You’re doing this to irritate me!” she continues. “Do what you need to make your point with the Bristonis, but I don’t require any more things,unless you’re forcing me to remain here for no reason. Furthermore, why do I need to be measured up?”

I smile leisurely.Thisis the part I’ve been looking forward to. “From my experience of the amount of clothes women expect, I assume you’ll need plenty. And as mywife, I expect you to look presentable at the functions we attend!”

CHAPTER

25

Arianna

AT FIRST, I almost fall into his trap. Hiswife? I nearly fly off the deep end and react, but I don’t because Red Bateman wants to punish me for questioning him, the conceited, jumped up, piece of...

Narrowing my eyes, I glare at him, showing I don’t appreciate his pathetic games and ridiculous attempt at humor. But seeing his expression, ice rushes along my veins.

This man is serious!

Red adjusts his tie and folds his arms across his chest. As his shirt moves, I get a small glimpse of that tattoo under the edge of his starched white collar and again wonder what it is.

I inwardly shake away the meaningless question. What should it matter what he’s got tattooed? Nothing, short of that it underlines his lack of breeding and gives a further reason why I’d never marry him. Not that I require any more reasons. I already have plenty, but panic still clouds my senses in a cloying miasma.

I keep my voice level, the ability of doing this under the circumstances, astounding. “Are you insane? There’s no way I’ll marry you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Arianna.”

I don’t expect the laugh coming from between his lips and find myself looking at his mouth; the way his full bottom lip neatly sits above the tiny cleft in his chin.

Flatter myself?My panic gives way to anger. I’m not sure whether, despite what I promised myself, I can control it. I open my mouth to speak,but he gets in first.