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Alessandra didn’t have to see Luca to know he was smoking when he exhaled. He chuckled. “What makes you think I want to help you?”
“Because you owe me.”
“I don’t owe you shit, Alessandra. Maybe if you wear something sexy and beg on your knees where you belong—”
“Goodbye, Luca,” she snapped.
Alessandra jammed the red button on her phone, terminating the call immediately.
The elevator dinged, signaling Drake’s arrival in the private elevator. Her phone rang again, and the caller ID informed her it was Luca calling. She sent the call to voicemail and turned her phone off.
Stupid girl. I don’t know what you expected by calling him, Alessandra chastised herself.
A cloud of negativity preceded Drake’s exit from the elevator. Fuming, he stomped down the hall with his briefcase in hand and slammed the door behind him. Several minutes later, he returned with a generous glass of whiskey in hand. He loosened his tie and undid the top few buttons of his dress shirt.
“Whom were you talking to, bella? I’ve heard you’ve been quite the busy bee today.”
“Yeah, I thought I was married to a good man. Imagine my disappointment at finding out he is a lying scumbag.”
Drake stalked up to her, his eyes blazing. Alessandra flinched when he reached for her, but the hit she expected never came. He dropped his hands immediately, and his features twisted.
“When are you going to trust that I won’t hurt you like your piece of shit father or your ex?” he spat, but the hurt was clearly noticeable.
Alessandra ducked around him, but Drake wasn’t through. He grabbed her arm and spun her around.
“You better watch yourself, Alessandra. You’re dangerously close to earning a punishment.”
“No, I don’t think I am,” she challenged.
He pulled her against him and she twisted like a trapped cat, clawing against his chest. Drake’s breathing changed, and he lifted Alessandra’s chin up with a single finger, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“Who are you?” she asked.
Drake grabbed her wrists and crushed his lips against Alessandra’s, silencing her.
He scooped her up, carried her to the bedroom, and threw her on the bed.
“Strip,” he commanded.
Alessandra rose from the bed and slapped Drake hard enough to leave a mark, but to his credit, he didn’t flinch.
“I said strip.” His voice grated on gravel.
“Fuck off!” she yelled.
“Do you remember your safe word?”
“Hullabaloo,” she said with a nod.
Drake didn’t say another word, just grabbed Alessandra’s top and tore it off her body. His eyes darkened at the sound of the tearing fabric. The corners of his mouth lifted like a predator readying to feast on its prey.
“Fuck!” Alessandra crossed her arms, but Drake grabbed her and flipped her face-down on the mattress. He lifted her skirt, pulled off her panties, and spanked her hard. She barely concealed the shriek.
“You do not speak without my permission. I gave you the option to strip, which you refused. Will you be a good girl and remove the rest of these clothes? I’d be more than happy to tear the rest.”
He fisted the waistband of her skirt to prove his words. She remained silent.
“Answer me.”
