Page 16 of Wicked (Wicked Billionaires #2)

DANTE

“And what say you, Dante? What say you?” Holy shit. I’ve walked straight into hell.

I look back at Raven and think fast. “I do not honestly know,” I say. “But as I live the life of a man on the sea, perhaps like a modern-day pirate in New York, it is perhaps best my heart belongs to the ocean.”

My uncle lifts his chin and contemplates my words.

“Fascinating, Dante. But do not forget, the clock ticks away, and as you know, I failed to find love again after losing my wife, your Aunt Mia. Do not tempt Old Man Time, son.” I avoid Raven’s face as my uncle raises an eyebrow.

“Now, on that note, I must continue my campaign to conquer hearts and minds. I shall see you up at the castle soon.”

“Arrivederci,” I say before my uncle and Raven say their goodbyes.

After Raven and I exchange our empty flutes for full ones, we walk on.

“I believe you tricked me, sir.”

“Unless I am wrong, I did not!” I say. “You merely assumed I worked at the castle.”

Raven raises a perfect brow, stops and turns to me.

She is now close, and I can smell her. Really, I want to taste and smell the real her, but her perfume is crisp and unique. I lean in and I speak low. “You and your cute little butt simply assumed I was mere staff.”

Raven shakes her head slowly. “I will accept your apology, sir, but be aware I have my eye on you.”

After she theatrically puts an arm out, I take it, and we walk on. I get to thinking, and her gesture, being here, and home, plus her playful pure energy, reminds me of how my parents had acted together when I was young, when they were going out.

Refined, polite, and elegant.

I file that quickly under WTF, and as we walk on, I side-eye her.

Raven has shot up to a twelve on the attractiveness scale, and I am suddenly anxious about her returning to the world this hot and a virgin.

Her transition from hot mess in a sports car to gorgeous goddess is astounding, and it is hard to process.

As we walk on, she swishes her dress playfully. Even if there are many stunning women here, the combination of her eyes, hair and that spectacular gold gown really are something.

It’s as if she has walked straight off a fragrance commercial shoot or a fashion magazine cover.

“So, in terms of tradition, how do I greet you then? In the morning or during the day, sir?”

I grin. Even if I’m usually serious, it will kill time and color the evening. I am still searching for two faces in over a hundred, so no harm done.

“I have noble blood, for starters.” Which is true, even if around five generations ago, and only a viscount.

“You may consider the following,” I say, trying to be playful. “Greet me with a twist of the head or a sly look. A daring glare may even work. The playful scowl that you seem to have mastered will also suffice, as will one of your cheeky pouts .”

Raven blushes. I landed my blows. She is spectacularly cute, and I remind myself it’s dangerous to bring her here. Here, where there are other men, and Italians to boot.

No one can get in her pants.

No one!

Including me.

I’m usually cold and reserved, especially in the boardroom, but here and now, for whatever reason, Raven’s playful energy is calming me and making me more… human.

I am unsure how I feel about it but screw it. I can afford to loosen up some for now, and I will never lose my knife edge competitive side or my commanding cold side.

Thinking fast, I compile a rough list of names.

“Call me… Savage, Brute, or Sir.”

As we walk, Raven turns her perfectly made-up eyes on me. Her lower lip drops, and she gives me a filthy disbelieving glare.

As we pass a bored, snooty, overly bred couple, I talk low. “That’s it! That is the look.”

The temptress laughs, and she tosses her head back.

We stop with our champagnes, and we are now near the dance floor. I’m about to ask Raven if she feels like a walk around the property to see a collection of marble statues, but I’m too slow.

A cocky young man-boy Raven’s age walks up, and he takes Raven in. He is in his mid-twenties, and he appears weak, likely overbred.

“Good evening, sir and madam,” he says in Italian. “Do you care to dance, madam?”

It’s disrespectful of him to ask her directly, but Raven is wearing no rings, and these are modern times.

My eyes darken and the dangerous side of me rises. I am instantly possessive, and inside I growl. Raven and I share a look, and our eyes hold.

“Madam?”

My primal instincts kick in and they don’t like it or him. Without acknowledging him, I talk slow, low, and deep. “The woman is mine.”

Raven lifts her chin, and she looks into my eyes. The boy is slow in leaving, and I inhale. “Leave.”

The boy-man leaves faster than he arrived, and Raven watches me close. I’m unsure what she’s thinking, but our eyes finally return to the evening and social occasion.

She cannot be mine because I will ruin her and scar her for life.

