Chapter 33
Veronica planted her feet firmly on the plush carpet, and forced herself to look directly at the screen. Her gaze was unflinching, locked on Luca as he leaned back into the moment with Miss Porsche astride him. Every touch, every push and pull of the woman’s body against his, every breathless gasp that filled the room, seemed designed to pull her apart, to strip her of composure—but she refused to give him that satisfaction.
He was nothing to her, just a man with too much control and an ego the size of Manhattan. His tactics were predictable, childish even, but that didn’t stop her body from responding in ways she mentally scolded herself for. She remained stubborn, rooted to the spot, eyes tracing every line of his body, the way his hands moved, the way Miss Porsche reacted to his rhythm with surprising obedience and satisfaction.
Then her eyes caught the subtle, cruelly intimate detail she hadn’t anticipated. The way his fingers threaded into the curve of Miss Porsche’s neck, his grip firm and possessive. The grunt that escaped him as he came, the way her back arched and she gasped against him—it should have been ugly, mechanical, even violent, but her moans were lust-laced, melodic, and impossibly addictive to the ear. Veronica shook her head in disbelief.
The way he moved, the way he dominated the room, the way the woman leaned into him. Her body betrayed her, pulse hammering against her wrists where she tried to steady them, a warmth pooling low in her belly that made her squirm with confusion. Anger and fascination warred inside her with every heartbeat.
Minutes passed, stretching unbearably. The room grew quiet, save for the faint settling of the sheets and the heavy, satisfied breathing that Luca exhaled once the act was over. Miss Porsche rose gracefully, putting her coat back on, walking toward the door and gave a call me sign. Luca pulled out his phone, thumbs moving.
Then the lock clicked. The viewing room’s door swung open slowly. She straightened her coat, and forced her legs to move.
She walked to the garage and got in the car. The driver got in, started the engine, but didn’t move.
“Everything okay?” Vee asked.
The driver kept his eyes forward. “Luca is riding with us p>
“Oh hell no!” Vee practically launched herself out of the car. Heaving breaths fogged in the cold air as she slammed the door behind her, the coat brushing against her bare thighs. “Miss Scalese the driver shouted after her.
“He can ride with you. I’m not spending a minute with him,” she shot back over her shoulder. She headed out of the garage, out of the club.
Her heels clicked on the pavement, reminding her with every step that she was out of place, out of control, dangerously exposed in more ways than one. Her coat barely covered her skin, and she could feel the fabric of the lingerie digging into her, a constant, intimate reminder of how impossible Luca made her feel.
She didn’t know where she was going. Her mind was spinning, reckless. Her chest felt tight, her breath uneven, and she hated herself for even considering that maybe, just maybe, a tiny part of her had wished she were the one in his arms.
Tears burned her eyes before she realized they were coming. Stupid, absurd, uncontrollable tears. She wiped them away hastily, cursing herself under her breath. What the hell was wrong with her? Was it the effect of that ridiculous, infuriating display he’d put on? Or was it that she hated herself for wanting him to do that to her?
The car slowed right beside her. Luca rolled down the back window, his blue eyes glinting. “Get in,” he said.
“Fuck off! You son of a bitch!” she spat as she kept walking, head high. Her coat swished around her thighs.
Luca tsked. He signaled for the driver to stop and climbed out. His lips quirked into that maddening smirk. At least now he knew his performance got the desired effect.
He hadn’t expected it to go this smoothly. She had wanted him. She wanted him. And the thought made his pulse thrum in his veins.
He was there, yanking her backward by her wrist. Her back slammed against the cool metal of the car. Reflexively, her free hand shot up, aiming for his face, a sharp slap meant to sting. He caught it effortlessly, tilting his head to the side and she growled.
Her knee shot upward instinctively, connecting with his stomach with a satisfying, painful whoosh. He staggered, a sharp inhale escaping him, but it wasn’t enough to break her out of his grip. She had underestimated his strength—or maybe he had underestimated the fury tucked inside her small frame.
Luca grunted, spinning her with effortless force until her chest pressed against the hood of the car. Her arms were trapped behind her now, immobilized by his hands.
Vee bit her lip, and hissed, “I hate you p>
Luca’s hands tightened, just enough to make her shiver.
“When I give you instructions, I expect you to follow them to the letter,” he snarled.
“Fuck you!” Vee shot back, hissing the words, trying to tilt her chin up, even as her chest heaved and her blood felt impossibly hot under her skin.
His fingers wrapped around her neck with the same precise, terrifying control she had just seen him exert on Miss Porsche. The grip should have hurt—it looked like it would—but it didn’t, at least not in the way she expected. Luca knew exactly how far he could push, where the line was, how to make her tremble.
Her pulse spiked, erratic, wild, a thousand conflicting emotions crashing together in one impossible storm.
Right there on the slick street, bent over the hood of his car, he had her. He had her utterly and completely. She prayed, quietly, fervently, that he didn’t know it. That he didn’t see the part of her that had already surrendered.
(Still having electricity issues. (Inside The True Heiress was supposed to get a mass release today but I had to edit this Chapter in the dark. As soon as i get some light, I’m a get to typing p>
This Chapter is brought to you by: Jennifer Willard