their time to penetrate my brain.
Clint’s here.
At the house?
“I’ve seen his number on your phone. Always calling, texting. Who is he?”
He sounds calm, but his words and the look in his eyes are anything but. “He’s a friend from back home.”
“A friend isn’t that persistent, little dancer. Do better with your lies.”
Narrowing my gaze, I square my shoulders. “He’s a friend from back home,” I state once more.
Moving so fast, I gasp in shock when he pushes his body against the side of mine, his hands grasping his favorite spot on my jaw line.
“Has this friend been inside your body?”
My breathing is rapid, his hold making my pussy throb with need. I like when his aggression bleeds through into action.
“Once,” I pant, biting down on his thumb when he pushes it into my mouth. He doesn’t even flinch.
“You don’t understand how addicting you are, do you?” he growls, removing himself from next to me.
The cold rush of his departure leaves me wanting.
“I’ve known him nearly my entire life, Luca. He declared his love for me and was hurt when I didn’t feel the same way. It was a pity fuck, and barely that. It was over in seconds and not memorable.”
“He remembers,” he barks at me as the car comes to a stop.
Following him out of the car, my stomach churns to see Clint, here, in this space.
He jumps up from the steps of the house, attempting to jog to me, but a massive giant of a man grabs him by the shirt, halting his movements.
“Let me go.” He struggles, but it’s pathetic. “Alyssa?”
Luca’s demeanor must read danger because he stops wriggling and pales slightly at Luca’s approach. “How did you get this address?”
“Your father got an invitation to come here. Something about a wedding. Alyssa, what the hell is going on?” He talks over Luca’s shoulder, directing his questions to me.
“Can you let him go?” I snap, smacking the hands away holding him in place. Once released, he grabs my hand, pulling me a few feet away. Luca’s eyes are deadly, his jaw ticking with annoyance.
“What are you doing here?” I fume, tugging from his grasp.
His eyes widen. “What are you doing here?” His floppy blond hair covers his eyes before he swipes it away.
“Is my father coming?”
“No. He sent me here to see what the hell is going on.” I know my father doesn’t care about me, but him sending Clint here instead of coming himself stings a little.
“Luca and I are getting married.” I shrug.
“That’s crazy talk. Go get your stuff. I’m taking you home.” A gulp bobs his throat when the barrel of Luca’s gun pushes against his temple.
“This is her home, little boy. Now, Alyssa, do you want him here for the wedding?”
The pocket of guilt I hadn’t felt in a while opens up. “No,” I whisper.
“Alyssa?” My name is a plea on his lips, but him being here only reminds me of why I’m doing this. I can’t go back to that mundane existence.
“I love you,” he croaks, wincing when the gun digs in further.
“Love isn’t allowing the other person to feel guilty for not loving you back, Clint. That night in the field wasn’t right. You knew that and still took what you wanted selfishly.”
Reaching up, I tug Luca’s reluctant arm down, rubbing my hand up his back to try to calm him down. “You’re not wanted here. I’m happy and marrying Luca.”
Clint’s face is ashen, his chest vibrating. “It’s time to leave,” Luca warns him.
The security giant steps up to take Clint in hand, but he jerks out of reach, sneering, “I’m going. You’re not who I thought you were.”
Sad thing is, he’s no doubt known that for a while, he was just too consumed with his own fairy tale and greed, he willingly overlooked it.
“Where are you going?” Luca asks me once inside the house. I’m already up three of the stairs, heading to our bedroom.
“I want to take a nap.”
I wake up to a dark room. The night has taken over the day. I try to move, but I’m restrained.
Fear bubbles up my throat. The blanket is pulled away from my body, a lamp switching on near a table at the foot of the bed.
Luca’s dominant structure looms near the mattress, a sexy smirk on his lips. I’m naked and spread-eagle, leather cuffs wrapped around each of my ankles and wrists, the restraints disappearing beneath the bed.
How asleep was I? I look to the clock. It’s reads three a.m. I