In saying that, I want to claim her as mine. I need to make her unravel, and I need to shatter her world.

The thing is, she cannot be mine… but she cannot belong to another. I forbid it!

As Raven and I walk around the property, we are oddly silent. As if something has changed.

There is something growing between us, and I will have to watch it. I cannot afford to be distracted now, by her or by anyone.

Finally, she stops, and she hands me her flute. “If you will.”

Raven lifts her long gown, and she walks elegantly for the ladies’ room across the lawn.

I focus on finding my sister and my eyes sweep the tables and dancers. My sister and I are close; we talked only yesterday.

After several minutes, I see her talking to old friends. I walk over, and we hug long and hard. As always, Bianca beams positive energy, and I love her for it.

“Dante, welcome home, darling!”

“Grazie, and great to see you!” I say as we walk away from the group.

“Strange to be back?”

Bianca is one of the few in the family I can be honest with, and she knows me well.

“It is, but it’s good to see you and the family, plus spend time in the castle.”

“I know, right?” Bianca says. “All those crazy times as kids there.” I force a smile and worry about the castle sale. “Terrible news, but what can we do?” she asks.

My jaw tenses, and we look across the party. I catch a glimpse of Raven in the distance, and she is walking back.

“So, how is the farm, and how are the horses?” I ask. Bianca invested heavily the last few years in her passion.

“Great. Really. It’s going perfectly.”

“Fantastic. Well done, and how about the love life?”

“Not bad. Early days still. He’s away in the US a lot.”

“Well, it’s good you’ve found him, and good luck,” I say.

Bianca’s first marriage to a spoiled mayor’s son ended in disaster. He was another spoilt loser who later hit the bottle and coke. The elite’s disease is a cliché, and comfort has always made people weak.

As we walk on, I try to keep an eye on Raven. I must be losing my edge, because Bianca pauses, confused. “Is some minx stealing your focus?”

I look toward Raven so she can follow my eyeline. “One o’clock. Cream and gold ball gown.”

Bianca stands close, leans on my shoulder, and lines her eye up. “Got her.”

We watch Raven far across the lawn, and something inside me hungers.

“Wow, she really is stunning. Is she with you?”

My sister gives me a look, and I ask, “What?” Bianca raises a brow, and it’s time to contain things and set her straight. “Okay. She’s a sweet American girl and staying at the villa. She’s new to the game,” I say, feeling protective.

“Well, keep an eye on her, Dante. There are plenty of cheeky young Italians who will jump at the chance to tear her panties off.” I clench my jaw and darkness clouds in fast. Bianca shrugs, and she is playful. “Not that there’s much we can do about it.”

The hell there isn’t.

Bianca’s name is called from a table, and we turn to people waving. As she kisses me on the cheek, she talks fast. “Call me and we’ll see each other in a few days.”

I nod as she looks to Raven. “And careful with her, she looks sweet.”

As my sister runs away, Raven heads towards me, her long gown swaying, her step light.

I watch her as if she is a moth traveling towards lethal light. Like a princess heading for a disaster.

This is going to end badly, very badly indeed.

When she is feet away, she raises a brow. “What?”

“Nothing,” I say, “Let’s get some real drinks.”

We find a bar under a tree, and we decide to compare incredibly old whiskeys. We order six in small crystal glasses, and we ask for them to be labelled and delivered to a small table next to roses and statues.

Raven borrows a pen and paper from the waiter, and I decide the best way to do this is to have a blindfold, then for each person to guess which whiskey is which and ultimately the absolute best.

We start and Raven goes first. Seeing her blindfolded makes me iron hard, and fast. After she licks wet whiskey from her wet lips, I pull at my black tie and try to breathe. It is hard, like my thick cock.

I want to do bad things with her lips, and I want to force something between them. We eventually finish the game, and because it is a draw, we decide to do it again.

After the second round of blindfolding, whiskeys, and me imagining doing wicked things to her, we are both clearly drunk.

“Yikes,” Raven says, standing awkwardly. “I think I’m feeling the effects.”

I am also, and as I offer my arm, Raven takes it. “We better slow down. Champagne flows hard and fast at these kinds of events. It’s also good for taking pants off.” Raven looks my way as we start walking. “Just be careful,” I say, passing Italian men eyeing her.

“What do you care?” Raven asks, slightly flirty, or is it slightly confrontational?

As she leans against my shoulder, she places a playful finger on my nose. “Ah, so sweet.” As she spins away, she is part crazy woman, part free energy.