ArabellaI didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until my chest started to ache.My fingers were tight around the rim of my wine glass, my feet frozen beneath me like they didn’t trust the ground. But nothing had exploded. No one had pulled a gun. Marco had smiled, kissed my cheek like everything was fine.Francesco was dragged out, yelling. But still, everything was fine. My head was still on my neck and, well, Six was in one piece.I searched for him in the crowd. I bit the inner corner of my mouth to stop myself from smiling. Danger wasn’t far away yet.I let out a shaky exhale. Thank God.The party had resumed like it hadn’t come seconds away from turning into a bloodbath. The music picked up. People started talking again—quietly at first. They were still easing into it.I stood near one of the tall windows, clutching my glass with both hands.“Bell.”I turned sharply. Only one person used that name...My father.It was an old nickname. It had been ages since he called me that
SixFrancesco’s voice still echoed through the dining room. The bastard had finally spoken up, and in a room like this.The nerve of him! Maybe I wasn’t threatening enough; maybe I was beginning to lose my touch. Otherwise, he would’ve taken my warnings seriously.No one spoke a word. No one moved. You could hear a pin drop. The air was thick with the kind of silence that comes right before something shatters.My hand rested on the grip of my gun under the table, loose but ready. My eyes were on Marco.Waiting for a sign. The odds were tipped against us, but I would die before I sat quietly and watched him pounce on Arabella. The whole building was packed with Marco’s men. I was outnumbered.Since the incident at the mall, he had become paranoid. He had the building cleared from top to bottom; he even hired extra gun hands. All I had on me was a handgun, but I’d take out Marco in an instant if need be.I glanced at Arabella. She was so far away. I wanted to be close to her in this mom
ArabellaThe table stretched to the far end of the room. It was covered in a white tablecloth, candles were lit, and flowers decorated the table. It was a “family dinner,” as Marco had described it.Everyone was seated—some faces I could recognize at a glance, others I couldn’t.My father was there, his eyes unable to meet mine. I looked away. My eyes searched for that one person.Six was already at the table.He didn’t look at me.Good. I didn’t trust what I’d do if he did.Marco and I took our seats.“Arabella,” Marco’s grandmother began. She was sitting across from me, on the other side of Marco, who was at the head of the table. “You look beautiful tonight,” she said simply.I nodded with a smile. “Thank you, Nonna, you look great as always.”She nodded curtly.Marco was beaming with pride beside me. “She is always a vision, isn’t she?” He leaned closer and kissed the top of my head.I didn’t look at him, but I felt him—the same way you feel heat at your back, or lightning before
ArabellaI merely smiled at him.His fingers brushed against my crotch, and his lips curled into a smirk. “It’s a fountain here, baby…”I blushed hard and lowered my eyes. “I want to moan your real name when you pleasure me…” Even I didn’t believe I had said it out loud.Of course, it was more than that. If I was in love with the man, I needed to know his name at least.Love? What a strange word, but it was true. I was in love with my bodyguard. I was in love with Leonardo Moretti.He grinned; that beautiful smile that made me weak in the knees. “I promise not to fall short of your expectations, Arabella. I would also like to hear you moan my name…” he whispered, and then he took my panties off, baring me to him.He shut his eyes and inhaled, his lips curling into a pleased smile. He was smiling like my panties were a scent he was addicted to.Just like he said, they were soaking wet—just like they always were whenever I was around him. He brought them to my nose.“This… you drive me
ArabellaMy lips curled into a mischievous grin. “No,” I whispered.His eyes widened in surprise, he hadn’t expected that response.I bit down on my lower lip. “Frankly, I don’t think I owe you anything.”He grabbed my upper arm, pulling me close. “You don’t believe that, Arabella,” he murmured near my ear. Goosebumps spread over my skin as I shuddered. “I think we’re past pretending we don’t need each other. Don’t you think so?”Need… I strained. “Interesting choice of word.”He gripped my jaw, our lips only inches apart. “Yes, Bella. Need,” he said. “That’s the only reason you’re in a limousine, on your way to your own pre-wedding party, and yet your body yearns for another man—me.” He emphasized the last word.“You don’t know that,” I blurted. At this point, I didn’t know if I was outright refusing him or desperately goading him, hoping he’d take the bait.His eyes flickered to my breasts, now practically spilling out of the top of my dress. “Really?”My cheeks flushed with embarra
ArabellaI stared at my reflection in the mirror. The ladies who had helped dress me up were already packing up and leaving.I couldn’t deny that I looked beautiful—more beautiful than I had ever looked.I mean, it was expected, seeing as I was wearing a very beautiful dress that Marco had spent a fortune on. It was a pink satin dress that clung to me, but not in a way that made it hard for me to breathe.It had tiny sleeves and was backless, pooling around my feet. I was wearing it with a matching pair of silver heels and clutch.Marco’s voice echoed in my mind: I want you to look elegant. I want them to see what’s mine.I adjusted the straps and stepped out of my room, my heels quiet on the marble. Each step toward the stairs made my heart beat louder.This was supposed to be a dinner. A pre-wedding celebration. A soft show of power. I was supposed to be radiant. Grateful. His.But I felt hollow.I saw him the moment I reached the top of the stairs.Six.He stood near the front door