RUTHLESS KING

26 THE RIDE OF MY LIFE

Stella
Dio, those pasticinni were to die for. I’d recognize Nonna Maria’s pastries
anywhere. I couldn’t believe the coglione had gone all the way to Little
Italy to get my breakfast. A growl of frustration vibrates my throat as I fan
mascara across my lashes.
I hate him.
My teeth grind together as I apply a hint of lip gloss.
I don’t hate him.
And that is the big problem. Besides that skillful tongue and the best
orgasm I’ve had in my life in the bathroom at the Heart Ball, I’d grown to
like the broody asshole. The past ten days had started to feel normal,
comfortable. We’d fallen into a routine so quickly it made my head spin.
Sometimes, it felt like I’d known Luca my whole life.
I’m certifiable. It’s literally the only answer.
My bedroom door whips open, and Luca darkens the entryway. My
arms instinctively wrap around my middle as if I could somehow protect
myself from this powerful, relentless man.
“You don’t even knock now?” His brows furrow as if the idea is so wild. “This is my house—sorry,”
he mumbles around an exasperated sigh. “You’re dressed.” His piercing
gaze rakes over me, and I couldn’t feel more naked.
“I didn’t realize remaining in the nude was one of your rules,” I grit out.
“Perhaps you should educate me.”
“It’s not,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Dio, Stella ….” Despite his
unusually casual look, the soft heather gray Henley and worn whitewash
jeans, tension radiates from each twitching muscle. “I’m glad you’re
dressed because we’re going out.”
“We are?” My gaze flickers to the calendar on the wall. “For what? I
don’t have another event on my schedule until next week.”
“Last minute pop up.”
I arch a skeptical brow as I regard his casual attire. I’ve never seen him
leave the penthouse in anything but a suit. “And you’re going like that?”
“Yes, princess. Now, quit it with the third degree and let’s go.” He
wraps his hand around my forearm, and his fingers sear into my flesh.
Those clever digits that had worked me close to oblivion just a few hours
earlier.
“Can you at least tell me where we’re going so I know if my attire is
appropriate?” I’m in cutoff jeans and a tank top for fashion’s sake.
Again, those eyes skim over me, that lethal caress sending a shudder up
my spine. “Mmm, you’re perfect.”
I shake my head and toss him a good eyeroll. The man is infuriating,
and yet I can’t seem to stay mad at him. Mostly because this situation is so
screwed up what could I possibly expect?
His gaze tracks down my legs and settles on my bare feet. “I suggest
sneakers; you’ll be more comfortable.”
“Okay.” I dart toward my closet and pass on the designer sneakers he
insisted I needed and decide on the old Converse I’d worn the day Liam
McKenzie sold me to the Kings. Bile oozes up my throat at the memory. Like all things I refuse to accept, I shove down the images and bury them in
the dark corners of my mind. I slump down on the bed and tie the frayed
laces. When I lift my head, a pair of pitch irises capture mine.
Luca’s lips are only a heartbeat away, his minty breath lingering
between us. The faint line between his dark brows puckers, and my finger
itches to reach up and smooth it away. An epic battle is being fought in that
twisted mind of his. I only wish I knew which side would win.
“You’re going to ruin me, princess.” His whispered confession sends
goosebumps spilling down my spine. He closes the distance between us,
and his lips brush mine. The chaste kiss only lasts for a second, but it feels
like an eternity to my shuddering heart.
His hand clamps around mine, and he tugs me to my feet. A playful
smile brightens those midnight irises as he watches me. “Are you happy?”
I screw my lips into a pout. “Why would I be happy?”
“Because I broke another rule for you.”
“You call that a kiss?” I cry.
The cocky mob boss looks genuinely insulted, and I’m practically
giddy. “Our lips touched, didn’t they?”
“I had better kisses in middle school.” I wrench my hand free from his
and march out of the bedroom.
He follows behind me, the slap of his approaching footfalls speeding up
my own. I’m sprinting, and a laugh bubbles up my chest by the time I reach
the elevator, my breaths coming in uneven pants. I jab my finger at the
button, but the damned thing crawls up the ninety-plus levels.
