Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 91767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
I picture how cold he was, do you want me to walk you out?
No.
I want your dick to fall off, that’s what I want, asshole.
How dare he have a good dick!
I’m infuriated.
Rich, handsome, endowed….. selfish, mother fucking fuckface.
I glance up, why is it taking so long to get home? Where even are we?
“What’s this way?” I ask.
“I had to take a detour for the accident back there,” Mark replies.
“Oh.” I didn’t even notice an accident, that’s how preoccupied I am. “Okay.” I slump back into the seat and continue my pity party for one.
The car finally pulls up, “Here you go, Grace.”
I frown as I peer out the window. “This isn’t my house, Mark.”
“Mr. Ferrara called and asked that you be dropped back at his house.”
“He did what?”
The door opens from the outside and Gabriel looks down at me, “Get out.”
“Go to hell.” I spit.
He grabs my hand and pulls me out of the car, and I snatch my hand out of his. “Do not fucking touch me.”
The doormen at his fancy building all turn to see the commotion.
“Up. Stairs,” he growls in a whisper. “People are watching.”
“I am not going anywhere with you,” I whisper angrily. “You think you can treat me like that.”
“What did you want? The whole office to know that we just fucked on my desk?” he whispers angrily. “Upstairs now.”
I stare at him, my mind a clusterfuck of confusion.
What?
He grabs my hand and leads me into the building, but I’m too mad to focus on a thing, next minute we are in the elevator, the doors slowly close and we turn to face them.
My angry heartbeat is hammering in my chest, and I rip my hand from his, “Do not fucking touch me, Gabriel. I swear to God, I’m about to lose my living shit with you.”
He smirks, clearly amused. “Anger is an aphrodisiac to me, Grace. I wouldn’t push your luck; my control is hanging by a thread as it is.”
I cross my arms and glare at the back of the doors, I have never been so infuriated.
“You’re an asshole,” I spit.
“I have been told that once or twice.”
“Per hour, no doubt,” I fume, “And just what the hell makes you think you can ejaculate inside of me without asking? How fucking selfish can you be? I probably have an STD now.”
“I always wear condoms; trust me, you do not have an STD,” he snaps. “And I know you’re on the pill, I just…. I couldn’t help myself.”
“How the hell do you know I’m on the pill?” I fume.
“I see them in your purse all the time and on occasion, I even look at where you are in your month.”
“What?” I explode.
“Well, some days you hate me more than others, and I want to know why?”
“Because you’re an asshole, Gabriel. That’s why I hate you more on some days. Today being a prime example.” I can hear my angry heartbeat in my ears. “I don’t even know why I’m here with you?”
“But you are here.”
“I was ambushed.”
He does smile this time, and it’s waving like a red flag in front of a bull.
“I’m not one of your bimbos, Gabriel.”
“I am well aware of that.”
“So why bring me here?” I huff.
I want answers, all of them. Start talking, motherfucker.
He stands silently as if contemplating my question and the elevator doors give a soft ding as we arrive at the floor. They open and my heart drops.
Fuck.
The elevator has opened straight into his apartment, or should I call it an…. Italian Coliseum.
He steps out of the elevator, but I stay still as I look around.
I’m too shocked to move.
“Out.” He grabs my hand and pulls me out of the elevator, and I stumble forward.
I swallow the lump in my throat as I look around.
Jeez.
I always knew that Gabriel Ferrara had expensive taste, but this is next level. The walls are a soft hue of gold. The ceilings are sky high and huge dark wooden archways interconnect the rooms. The arches remind me of something you would see in an historic church or something. Grand and oversized.
The furnishings are all beautiful dark wooden antiques, and huge navy and maroon Aubusson rugs are on the dark timber floors. Beautiful artwork in huge gold gilded frames is hanging on the walls.
It’s like a step back in time to a King’s palace or something.
“Welcome to my home.” His eyes twinkle with pride.
Suddenly I remember the mission, that’s right, I hate you.
“It’s nice,” I lie through gritted teeth. It’s not nice, it’s fucking fabulous, but I’m not giving him the satisfaction of gushing over it.
His dark eyes hold mine.
“Don’t look at me like that.” I drop my shoulders to try and look tough and in control.
“Like what?” Before I can answer the question, he cuts me off. “Like I want to taste every inch of your skin?”