The Heiress' Revenge-Chapter 15

A R I A N A

The car drove into the gates of the Russo mansion after what felt like forever. My whole body was tense from sitting so stiffly next to Dante and I wanted nothing but to get away from him.

As soon as the car stopped, I reached for the door handle I wanted to get out fast away from the tension between us, I wanted to run to my room and lock the door.

But Dante was quicker, he grabbed on my wrist cutting me off guard. I gasped his grip wasn’t painful, but it was firm.

I couldn’t pull away or move.

"Let go" I order but he ignored.

The driver opened Dante’s door he stepped out, pulling me with him and I stumbled a little in my heels, but Dante’s arm went around my waist to steady me.

Then he was walking us toward the house, his arm like an iron band around me.

The front door opened before we reached it. The night staff bowed their heads as we entered.

Dante didn’t stop in the foyer he kept walking, pulling me along.

What did he want now?

"Let go!" I whispered angrily.

He ignored me.

We reached the grand staircase still, he didn’t let go, he lead us up the stairs, my heels clicking on the marble steps.

"What the hell is your problem!" I roared

He finally stopped, spunning me around and pushed me back against the wall, his big hands pinned my shoulders, his body pressed close, trapping me.

"You broke the rules tonight," he growled.

I glared up at him. "What rules?"

"The rule about us being a happy couple in public," he said. His breath was warm on my face. "You embarrassed me. You’re ruining my reputation"

I laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. "Oh, I’m sorry. Was the Don Dante Russo embarrassed by his little wife?"

His fingers tightened on my shoulders. "Watch your tongue."

"Or what?" I challenged. "You’ll punish me?"

Something dark flashed in Dante’s eyes befor his lips curled into a cruel smile. "Maybe I should."

Before I could react, one of his hands left my shoulder It trailed down my body, his fingers brushed over the top of my breast, making me gasp.

"You want to play games with other men?" he whispered, his fingers dipping lower, teasing. "When your body reacts to me like this?" his hands landing over the curve of my hip, before his fingers slipped under the fabric of my dress.

I gasped as his warm hand touched my bare thigh.

"You’re so warm," he murmured, his fingers moving higher. "So soft."

My breath came faster as my heart pounded so loud I was sure he could hear it.

His fingers reached higher, touching me where I was most sensitive I bit my lip to stop a moan from escaping.

Dante smirked. "So wet already," he said, his voice rough. "So desperate for me."

I shook my head, but my body betrayed me, pressing into his touch.

"You hate me," he continued, his fingers moving in slow circles, "but your body wants me. Isn’t that funny?"

It wasn’t funny.

It was humiliating.

I tried to push him away, but my arms felt weak.

Dante leaned closer, his lips brushing my ear. "You can lie to yourself," he whispered. "But your body never lies."

"You’re disgusting," I breathed, but my voice shook.

Dante chuckled darkly his other hand found my nipple, pinching hard enough to make me whimper. "Liar."

"So desperate," he mocked, his fingers brushing over my soaked panties. "And for me? After all your big talk?"

God this man would be the end of me.

I couldn’t say anything, I was aching, ashamed of how my body reacted to his touch.

"Pathetic," he whispered, but his voice was rough.

Then suddenly, he pulled his hand away stepping back, leaving me leaning against the wall, breathless and aching.

"Next time," he straightened his suit, "Watch your tongue Carino"

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving me there confused, angry, and worst of all, wanting him.

Ugh!

I slammed my bedroom door shut so hard as my whole body trembled in rage, anger at Dante and myself.

I tore off my expensive dress, letting it fall to the floor in a heap thr fabric that had made men stare tonight now felt dirty against my skin.

I kicked it away like it burned me.

I stood in front of the mirror glaring at my reflection, my cheeks were flushed, my lips swollen from biting them.

"How?" I whispered to myself in frustration. "How can you want him?"

Dante was old.

At least forty.

More than ten years older than me, he was cruel, controlling a monster who treated me like property.

Yet when he touched me.

I squeezed my eyes shut, but it didn’t stop the memory his rough fingers, the way he knew exactly where to touch.

The dark look in his eyes I was sure I saw desire but only for a split second.

A hot wave of shame crashed over me as I covered my face with my hands, digging my nails into my scalp.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," I muttered.

The worst part? Even now, alone in my room, my body still throbbed where he’d touched me.

I needed to wash him off me.

I walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower, steam quickly filled the room, fogging the mirrors.

After a long and deserving shower I finally felt clean and the heat at my core has subsided.

I wrapped myself in the fluffiest towel I could find, but it didn’t comfort me.

Nothing could.

Because the truth was simple and awful:

My body wanted Dante Russo.

And I hated myself for it.

I got dressed into something comfortable before heading to bed.

I crawled on the bed I pulling the covers over my head.

Fuck you Dante Russo.

I fucking hate you.

Liar!