Page 61 of Tainted Obsession 1

I won’t force her to talk with crude demands. Especially not when she’s clearly distressed. I can question her more deftly.

“All right,dolcezza.”

I smooth her shining hair back over her shoulder, revealing my mark that’s still visible on her slender neck. The sight of it calms me.

“Enjoy your meal,” I prompt.

She hasn’t touched her melon since I started questioning her, and I won’t neglect her needs. I pledged to take care of her, and I intend to keep her comfortable and happy with me.

She takes another bite. Again, her eyes close, and a serene expression chases away the lingering tension around her lush lips. Her features soften into something almost orgasmic.

My cock stiffens, and I crave to hold her close while she indulges in her sumptuous meal.

“You like it?” I ask, my voice slow and deep, like I’m drunk on her pleasure.

“Yes,” she replies before taking another bite.

She tries to keep her eyes on me, but her attention returns to the dish that’s bringing her such bliss.

“If I’d known how much you liked melon, I would’ve ordered some for you sooner.”

“I don’t get to have it as often as I’d like,” she confesses. “My stepsister has a lot of food allergies, so my options were very limited when I was growing up. Since leaving home for college, I’ve tried to enjoy more of a variety, but money has always been tight. A delicious meal is an indulgence. And George…”

Her eyes darken with pain again, and I have to tamp down my answering rush of murderous rage.

“Well, he controlled our budget. He earned more than I did on my teacher’s salary, so I couldn’t complain.”

“It’s a man’s job to provide for you.” My hatred for the cowardly piece of shit roughens my tone.

“That’s a very outdated view.” She sounds disapproving. “I contribute what I can. I’ll never take more than what I earn for myself.”

I cup her nape, keeping her locked in my steady stare. “You’re with me now. I will provide for you. Anything you desire is yours.”

She shifts, strangely uneasy in response to my declaration.

Irritation needles me. She will accept what I offer.

“You don’t have to work another day in your life,” I assert. “You don’t have to scrape by anymore. I will take care of you.”

Her brows rise. “And what if I want to work? What if I want to pay my own way? I don’t want to owe you anything, Massimo.”

Her defiance sets my teeth on edge. She’s rejecting my offer to provide for her. I won’t fucking allow it.

“Do you want to be a teacher?” I ask. “Because if teaching is your passion, I won’t stop you. But you don’t need to earn a salary anymore.”

Her full lips press to a thin line. “You’re being very presumptuous. What makes you think you can stop me from doing anything?”

“You’remine. You will never want for anything. So, if you want to teach, you are welcome to pursue that career.”

Once we’re in Naples, she can go to work as a teacher, as long as she shares my bed every night—as long as she understands that her home is with me.

She huffs an exasperated sigh. “I don’t particularly care about teaching. It just paid the bills. But you can’t order me around like this. I can support myself.”

I note the small admission. If she doesn’t want to work, why would she?

“And what would you rather do with your time?”

All she has to do is name it, and I’ll make it happen.