CHAPTER FOUR— KISSES AND BUTTERFLIES

You ever wonder why sin was irresistible and sweet? Why bad habits were the hardest to quit? Well, I think I just found the answers to those questions in the form of the enigmatic man who sat in one corner of my room.

Luca Russo.

The ruthless billionaire.

Here in my bedroom.

Staring— no, rather, glaring— at me with those blue eyes.

I had no idea why I hadn't been scared of him, but seeing him now, at this hour, in my half lit room, I couldn't fight the goosebumps that spread on my body. He was doing things to my body, and I could feel it in between my legs. Oblivious to him obviously.

“Wh… what… what are you doing here?” I stuttered when I finally found my voice. He stood up dangerously slow, his steps to me dangerously slower. The glare seemed to magnify this time and if looks could kill, I would have been dead the moment I walked into the room. “How did you even get in here.” When I got no reply, I snapped my head over my shoulder to scream for the one person who wouldn't hesitate to barge in here and save me. “Mo—”

Warm hands immediately covered my mouth, sending a chill down my spine. Not from fear, but from something else. Something—

“Yeah, do that, and let's see how that plays out, shall we?” His voice were like knives. Multiple knives tearing its way into my heart. Pouring the fear out.

I mumbled incoherent words in his palm, and raising a brow, he slowly pulled his palm away.

“You shall speak.”

I scowled at him. “I shall speak?” I scoffed at the audacity. Seriously, where did men the audacity to utter and do some things? “What are you? The King of England? God?”

He arched a brow, his lips pulling in a dark smile — that was all the man was made of. Darkness. “I am the closest person to a God you'll find, honey. Next question.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “That was a rhetorical question.”

I huffed, making my way to my bed. Surprisingly, he didn't attack me and strangle me. With his reputation, I wouldn't have expected less. Flopping down on the bed, I raised a brow at him. “I asked a question. You didn't answer.”

He sighed heavily, as if I was wearing him out. Good. If he got tired of me before the wedding, then I'd be out of his charade of an arrangement. “You asked so many questions. Which of them?”

“The one about how you got into my room? Oh, wait, no. The one about what you're doing here?”

My eyes widened as I wondered if Mom called to tell him I rejected the ring. Would she do that? Better yet, why would he come here just because of it? To punish me? Smother me to death? I quickly shook my head at the last thought. I doubted he hated me enough, or thought of me that much to do that? I was sure I was nothing but a measly ant where he was concerned, which still surprised me why he chose to marry me and what if this was—

“A dollar for your thoughts?” He asked, bringing me from my train of thoughts. My focus moved back to him to find him stare at me with an indecipherable look.

God, this man was beautiful. When he wasn't acting all macho and monstrous.

“Uhh… no?” He raised a brow in disbelief, something he seemed to do a lot. “Fine. I was wondering why you agreed to marry me and what in the ever loving hell brought you here? Don't you have numbers to make? People to torture? Or whatever the fuck else ruthless billionaires do?”

He let out a humorless chuckle, that reverberated between my legs before giving me a stern look. “First of all, we are going to get rid of that sailor mouth of yours. Secondly…” he moved to his suit pocket and brought out a box. My heart skipped a beat. Mom did call him. Traitor. “... I came over here because someone told me that my future wife to be threw a tantrum and refused to put on the ring I got her. I thought I should come by myself and hear her side of the story. After all, in a few weeks we are going to be equal. Isn't that what the whole point of feminism is?”

I glared at him. “I didn't throw a tantrum. I'm eighteen not five. Also, what the hell makes you think I'm a feminist?”

He shrugged, not bothering to answer. Instead he started to stalk closer to me and with every step he took, my breath seemed to seize. “Now tell me, wifey. Why the hell would you refuse the ring? Not to your taste? All you had to do was make a simple phone call.”

“ I didn't…” I didn't what? I'd forgotten what I wanted to say. “I'm not your wife. Yet.” I stupidly said instead.

“Yet,” he agreed. “In a few weeks, you'll be mine. Your mind, body and soul. And until then, maybe I should give you a little preview of things to come. Proof that you are mine even if you aren't yet.”

“What—”

He grabbed my chin, pulling me painfully close to him. Too close that I was a breath away from touching his lips with mine. I could feel his breath, could feel him restrain from losing control. His eyes dilated, and instead of those blue eyes, now they looked darker. Sinful. Filled with promises of what was to come.

“Shh,” he hushed, before his lips made contact with mine.

My eyes widened at the surprise. This wasn't my fist kiss. Far from that. Matt and I had stolen kisses from each other every now and then, but it wasn't like this. Compared to this, ours was innocent, curious. Luca's was dominating, powerful— like waves crashing and I was drowning with each passing second.

His tongue fought dominance and soon I opened up wider, letting him explore my mouth. I could feel myself getting wet, and if I wasn't lost in the moment, I would have been mortified with his wet I was getting with each passing second.

When he groaned with ecstacy, I almost said “fuck it all” and let him have me however he wanted, but even though I was lost in passion, my voice of reasoning still echoed in my head.

Pulling away from the kiss forcefully, we both fought to catch our breaths and studying each other. Luca looked different in this moment. He looked boyish, curious, filled with lust. I wondered what I looked like. Perfectly kissed, I was sure.

“My future husband should be the one to put the ring on. Our marriage might be an arrangement — a requirement, but that doesn't mean you can't do the right thing. It's not everyday a girl gets whisked away against her will to marry someone she hardly knows except for his infamous reputation, don't you think?”

He watched me, for one second… two… four… and then a grin slowly made its way to his face. He looked more handsome and younger when he smiled and that caught me off guard.

“You're right.” He got on one knee, pulled the box open and took out the ring. Giving him my left hand, I watched in astonishment as he out the ring on my finger.

“Enjoy this moment while it lasts, princess, because this would be the last time I kneel for you. Never forget that.”