When Luca reaches me, he traps me against the elevator doors, pinning
me against the cool metal. He runs his nose up my neck, then nips at my
earlobe. “Just for that, you won’t get another kiss until you beg for it.”
I let out a shaky laugh, his warm breath spilling across the sensitive
shell of my ear. “I’ll never beg you for anything, Luca Valentino,” I rasp
out. “We’ll see about that, princess.”
The elevator doors slide open, and I stagger back, but a firm arm snakes
around my waist keeping me upright. He holds me like that until we reach
the parking garage, and the doors open again, revealing the mysterious
Albie.
Does the man live in the garage down here? The elevator pit bull seems
to be eternally fixed to his post.
“Signor Valentino.” He dips his head at the boss then offers me a tight
smile.
“Is everything ready as I requested?” Luca asks.
“Yes, signore.” Albie steps to the side, revealing a tomato red Ducati
with two helmets atop the seat.
“We’re going on that?” I tug on the frayed edges of my jean shorts, fully
aware I’ll be flashing my ass cheeks to anyone behind us.
“You’re not scared, are you?” A twinkle of mischief lights up that dark
gaze.
A whisper of a memory sparks to the surface. The wind in my hair, my
thundering pulse as we weave across crowded city streets, a smile plastered
on my face. I blink, and the images are gone, but the odd sensation
tightening my chest remains.
“Stella?” Luca ducks to meet my eyes, his thumb and forefinger closing
around my chin. “You used to—” His jaw clamps shut, and that cold mask I
hate slips into place. “If you don’t want to ride it, we can just take one of
the cars.”
I step closer to the sleek beast and run my hand over the glossy metal.
“No, I want to.”
A panty-dropping smile splits his lips, and I understand very well why
women accept only one night with the C.E.O. There’s just something about
being in his overwhelming presence. Dio knows I lose all my sanity when I’m around him. I’m still supposed to be pissed about his callous remark,
his stupid rules ….
Luca reaches for the smaller helmet and slips it over my head. I try not
to focus on the countless other women who have likely worn it before me. I
really am pazza so I sniff the helmet once it’s on in search of female
perfume. Surprisingly, it smells brand new.
He must notice because his mouth puckers as he regards me. “You don’t
like new helmet smell?”
A stupid laugh bursts out. “Is that like new car smell?”
“Only ten times better.” He grins, and for an instant he looks younger,
not the hardened mafia boss or the shrewd businessman. He’s just Luca. A
soft smile curves his lips, and I’m gripped with the desire to press my
mouth to his. Only now I can’t because he’d expect me to beg.
And I refuse. I had to keep at least an ounce of dignity intact.
After securing his own helmet, Luca elegantly drapes his long leg over
the seat and grips the handles, so the motorcycle roars to life. Then he offers
me his hand. I wipe my sweaty palm on my jean shorts before accepting,
and he swings me onto the seat behind him.
Our bodies touch in at least a hundred places, and I can feel each and
every one acutely. I inch back to place a little much-needed space between
us, but his hands clamp around my thighs and a sharp hiss escapes my lips.
“Arms around my waist, princess.”
“Do I have to?” I grumble.
“Do you value your life as much as I do?”
My traitorous heart trips on a beat before I smack some sense into it.
“Mmhmm,” I mumble.
“Then hold on like a good girl.”
My arms encircle his waist, and my body instinctively leans into his.
I’m not sure where exactly to put my hands so I hover them just above his
navel. He threads my fingers together, presses my palm against his rock-hard
abs, then clamps his hand over mine. “Tight. Like this.”
“Got it,” I rasp out.
With his free hand, he pulls my thighs in tighter around his. “And I want
these legs glued to mine, understand? Like I’m buried balls deep inside you,
and you’re clinging onto my hips like your fucking orgasm depends on it.”
I gasp at his wicked tongue, and a dark chuckle vibrates Luca’s whole
body, reverberating across my own.
“Get ready for the ride of your life, princess.”