Page 2 of The Temptation

“Put me down, you …stronzo(Arsehole),” she yells, and despite her calling me an arsehole, I bark out a laugh. I’ve always found her fiery side appealing.

When she starts to beat her fists against my backside, Alexander steps in. “I believe Lucia asked you to put her down.”

“I’m just following orders,” I reply, turning to face him.

“My brother told you to manhandle her? I highly doubt that.”

“He told me to get her to a safe house.”

As soon as those words are out of my mouth, Lucia pauses her assault on my body. “A safe house? Why?” she screeches.

“We have a situation.”

“What kind of situation?” she and Alexander ask in unison.

“Giuseppe Salvatori is currently en route to Australia.”

Lucia’s audible gasp is the first thing I hear, followed by Alexander’s “Fuck.”

“He’s come to get me, hasn’t he?” she asks through a shaky breath. The fear I hear in her voice tugs at my black heart.

I slide her down the front of my body, and it’s not until she’s back on her feet that I realise my mistake. She’s close … too close.

There’s a quiet intensity in her gaze, vulnerable and unwavering, as if she is trying to read the truth in my face.

“I’ll never let that happen,” I answer, using the tip of my finger to sweep a lock of her long, dark hair from her forehead.

It’s a move that feels way too intimate, one I shouldn’thave made, especially now that those damn cartoon-heart eyes of hers—the ones Dante always teases me about—seem to have returned.

For the past few months, I’ve been lucky if I even get a smile from this woman. Since I pulled away, creating some serious distance between us to show her I wasn’t interested, she’s been scowling or turning her nose up every time our eyes meet.

I place my hand on her shoulder, turning her towards the lift. “Come,” I say as I start walking.

When she falls into step beside me and slips her dainty hand into mine, I freeze. I immediately shake it from her hold because I can’t let her get the wrong idea.

She needs to understand this isn’t a romantic getaway for two. She’s in grave danger, and there’s no room for mixed signals or distractions. If I’m going to keep her safe, I need to stay focused, which means keeping my distance.

“If I’m going to protect you, Lucia, you’ll need to get over whatever infatuation you think you have with me. It’s distracting, and frankly, I don’t like it. So, before this goes any further, you have to understand one thing.” I gesture my hand between us as I continue. “I’m not the guy you’re imagining, and this … whatever this is … it can never happen.”

Her lips purse, and that damn scowl of hers returns as she crosses her arms over those perky tits that I’m trying so hard not to notice.

“Infatuation? Huh,” she huffs. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, hotshot. I can barely stand to be in the same room as you.”

“Good, let’s keep it that way,” I mumble, grasping her elbow again. “Now that we’ve got that settled, let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“Oh my God, you have a puppy,” Lucia coos when we pull up outside the front of my place. “I always wanted a puppy growing up, but Papa was abastardo(Bastard) and wouldn’t let me get one.”

“It’s a fully grown guard dog, not a puppy,” I growl, barely keeping my patience in check.

I’m already at my wits’ end with this woman. We went to Dante’s house first to pack some of Lucia’s belongings, and I swear, I’d rather wrestle with an eight-foot fucking crocodile than deal with her antics right now. She’s been teasing me all day, acting like she’s completely oblivious to the effect she has on me.

I had to stand there and watch her pack every skimpy piece of clothing she owned, including her underwear. Each garment was more revealing than the last, and by the end, I was struggling to act unaffected as my cock continued to swell in my trousers.

No matter how fiercely I resist visions of her in that cursed lingerie, they continue to claw their way into my mind. It felt like a sadistic game designed to break me, and I was the unwilling player.

They’re now filed away in my memory like the real-life image of her in that barely there bikini she came waltzing out of the house in months ago, when I was guarding her and Arabella while Dante was in Italy.

That memory still haunts me. Her flawless olive skin glowed in the sun, every delicious curve on display, and that damn flirty look she gave—like she knew exactly what she was doing—still plays on repeat in my head. I’ve tried to scrub that day from my mind countless times, but it’s useless. It’s ingrained into my fucking brain.