Addicted to Santino - Amarie Avant Page 0,58

strong arm grabs me around the waist.

My legs and arms fly into action, but I’m tackled onto the steel floor of the van. The most attractive face I’ve seen in my life looks down at me.

“Hello, future wife,” Santino says in Italian. My body starts to roll with the quick movement of the van, but he presses himself against me.

“Stop, please!”

His hand rests along my throat. “I’ve missed you.”

“You’re crazy! Crazy!”

“We’re both crazy, sweetheart.” He winks.

“You,” I squeak, looking to the side at the fat guy in the front. “Driver, I’ll pay you $10,000 to help me get away from this—”

“Your fucking future husband!”

“$20,000, please!” My arms and legs are pinned down, utterly useless beneath his weight.

The driver snorts. “Ma’am, I’d help you if I could.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tony,” Santino snarls to him.

“Why are you saying my name?!”

I continue to bargain with the driver. “$30,000!”

Santino drops cruel bites and kisses along my neck. With his fingers coiling around my necklace, he snarls, “You have all the money in the world.”

The driver muses. “Lady, you make it an easy $50k, I’ll—”

I start to reply, “O—”

Santino’s brutal mouth crushes down onto mine with such force, my lips swell. His teeth assault my lips, working his tongue inside for a kiss.

I leverage an arm and swing out to his face. He presses his face into my neck. The edges of his teeth sink into my pulse point. He’s moving his other arm too speedily for me to keep up the momentum.

Santino orders, “Tony, my truck now, or you’re dead.”

“One-hun-hundred thousand, pleaseeee,” I blubber. Tears prick my eyes. Dead? Those are some serious acting chops, or he’s serious.

“A 100 grand, please!” I squeal. The guy in the front stops all negotiations.

Seconds later, the van stops.

Santino drags a hand through my curly hair. “Gina, when we get out, you betray me by screaming, I’ll kill . . . Tony.”

I choke on air. “Fuck him. He’s with you! Asshole, asshole, ass-holeee!”

With a foreboding expression darkening his face, Santino growls. “I can live with that name, Gina. The question is, can you live with the punishment?”

“This can’t be real.”

“Oh, it is, Bella.” He takes my hand and opens the sliding door.

“Hel—”

The door snaps shut. Santino’s fingers claw into the hair at the nape of my neck, his mouth plasters against mine. The sick, sneaky bastard pulls me out with our bodies bonded together. I’m pushing, and he’s swooping his arms around me into a bear hug.

I don’t want these kisses! Santino’s lips have touched other women! I hate him! Will hate him the rest of my life. Santino opens the door to his truck. He presses a panel for the center console and then shoves me in.

“Move, Gina.”

“Hel—”

He climbs inside, half on top of me, tossing my purse over and closing the door behind him. I slide to the opposite side and yank on the door.

“Child lock, sweetheart.”

That nickname sounds like bitch as he snarls it.

“You’ve made a grave mistake. The worst mistake in your entire life, Santino!”

“Fine.” He lifts his shoulders, putting his key into the ignition.

I lift my legs, stilettos slamming on the dashboard. “I hate you!”

Santino straddles me. “I love—”

“Now, I see you’re using those stripper moves? I knew there was a reason I took out cash tonight.”

“You’ll give me another $750? That’s what my love was worth to you?”

“$750?” I think back to the amount on the club website. “Nope. I’ll double it. I saw those videos. You underestimated your worth, Dirty Santa.”

“Here, I assumed your love was priceless.”

“Let’s not go there, Satan.”

Head pounding, I grouse awake, running my palm over my temple. I’m balled up against the passenger window. Last night, all I recall is telling myself not to cry. Oh, no, before that, Gina! I was a hot mess, and my mouth got the better of me.

Consigned to my tiny corner of the truck, I glance outside. City life has dissolved. Snow blankets the ground, and peaceful terrain from upstate surrounds the area.

“I have to pee.”

Santino runs his index finger over his bottom lip. I look away, repeating myself in a heated growl.

“Too much to drink, sweetie?”

“Call me any variation of ‘sweet,’ this is my declaration that I’ll follow through with last night’s threat.”

His voice is deliciously tempting. “Refresh my memory.”

“My statement about killing you. Wasn’t that damn drunk, but I’m very determined.”

“You’ve taken everything from me. I see you’ve eaten very well since I last saw you, sweet cakes.” He clutches my inner thigh.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No.”

“Taken everything