did to me, Phoenix had made it his mission the make sure he always had a terrain of abs for me to run my tongue over. He had always kept in shape, and I couldn’t imagine that’s changed much. My stomach roiled with the quick, unpleasant thought of which lucky woman was running her tongue over his abs nowadays.
I quickly shoved that thought aside because I had no right to that answer. I was the one who walked away from him. And I was the one who stayed away for six years. Whatever or whoever Phoenix was doing was none of my business.
Neither of us moved an inch. We stayed planted where we were as I asked, “What do you mean, with you?”
His chin inched up further. “Just what I said,” he replied coolly, his voice rough and enticing. “You’ll be staying with me at my place.”
“Says who?” I snapped, this time, my chin up in challenge.
“Says me,” he tossed back.
I could feel my lip curl in a snarl. “Over my dead body,” I seethed. Where Ciro had been reasonable and knew we needed to talk, he hadn’t issued any challenges. He hadn’t demanded. Phoenix Fiore was out of his mind if he thought he could demand anything of me after all this time, and after what he did.
“Not a problem,” he bit out, and I couldn’t help the wave of tremors that shook my body as he stalked towards me.
Holy shit.
Chapter 9
Phoenix~
Frankie was more beautiful than any girl had the right to be.
I mean, she’d always been a beautiful girl, but age and maturity had turned her into one stunning fucking woman. Even after enduring a long day of working, driving, and the emotional toll she went through with Massimo, Francesca Mancini was still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a french braid that left random wisps of strands dancing around her face. Her dark brown brows were still arched to perfection above those goddamn amber eyes. They reminded me of a lion’s mane, and they were just as bright. Frankie and her brother were the only two people I’ve ever known who possessed that color of eyes. They were also surrounded by long, dark lashes which made them look like liquid gold whenever she cried. She had soft, rosy cheekbones, a slim nose, and thick, juicy lips.
Her body was something else entirely. Frankie was only five-three, but her small frame packed a hell of a punch. When we were younger, she considered herself plus sized, but I never thought she was. I thought she was curvy and sexy as fuck. I had always adored her, but when the girl had hit puberty, I was stupid with it. Her tits and ass filled out into the perfect hourglass figure and it was all I could do not to attack her every goddamn time I saw her. The first time she let me feel her up, I had nearly cum in my pants. Francesca Mancini was stunning, but that fucking chest of hers belonged in a temple to be worshiped always. And, looking at her now, she still had those sinful curves designed to drive me fucking insane.
I stood in front of her, peering down on her, and I knew there was no way she’d be given her freedom a second time. Her eyes were wide with anticipation as I stood before her. And she might be wary, but this girl would never back down. Ciro, Luca, and I taught her too well. And six years didn’t mean shit. I could still read Frankie like a book. I’ve studied the girl for most of my life. There was no way I didn’t know what she was thinking. And, right now, she was thinking she had a say, but she didn’t.
“We can do this one of two ways, Frankie,” I told her. “You can walk out of here on your own two feet, your dignity and pride in place. Or I can drag you out of here by your motherfucking hair, kicking and screaming. Either way gives me what I want.”
Her eyes narrowed and she looked ready to spit fire. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” she snarled. "And you’re out of your mind if you think I am.”
I smirked down at her. “You can’t win,” I pointed out. Her eyes flicked behind me to Luca. “Luca and Ciro won’t help you.”
Frankie’s eyes were flashing with anger as her gaze shifted back to