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I startle. Matteo is leaning in at the door, my panties gone, his face serious again. I reach for the hairbrush and run it through my hair, only now noticing the diamonds on my finger as they catch the light. Holy hell. “Whose was this?” I ask. It’s not the design that gives away its age, rather the worn white gold of the wedding band that hasn’t been polished in a while.
“My mom’s.”
“Matteo—”
“Don’t lose them. If anything goes wrong while we’re in Sicily?—”
“What could go wrong with a virgin auction?” I ask as I put the hairbrush back. “Except me no longer being a virgin?”
He steps up behind me and has my back against his chest with my arm trapped between us, his other hand on my throat, pressing and pushing up so that I’m forced to look at him in the mirror.
“You have plans then?” Matteo hisses. “To fuck one of my bodyguards and lose your virginity? Hmm?” His hand glides down my throat, releasing the pressure, gentle again. “Let me warn you, kitten, that as a common prostitute you’ll take decades to pay off your dad’s debts, even if you fuck twenty guys a day.” His hand glides lower, over my breast and my nipple, which is already hard at the tease of his breath on my skin. “What we plan is one night only with a billionaire who pays and doesn’t ask questions.”
He’s staring at me, his eyes angry, and I’m flushed with the heat of his words, at the visual he’s creating in my head. His hand tugs at my skirt, lifting it. Then his fingers are warm on my thigh, his thumb stroking the soft skin, ever closer to my sex. “Which would you prefer?” he whispers into my ear as his thumb finally strokes over my mound, teasing the tip of my sex. “Serving twenty guys a day for years or one perverted prick for one night only?”
His thumb slides between my lips where I’m wet and wanting, desperate for more of him. I’m whimpering now, the cruelty of his words in contrast with the gentle caress he runs over my sex, dipping in to tease my clit.
“Look at me in the mirror, and tell me, kitten.”
Now another finger is circling my clit. A minute more of this and I’ll come. I lean back into him, wanting to come so badly, wanting to go all the way with him. I bite my lip, trying to resist, but he shifts his other hand, putting pressure back on my neck.
“A whore for life, or a whore for one night, Tasha. Choose.”
Now I want to cry, wrecked by his expert touch, broken by his cruel words, the way he murmured my name. “Yours,” I whisper, my eyes begging as I stare directly into his, “for one night.”
The idea has been building in my head. He’s so rich he won’t even miss the change. And with the way he’s touched me, everything about him… If I’m brutally honest with myself, I want it to be him. Ever since the other night it’s been all I’ve been thinking of when I’m not overwhelmed by anything else.
A look of disgust flashes over his face, and he retracts his hand. I moan as the delicious build-up in my body stalls.
“You’re just merchandise to me, kitten. Don’t you ever forget that.”
We don’t touch the merch. Ever.
Matteo watches me in the mirror as he licks the shine of my juices from his fingers. The gesture is so sexual, so erotic, that a fresh gush of arousal seeps from my sex. “Plus, you flatter yourself. Your little auction isn’t the first order of business I’ll attend to in Sicily.”
Oh God. Somehow words come back to me. Something about people cutting off fingers to get to these rings, without asking questions. There’s much more to this trip than just my auction. I’ve been such a naive idiot to think otherwise.
He slides his hands down my arms. “Now you’re going to be a good girl and walk off this plane with a smile on your face, holding my hand like a good little wife so we can get safely to our estate. Understand?”
“Yes.” And even if I didn’t, I won’t do anything dumb like run. I might flash anybody my aroused sex.
In the end all I could do was focus on keeping my skirt down with one hand, while walking so close to Matteo that the other side got pressed down by his leg, clinging to him as the breeze swept over the tarmac. Matteo knew the weather was going to be like this. Sunny and hot with a breeze. He picked my dress especially for this and then—ugh.
We don’t even go near the public terminal, where there’s a crowd I could blend and disappear into. With this pink dress I’ll stand out like a running target should I bolt. Not that I can run; although my head is clearing, my body is dumb with a lagging dose of drugs. An SUV with blacked-out windows waits for us, with two other cars as our entourage.
Another chance slips through my fingers.
I’m starting to suspect this is a chess game and he is ten moves ahead, whereas I’m only a pawn with very limited moves.
27
TASHA
Once the road from the airport leaves behind an industrial zone, it heads into the country. For a long while we pass through farmland, vineyards, olive groves and small towns, scattered houses that thin along the way as the landscape becomes more rural. Then the road descends and we’re hugging the coast, the beautiful blue of the Mediterranean only outshone by the blue of a midsummer sky.
“Where’re we going?” I ask.
Matteo is sitting next to me where I’m strapped to the middle seat, Burley’s bulk walling me in on the other side.
