Page 24 of Shattered King

Fiorella

I rip open his top drawer, take a handful of his underwear, and throw it over my shoulder. “Come on, you asshole,” I mutter to myself, digging around. “Seriously? Nothing ?” Only a stack of old condoms under his socks. I glare at them. “Guess he does know how to use protection after all.”

I move on to the next drawer and the next. I find a gun under his t-shirts, but otherwise, there’s nothing. I try his nightstand, rooting around pens, old half-used pads of paper, packs of gum, Chapstick, and other random crap.

“Shit, shit, shit!” I hurl an old pair of pliers he had inexplicably under the mattress across the room before slumping down to the floor with my back to the bedframe, my heart racing in my throat.

I close my eyes. All I can see is Luca. His arms around me, terrifying at first, but quickly turning into something much worse.

His mouth on mine and my desire like a train repeatedly slamming over me.

The second our mouths touched, I was totally finished.

I can still feel him between my legs, and my ass is sore from where he spanked me.

“Fuuuuuck,” I groan, tilting my head back and staring at the ceiling.

This doesn’t have to be the end for me. I press a hand against my belly. I never wanted this baby, but I don’t have to let this situation defeat me. I’ve made it through worse. I’ve suffered more than most people, and I’m still here.

Last night was a mistake. Straight up, it was a mistake. Even waking up this morning still snuggling up against him was a mistake. Smelling him was a mistake, smiling at him was a mistake, letting his lips lightly brush mine as he got out of bed was a mistake.

I know better. And I keep screwing up.

“Quit being such an idiot, Fiorella,” I mutter to myself and slowly get back to my feet. “Now, if I were Luca, where would I keep my cash?”

Forget about how good it felt to spend the night with him.

He only said all those nice things because he wanted to get in my pants.

Don’t let yourself get played .

I check the extra bedroom, but there’s nothing.

His office has a wad of twenties hidden behind a bottle of nice-looking whiskey in the bottom drawer of his desk.

I pocket all of it. There’s more under the cushions of the couch downstairs and more hidden inside an empty chicken nugget bag in the back of the freezer.

In all, I have a decent little haul. A couple thousand dollars won’t feed me and Elisa for long, but it’s a start. I carry the cash back upstairs, pull a bag down from the top rack in the closet, and jam everything inside. As I’m shoving it back into place, I hear the front door open and close.

Luca calls my name.

I flinch and hurry from the closet, heart racing.

Is he going to notice the money’s gone? And if he does, what’s he going to think?

I’m already starting to come up with excuses.

Maybe I can tell him I needed to pay off some debts or I just wanted a little cash to spend on clothes or something.

He might not even mind that. Hell, he might even give me more.

Luca’s waiting for me near the front door.

I slow as I head down toward him. My heart suddenly races, and my mouth goes dry.

He’s so damn handsome. I can almost forget how attracted to him I really am when he’s not around, but standing there, all big and muscular and tattooed, it’s really hard to ignore.

Everything about him pulls me closer.

The curve of his lower lip. The smoldering stare he gives me, like it’s painful how much he wants to crush my mouth with his.

The bulge of his chest, the cut of his jeans cupping his tight ass, those thighs like hammers.

God, and the ink, terrifying and sexy all at once.

Like he doesn’t give a fuck what anyone thinks about him.

He’s everything I hate. And everything I want.

“I have a surprise for you,” he says, his lips tugging into a little smile as I approach.

God, I hate that.

How happy he seems to see me.

And how I’m smiling a little bit too because his surprises are usually very good.

“Should I be worried right now?”

“Probably, but only if you hate fun.”

“Definitely worried then.”

“Go grab your phone then follow me.”

My eyebrows arch. “What do I need my phone for?”

“We’re not coming back for a few hours.”

I glance over my shoulder and back to him. “I don’t know?—”

“Fio, just trust me.”

I chew my lip. No part of me thinks trust should enter into this equation. I trusted a man like him once before, and it screwed me over big time.

But I can’t help myself. With a sigh, I hurry back upstairs and rapidly get changed. I throw on jeans instead of sweats, pull on a decent black top, fix my hair the best I can, and shove my phone into my pocket.

“I was about to come up there and drag you back down,” he grumbles as I skip down the steps two at a time.

I land a little awkwardly and stumble into him. He steadies me with a teasing smirk.

“Then maybe I should go back up and see if you can catch me.”

“Much as I’d like that, we don’t have time. This is a one-afternoon thing. Come on.” He heads outside, and I follow.

“If you’re about to take me to something like the Renaissance Fair, please tell me now. I’m not a medieval kind of gal.”

“Better than that.”

“One of those movies with dinner and drinks?”

“Even better.”

“Oh, laser tag.”

He pauses and looks surprised. “That’s better?”

“I love laser tag.”

“Noted.” He puts an arm around me. “But better.” We walk to the end of the block, and he turns left toward a shady spot lined with trees.

I slow and come to a complete stop, my mouth falling open. He keeps going, looking smug.

Under other circumstances, I’d want to slap that smirk off his face.

But all I can do is stare.

“That’s not what I think it is,” I say, taking a step forward.

“This is the 1975 Alfa Romeo 2000 Spider Veloce Series 2. Not the exact same model as what you’re rebuilding, but?—”

I walk around the car, my heart racing, my mouth hanging open. “Twin-cam 2-liter four, around 130 horses, five-speed manual, dual Weber carbs, independent front suspension?—”

He beams at me dangerously and dangles keys from his finger. “Want to take it for a spin?”

I stand there for all of three seconds before I straight up attack him. He laughs as I grab the keys and throw myself behind the wheel like a rabid animal. I sink into the plush leather seat and stare at all the original dials, rubbing the steering wheel like petting a cranky old dog.

“Where the hell did you get this?” I whisper, stomach twisting with excitement. I hover the key over the ignition and start squirming like an impatient little kid.

“Borrowed it from a friend. You were upset last night, and I wanted to do something for you.”

I turn and stare at him. Which is a feat, considering how much I love this car. “You really do give a shit, don’t you?”

He shrugs slightly. “Unfortunately.”

I jam the key in and crank it.

The engine purrs to life, and I nearly orgasm and die right there on the spot. “Fuuuucking hell,” I moan.

“You are so fucking hot right now. And I’m also weirdly jealous.”

“Don’t be.” I stroke the gear shift. “It can’t fuck me. But it can definitely satisfy.”

“I’m going to burn this car to the fucking ground.”

“After I drive it, please.” I lean across the car, heedless of how stupid it is, and I kiss him. I run my fingers through his thick hair, mauling his mouth with mine, giddy and excited.

“Keep kissing me like that and I’ll steal this fucking thing for you.”

I laugh, put it into gear, and hit the gas.