Page 40

C ontessa

The topic of watching Trilby walk down the aisle, looking more radiant than a buttercup in full bloom, will never get old. Sera, Allegra, Bambi and I have talked of nothing else, through the champagne and canapés, through photos, and through dinner. And now the lights have dimmed and the band has started to play, we still can’t stop marveling at how utterly beautiful she looks and how smitten Cristiano is.

Allegra and Bambi have gone to find Papa, leaving me and Sera to sip our wine and reminisce all over again. When Sera stops mid-sentence, her gaze arrested by something—or someone—behind me, I turn around and my heart expands. Benito is standing with one arm behind his back and the other outstretched toward me. “May I have a dance? ”

A nerve crackles through me. “I thought you said you didn’t dance.”

His brow dips into a frown. “I never said that.”

I glance back at Sera and she nods encouragingly.

I turn back around. “Okay, well, sure.”

He takes my hand and guides me to the dance floor. I feel the music instantly, as though it’s roots are coming up through the floor and entwining around my feet.

Benito lifts my arms and hook my wrists around his neck.

“Jeez, I’m going to get frozen shoulder dancing with my arms at this angle,” I moan.

His eyes roll. “Are you always this dramatic when you’re dancing?”

I’m about to shoot back a sarcastic quip but the feel of his hands sliding around my waist whips the breath from my lungs.

Seriously, though. He is enormous and my neck is already aching from craning upward.

“Okay, brat,” he sighs. “But just this one time.”

Before I can ask what he’s talking about, he scoots his large hands beneath my arms and lifts me until our faces are level.

Nerves make me glance about, searching for Allegra who may well, if she sees this, come storming over and demand to have him put me down.

He pulls me into his chest then somehow removes his hands from under my arms and wraps them around my back.

His eyes narrow and his full, dangerous lips move. “ What am I going to do with you, Contessa Castellano?”

I pull a lip between my teeth and slowly drag it out until it pops free. Benito watches it, swallowing. I dip toward his ear. “Nothing too extreme,” I whisper. “Just yet.”

His gaze is soft when I return it. Then he arches a brow. “Handcuffs? I could borrow Augie’s?”

I shake my head, fighting a smile.

His eyes narrow further. “Missionary?”

My core melts . Just that one, straight-laced, vanilla word has set my blood on fire. A vision of Benito lowering his weight onto me, pressing my thighs apart with just one of his solid legs, the ink on his chest dancing with the tension in his arms, and the feel of his cock sliding into me, makes my eyes glaze over.

“Fuck,” he drawls. “That’s it, isn’t it? Me on top of you. A nice, long, slow fuck.”

A rush of blood surfaces all over my skin.

“Take off my tie.”

My lids ping open.

“Your hands are already there,” he says, casually. “Just take it off and put it around your neck.”

My brows knit. “Why?”

“Can you just, for once, do something I ask without giving me the Spanish Inquisition?”

“Careful,” I warn. “I could strangle you.”

“I thought you didn’t want extreme just yet,” he smirks .

I smack his shoulder playfully. “I won’t ever want that , Bernadi.”

I push the smooth satin through the knot, gently pulling it free. It feels like such a raw, intimate thing to do for a man and a shiver down my spine makes him splay his fingers across my back.

The tie slips from around his neck and he watches me intently as I slide it around mine. I hold his gaze while I tie it into a loose knot beneath my collarbone.

He shakes his head, slowly. “You have no idea how sexy that is.”

“What now?”

A smile dances across his lips. “Oh… You’re looking for direction?”

My own smile falls. “Yes.”

He closes his eyes for a long moment. When he opens them again, they’re a little darker.

“Unbutton the top of my shirt.”

I suck in a surprised breath. “What? People will see.”

“Just the top two buttons. And trust me, no one is watching us.”

My fingers shake as I fumble with the buttons and slide them through the holes. My breath stutters when a fragment of his bare chest is revealed.

“You like that, huh?” Bernadi’s voice is gruff, like he’s barely holding himself together.

I swallow. “Not at all.”

“Oh,” he replies, leaning forward a little and brushing his top lip against my jawline. “You hate it. ”

My eyelids flutter shut and I momentarily forget where I am. “With every fiber of my being, Bernadi.”

“Ah,” he says, amusement tickling the edge of his tongue. He slides one hand down my back and presses me into his rock solid erection.

A fractured gasp leaves my lips.

“That’s a relief. I’d hate it if the feeling weren’t mutual. I mean, it could get a little awkward.”

“I, um… I agree.” I can hardly speak, I’m so turned on.

He stops swaying gently and leans forward so his breath brushes the shell of my ear. “Promise you’ll hate me forever.” His tone is laced with a vulnerable heat that sings in my veins.

“I promise.”

“Until death do us part?”

“Until death do us part.”

“Any last requests before I lock this down with a kiss in front of your entire family?”

My pulse thumps . He knows that if we’re seen kissing in public, both our families—the Castellano one and the Di Santo one—will insist on marriage. Maybe not yet, but eventually. And this is what he’s asking.

I smile into the cut of his jaw. “No more basements.”

“Got it. No more basements.”

Well, that was easy.

“No shooting people a foot away from my head.”

“Um, nope. Can’t promise that.”

Okay then. “No abductions. ”

“No abductions—of you anyway.”

I have no response to that and an eye roll doesn’t feel appropriate.

“Okay, my turn,” he says. “No more having my men deliver Michelin-starred food to the homeless.”

“Oh come on,” I pull back to look accusingly into his eyes. “There has to be a Good Samaritan in there somewhere.”

His response is a glare and a raised brow that says, “Do you not know what I do for a living?”

“Okay, fine. But then no more ordering ridiculous amounts of food you know I’m not going to eat.”

He rolls his eyes in response.

“I have another one. No assuming I could find it remotely possible to lie to you.”

He stares at me, eyes roaming my face, then he nods. Just when I think he’s about to kiss me, he whispers, “I love you.”

I kick my head back and laugh. “No you don’t—you hate me.”

A sharp tug on my ponytail cuts my breath. “That previous condition applies to you too.”

I dip my lips toward him, brushing my breath across his. “You know what they say—love and hate are just two sides of the same coin.”

He cups the back of my head in one hand. “Then it’s a good job I’m fucking rich. Now shut the fuck up little brat, and give me your mouth.”

Then he pulls my lips onto his and kisses me in front of the whole room.