Heartless Prince by Brook Wilder

Chapter 21

Leda

 

The door suddenly opened, and I turned to find the object of my thoughts coming through the doorway, a tray in his hand.

 

He was wearing a dress shirt and slacks, the collar open at the neck and his shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing that tattoo I had seen on him earlier. Did he have other tattoos?

 

It was only a matter of time before I would find out.

 

“Good evening,” he stated, setting the tray on the small table near the balcony. “I trust your day went well?”

 

I crossed my arms over my chest, rewarded with the way that his eyes drifted to my raised breasts that were barely contained in the sheer material.

 

I did my best to put on my annoying spoiled brat voice. “I am bored.” I pouted.

 

He arched a brow, and my insides quivered. How could a man possibly look so unbelievably sexy by just arching his brow?

 

“Bored? Princess, you are a prisoner. It’s not my job to fucking entertain you.”

 

“Still,” I replied. “There should at least be something to do in this room. I mean, do you really expect me to just sit around and stare at my nails all day? I want entertainment, Valentino.”

 

His gaze narrowed, and I gave myself a mental high five. This was going to be easier than I thought. He wasn’t someone who got a lot of challenges, apparently, and this was a challenge that he definitely didn’t see coming. “I expect you to stay in this fucking room and not cause trouble.”

 

“Oh?” I asked innocently as I dropped my arms and let my robe fall open. “What kind of trouble could I possibly cause?”

 

His eyes drifted over my exposed skin. Just the thought of his eyes raking over my skin sent my nipples puckering to a painful point, but I kept my chin high. This was all about getting him off his game, not about me being seduced by him.

 

Valentino wasn’t a seducer by any means. He was a conqueror.

 

It was time I gave him a little push. “You know that D’Agostinos love to stir up trouble.” At the word trouble, I teased the robe apart—just enough to give him a better look, but not enough for the full thing.

 

“Is that so?” He crossed his arms over his chest. He looked, well, maybe amused, which meant I wasn’t there just yet. I needed to step up my game, piss him off where he least expected it.

 

I knew exactly how to do it.

 

I nodded and tipped the end of the tray with my hand suddenly, the dishes sliding to the floor. Mentally I mourned what looked like a delicious pasta dish splatter against the carpet. Oh well, small prices to pay. The sauce spilled out of the bowl and splashed onto Valentino’s slacks. He looked down at the ruined fine material of his pants.

 

This was certainly working out better than I could have even imagined!

 

“Why did you do that?” Valentino growled, meeting my gaze. Oh my. He was visibly pissed, his jaw clenched tightly, so tightly I thought I could hear his teeth cracking.

 

“Because,” I said flippantly, even tossing my hair back to further irate him. If I was going to do this and likely starve tonight, I was going to go all out. “I don’t want to eat if you can’t give me what I want.”

 

“And what exactly do you want?” he echoed, his eyes narrowing.

 

I let out a little huff, as if he were irritating me. “Quit repeating my words. I know you can hear just fine. I have certain requirements that I need if you want me to stay in this room any longer. I mean, just look at these sheets. They’re nowhere up to par with what I want.”

 

Well, that was a lie. Those sheets were actually great, but I wasn’t about to admit that to him.

 

His expression grew harder still, and I sucked in a breath, keeping the half smile on my face. Was he close to his breaking point?

 

If he wasn’t, then the man was a saint. I had all but insulted his room, his accommodations, and his hearing.

 

“Pick up those dishes.”

 

I eyed him, seeing how tight his body had grown. It was a shame that he was so gorgeous, honestly. “Or what?”

 

Valentino grew very still, and I felt like the air had been sucked out of the room as his eyes glittered. “Excuse me?”

 

“What are you going to do about it if I don’t pick up those dishes?” I challenged.

 

My insides twisted in turmoil. Truth be told, he could do a number of things. He might pick up the dishes himself and bash me in the head with it if he really wanted to. He might push my face into the pasta on the carpet like an unruly dog. Different scenarios flashed through my mind. Each one ending with the same scene: me, dead, dead, dead.

 

Fuck, had I gone too far?

 

But it was too late, I couldn’t back out now. To do so would be to admit that I was afraid of him. I had to keep going.

 

“Well? I’m waiting.” I said sweetly, doing my best to keep the tremor out of my voice. “And besides, are you really a Don to begin with? I’ve never heard of you.”

 

The moment the corner of his mouth lifted, I knew I had gone too far. There was no inch of softness in him, and the last of my bravado fled.

 

This wasn’t his breaking point, Leda. This was yours.

 

He stepped over the food and I backed up against the bed, torn between telling him that I was sorry and wanting to find out what he was going to do next. 

 

He looked at me like a wolf looked at a wounded sheep. I was suddenly very aware of the fact that before me stood a dangerous man, a man who didn’t like being told what to do and who didn’t care for the woman I was portraying at all.

 

Oh no.

 

His body pushed into mine, and a whimper escaped through my lips when I felt the evidence of what my little taunting had done to him. He was hard as a rock, his erection pressed against my belly, and I fought the urge to lick my lips.

 

“Do you know?” He leaned closer until his face was the only thing I could see. His arms flanked me on both sides. I was trapped. “What I do to girls that don’t listen?”

 

Heaven help me. “N-No?”

 

His grin became feral, and I felt every nerve ending stand at attention. My own body was flushed with heat, the wetness starting to leak through the thin material that was between my legs. The monster inside of me was dancing in happiness.

 

He flipped my plan onto its head with a single simple gesture.

 

I wanted him; I wanted him far too badly. This wasn’t the sort of response I had wanted for myself. I wanted him to suffer, to figure out what in the heck he was going to do with me acting up like this.

 

Instead, I had turned on the floodgates to my own arousal, desperate to know what he was going to do to me next. What I wanted him to do to me next. Would he fuck me now? Would he throw me on this bed and have his way with me like he had planned on all along?

 

If he walked away, I might be partial to begging this time around. Valentino had left me wanting more last time, and my body hadn’t forgotten the fact.

 

His hand came up, and I gasped as a finger trailed down my cheek lightly, his blue eyes never changing color.

 

“So, you’re a bad girl now,” he whispered, the barest hint of mint tickling my nose. “And bad girls get punished, Leda.”

 

My knees weakened as his finger slid down the column of my throat, over the frantic beat of my pulse under my skin before he grasped ahold of the neckline to the teddy. I squeaked as he tore it down the middle—much like he had done with the chemise hours before—and as the sheer material fell to the floor, he pushed me onto the bed.

 

I overstepped.

 

And now he was going to make me pay.