Salvatore(29)
Even if we wanted to. Did that mean he didn’t want to? And what did I want?
“I feel like a prisoner. I’m constantly watched. I couldn’t visit with my sister without Marco standing by. I have nothing to do here. You have a cook, people who clean…”
He looked confused. “You’re neither a cook nor a cleaner.”
“But I am your property. You said so yourself. I have a degree, I want to work, but—”
His mouth tightened, and he looked away for a moment. “Come into my study, Lucia.”
“Why?” I didn’t trust him. And as much as I hated to admit it, he scared me.
“So we can talk. That’s all.”
I didn’t move.
“I promise.”
After a moment, I nodded. He gestured for me to go ahead and followed close behind me, opening the door to the study once we reached it and letting me inside. Once he’d closed the door, he moved behind his large desk. I looked around the room. The walls were painted a dark shade of gray, and two windows overlooked the backyard and the forest beyond. The furnishings were made of a dark, heavy wood, and his desk, the focal point, must have been an antique. Directly before it stood a leather sofa, and the shelves along two of the walls contained floor-to-ceiling books. Set apart from the desk and sofa was an armchair, the leather well-worn, with a matching ottoman at its foot. The reading lamp behind the chair was on, and although it was sunny outside, this room remained darker. Masculine. Even the scent here was different, all man.
“Sit down.”
I realized he’d been watching me take it all in. I lowered myself to the couch and faced him, the desk looming between us, him sitting behind it, making me feel small. I smoothed the skirt of my sundress down, unsure what to do with my hands.
Salvatore got up and walked around his desk. Surprising me, he joined me on the couch.
It only made me more uncomfortable, though. If only he’d act like I expected him to…
“What do you know about me?”
I studied him, drawn to him, to his eyes. I remembered for a moment how the blue had turned nearly black when he’d been aroused. Remembered how he’d looked at me when I’d lain before him. How he’d taken me in. How he’d gripped his cock…
Then the image of what I’d found in his bedroom flashed across the screen of my memory.
I cleared my throat and focused on the firm set of his jaw instead of his eyes. The scruff along the chiseled line told me he’d probably not shaved in the two days he’d been gone, and it didn’t help my wandering mind. I lowered my gaze to his neck, to the exposed flesh there, the T-shirt hugging his powerful chest.
Shit. This wasn’t working. I was attracted to this man I wanted to hate. In spite of what he’d done, the physical attraction was like an energy between us, a living, breathing, scorching thing.
I closed my eyes and willed myself to focus. Opening them again, I forced myself to meet his eyes. But when I did, I saw what he saw. He knew his power over me.
“Were you with a woman the last two nights?” I blurted out.
He chuckled, apparently surprised. “Not like you think.”
So that was a yes?
“I felt ashamed of what I’d done. What I’d made you do.”
My neck and face heated.
“That’s why I left. I wasn’t with another woman. I wouldn’t be. We have a contract.”
“That binds me to you.” Nothing in the contract spoke of any obligation on his part, certainly not one to be celibate or faithful. It was not a marriage contract, after all.
“And me to you.”
Now I was confused. Salvatore leaned back and crossed his ankle over his knee.
“Let me ask you again, Lucia. What do you know about me? Or perhaps the better question is, what do you think you know?”
“I know you’re Franco Benedetti’s son.” I stuck my chin out. “That’s all I need to know.”
“I think you’re smarter than that.”
“I know your hand shook when you signed the contract.”
He paused, his gaze faltering momentarily. “I’m not firstborn. I was never intended to be in the position I’m in.”
“You mean, being your father’s successor?”
“Yes.”
“So you’re stuck with me? If your brother were alive, I’d be his.”
“I mean I am obligated to do many things, which I would not choose to do and do not condone.”
“Me, you mean. You wouldn’t choose me?”
“Stop putting words in my mouth.”
“Isn’t that what you’re saying?”
“Why don’t you try listening for a change and remember not everything is about you, Lucia.”