CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Coraline

“No one.” I responded defensively, nudging his hand off my chin and attempting to walk past him.

He yanked me back to my original position in front of him and I gasped, annoyed at the way he kept hurling me around like a rag doll.

“What is your problem?” I gritted out. “I said no one. And frankly, it’s none of your business too.”

“It is my business. You work for me,” he replied calmly. Too calmly.

“So? That doesn’t make me your property. You have no right to know everything that goes on in my life.”

“If something hurt you, then I have every right to find out what that thing is and deal with it.”

“You’re mental.” I told him point blank. Then tried to walk past him once more but he grabbed my arm again. His hold on my injured skin caused me to visibly wince in pain, and damn him and his ever watchful gaze because he noticed.

He pulled my sleeves back before I could stop him and stared at the claw-like marks on both my arms. Some were deep enough to start oozing out blood.

“Fuck, Coraline. Who did this to you?”

“Give me a name this instant!” he snapped when I kept mute, his patience running out.

“A dog, okay?” I lied and his eyes narrowed.

“And a dog slapped you too, hm?”

“Um, I hit my face against one of the shelves while shopping.”

He suddenly gripped my chin and brought his face dangerously close to mine. “What was my first rule, Coraline?”

Fuck. Never lie to him.

He saw when I realized my mistake and released my chin. “I’ll let today slide because you’re hurt.” Then he gingerly took my hand in his and pulled me into the kitchen.

Before I realized what was happening, he had wrapped both hands around my waist and lifted me onto the counter.

I gasped and steadied my hands on his broad shoulders. His hands slid from my body and he walked towards a cabinet, grabbing a first aid kit from within.

He walked back towards me and set the box down. Then he parted my thighs and stepped between my legs.

I sucked in a sharp breath. “W-what are you doing?”

“Relax,” he murmured. Reaching for my arms, he properly rolled up the sleeves. His movements were careful, his touch featherlight against my skin.

Goosebumps scattered across everywhere the hot tips of his fingers grazed. His body was large and warm between my legs as they struggled to contain him without coming in contact with his sides. But it was impossible.

He kept shifting and turning, and the insides of my jean-clad thighs kept rubbing up against him.

I sat holding my breath while he didn’t even seem fazed by all the touching our bodies were doing.

He reached for the first aid kit and donned disposable gloves before taking out a sterile gauze, antibiotic ointment and clean bandages.

Then he got to work cleaning my wounds. He dabbed at the bleeding scrapes with the gauze, applied the ointment to the more serious ones, and covered them all with bandages.

He ripped off the gloves when he was done and I thought he was finally going to move away. But he brought a hand up to cradle the left side of my face where I had been slapped.

Touching the bruised skin stung, but his hot palm against my face sent currents of heat zinging through my body all the way down to my toes.

“Give me a name Coraline,” he said in a whisper, and it almost sounded like he was begging.

I summoned the courage and met his eyes. He looked so earnest, staring at me with such an open, unguarded expression that I felt myself clenching my thighs at the intensity of that look.

I conveniently forgot he was still between my legs and inadvertently locked his body to me. His hand started moving in a soft caress and his gaze turned molten.

My breaths suddenly started coming out faster, ragged and unsteady.

“Coraline…” he rasped in a thick voice, his accent pronounced. His hypnotic gaze fell to my mouth and as he stared, they parted in invitation.

His other hand slid down to grip my waist, large palm hot and heavy against my skin. He slowly started leaning down, and the intention behind the movement finally snapped my brain back to reality.

What the fuck were we doing?

“Wait, stop Alessio. Stop.” I raised a hand to push him back. He instantly released me and his eyes seemed to clear as he stepped back, my legs falling from around his hips.

“What was that?” I asked him with wide eyes. “Are you coming on to me? Is this what you do with all your female employees?”

A stormy frown came over his features and he was suddenly back to his normal, overbearing state of self. “It was a mistake. I lost my head for a moment and you were the only available female body around. You’re nothing special.”

I snorted. “You’re such a cliché.”

His frown got even fiercer. “What does that mean?”

“Why do you have to keep reminding me I’m not special? To make yourself feel better? Because that’s just pathetic.”

He looked taken aback, so I took the opportunity and kept running my mouth,

“You say I’m not your type but I guess your type just has to have a freaking vagina and you’re down. Have you ever even taken a woman serious before? Always seen with a different one every single week. Are you scared of commitment? Is that it? Or you just think you’re too good enough to settle down with just anyone—”

His hand was suddenly around my throat, pushing my head back as he got in my face. “Shut your mouth. Shut your fucking mouth.”

My eyes widened in alarm. I’d never seen him look this angry. I must have hit a sore nerve.

Just when I thought he was going to tighten his grip and cut off my circulation, he released me and stepped back, breathing heavily.

“Get out,” he said lowly.

I scrambled to do as he said, not waiting for him to repeat himself. Hopping off the counter and grabbing my bag from the living room, I dashed for the door.

He had looked too volatile in there. Like he was ready to blow up at any moment, and I valued my life enough to not want to be present when that happened.