Page 51 of Read This Before the Villain falls in Love with You

She strains her tied wrists against the iron bars with a harsh rattle. "Then don't just stand there. Fuck me, Luca."

I pull out until the tip barely catches her entrance and slam back into her with brutal force. The heavy headboard smacks the wall in rhythmic cracks. Nora lets out a broken, high cry that rattles down her ribs, her heels digging into my hips as she meets every heavy stroke with demanding friction.

I reach between our sweating bodies, pressing my thumb hard against her swollen bundle of nerves while slamming into her without mercy. Her bandaged knees tremble around my ribs. She bites down on her bottom lip until blood wells against her teeth, her tied hands twisting the belt to pull herself toward every thrust.

I grip her jaw firmly with one hand while my thumb circles her center. "Keep your eyes open. Watch who is taking you."

Her eyes open, wide and dark. "I'm looking," she whispers, her breath trembling against my mouth. "I'm looking right at you."

I increase the speed, pounding into her with raw, feral possession. Every slam of my hips against her thighs drives the terror of almost losing her out of my head and replaces it with pure heat. Nora arches her neck back, her breath coming in ragged, broken gasps as she fights to stay grounded.

"Luca!" she screams into the dark room as her orgasm shatters through her. Her walls clamp down around me in fierce, pulsing waves, wringing every bit of control right out of my soul.

With a guttural roar against her throat, I bury myself to the hilt and empty myself inside her, shaking with the violent release as her arms lock around my neck to hold me tight against her heart.

We lie tangled in the wrecked bedsheets, our skin slick with sweat and our chests heaving in unison against the dark room. Her cheek rests against my collarbone, her breath hot and uneven against my pulse.

"You really are out of your mind, Moretti," she murmurs against my skin, though her fingers stay tangled in my hair.

I slide my arm around her waist, holding her tight so I can feel her pulse beat against mine. "Maybe. But you're safe. And you're not going anywhere."

Chapter 19

NORA

Three days ago, Dino and I nearly got wiped off the road. My ribs still throb from hitting the dashboard, and every loud exhaust pipe in the driveway makes my pulse jump into my throat.

Luca keeps claiming this estate is impenetrable, but sitting alone in his guest wing with nothing except my racing thoughts was driving me out of my mind. So yesterday afternoon, while Luca was down in the motor pool, I snuck into the library, grabbed an encrypted burner phone Matteo keeps hidden behind the encyclopedias, and locked myself in the adjoining washroom.

My fingers shook so hard on the keys I dialed twice before the line connected across the continent to North London.

"Blake residence," my mother’s voice chirped through the tiny speaker, accompanied by the familiar clatter of keys on her vintage typewriter. "If this is the dry cleaner, Oliver swore the stains were red wine, not stage blood."

"Mum," I breathed out, leaning my forehead against the cool marble tile. Just the sound of her voice felt like a glass of ice water in the desert.

"Nora Elizabeth!" she gasped, keys clattering to an abrupt halt. "Oliver! Put the duck down, our daughter has finally surfaced! Where on earth have you been for months? Did that Zurich paper tycoon finally stop screaming at his board?"

"Months without a single roast dinner," Dad’s booming baritone drifted from the background, punctuated by a wooden spoon striking an enamel stockpot. "I’ve had to feed your portion of Yorkshire pudding to the neighbor's golden retriever, Nora. The dog is getting chubby and you are neglecting your family duties!"

I let out a shaky, wet laugh, biting down on my thumb to keep my composure steady. "Zurich was messy, Mum. Lots of non-disclosure agreements. Terrible cellular coverage out here."

"Well, you sound hoarse," Mum diagnosed instantly, her keen writer's radar zeroing in through three thousand miles of copper wire. "Are you sleeping properly? Did you catch that dreadful Nordic chill? Or did some billionaire client try to cheat you out of your retainer again? Because if they did, I will write them into chapter six and give them a very embarrassing bout of food poisoning."

"Nobody cheated me, Mum. Just long hours," I lied smoothly, smoothing a hand over my bruised ribs. "And too much black coffee."

"Nora, listen to me," Dad cut in, his voice closer now as he clearly took the handset from her. "I perfected the cherry reduction sauce yesterday. If you are back in London by Friday, I will roast the beef rare and we can argue about your mother’s ridiculous poison plotline. She wants to use hemlock in a lemon tart. Hemlock! In pastry! It is an culinary insult."

"It is historically accurate, Oliver!" Mum shouted from across the kitchen.

"I have to wrap up a few loose ends here first, Dad," I managed, swallowing the thick lump lodged in my throat. "The contracts are taking longer than planned. But I'll be home soon. I promise."

"Drink some tea with honey," Dad instructed tenderly. "And wear a scarf. You work too hard, sweetheart."

"I will. Love you both."

I cut the call before they could notice my voice cracking, erased the log, and tucked the phone back where Matteo wouldn't notice. Calling them made the danger feel ten times heavier, but it also reminded me why I refuse to sit around like some helpless ornament waiting for Vincenzo Bellini to strike again.

Which is exactly how I ended up here tonight: cornering Luca in his private study, refusing to leave until he dragged out the surveillance drives and bank ledgers so we can track down the mole who leaked our route.