Page 107 of Tainted Obsession 1

“What?” I’m not sure if I heard him correctly.

“I’ll buy it for you,” he elaborates. “But if you don’t like the space, we’ll find somewhere else.”

I shake my head, my eyes stinging. “It’s too much.”

He captures my cheeks in both hands, holding me as though I’m his most precious treasure. “Nothing is too much for you.”

“But I didn’t earn it,” I protest.

My heart tugs toward his. I want to accept, but I can’t quite shake the lingering sense of unworthiness.

His expression turns stern. “Did you earn your degree?”

“Yes, but I’ve never sold my art. I’ve never been featured in a gallery. You can’t buy success for me.”

“I’m not buying your success; that will be your own, and I won’t take it from you. But I can provide the space where you can reach others with your art. Whether you succeed or not will be up to you. But I have faith that you will.”

“I love you.” The words rush from me in a burst of pure emotion.

His eyes widen with awe for a fraction of a second before he crushes his lips to mine, as though he wants to taste the promise of my devotion on my tongue.

He steps toward me, never breaking our kiss as he directs me into the privacy of the back room, away from the large shop window where passersby might see us. He pushes me up against the wall and shoves my dress over my thighs.

“Tell me again,” he commands, grabbing my pussy in a rough, possessive grip.

“I love you,” I moan, rocking my hips into his hand, seeking stimulation.

My clit pulses with pleasure as he grinds his palm against it, his fingers dipping between my slick folds. I’m ready for him, desperate to feel him inside me, making love to me. I feel his love in every lash of his tongue against mine and in the harsher graze of his teeth over my lower lip.

“All mine,” he growls into my mouth, lavishing me with hungry kisses.

He rotates his hand against my sensitive flesh, and I cry out at the burst of pleasure.

“Your whore is beautiful, but I’d rather see my hands on her.”

I yelp at the new, unfamiliar voice. Massimo whirls, placing his massive body between me and the crass stranger.

Five men crowd into the back room with us. They’re all armed, and the one at the center of the group—the man who’d spoken—holds a gun trained on Massimo’s heart.

I cringe at the sight of his scarred face, which is twisted in a maniacal leer.

He jerks his chin in the direction of the back wall, and I note the open door for the first time. It leads into a darkened space, and I glimpse a concrete wall and stairs.

“We’re going into the basement. I wouldn’t want anyone to hear your slut screaming.”

“You’ll be the one screaming,” Massimo snarls, his huge body swelling with protective rage. “You’re a dead man, Rocco.”

Our assailant barks a cruel laugh. “Who’s holding the gun here?” he challenges. “I’ll shoot you if you reach for your weapon, and then you won’t be alive to watch me play with her. That would be a shame. I’ve been dreaming of the day I get to destroy you for what you did to my face, and you won’t rob me of the satisfaction.”

“You killed my parents,” Massimo growls, and my heart skips a beat. “I should’ve ended you that day. You will not touch Evelyn.”

Rocco sneers. “I think you’ll find that I will touch her as much as I want.” He nods in the direction of the basement again. “Go on. Or I’ll make it hurt worse.”

Massimo reaches for me, taking my hand in a vise grip. “It will be okay,farfallina,” he promises. “I’ll keep you safe.”

I wish I could believe him, but even he isn’t capable of surviving a bullet to the heart.

“I’ll go with you,” I tell the monster who’d murdered his parents. “Don’t hurt Massimo.”