Shadow Rider Page 91


“No.” Her voice was low. Ashamed. “It was just that they were so smug. They said they sent you pictures last night . . .” She trailed off.

“I deleted them the moment they came in and I didn’t bother to reply to them. I haven’t seen any of the three of them since last year nor have I intended to do so. Had I known they intended to show up here tonight, I would have banned them from the club. They invited me to go to Texas to meet them and I said no.”

His anger hadn’t abated at all, she could tell by the lines around his mouth and the set to his jaw. Abruptly he caught her hand and took her through the crowd, almost dragging her, uncaring of her high heels. Fortunately, the crowd opened up for him, even there in the dark on the dance floor, allowing them through easily.

Stefano took her toward the back of the club, going between two of the bars to the shadowy alcove where a door led to offices. The alcove was very dark and she knew the shadows enclosed them in their own private world. She shivered, knowing she shouldn’t be alone with him. Not now. Not when he was so angry and she was needy.

He walked her backward until she came up against the wall and she couldn’t move another inch. His body crowded hers until there wasn’t enough room to slide a piece of paper between them, until she felt the imprint of his heavy muscles on her breasts and hips.

He tipped her chin up, forcing her eyes to meet his. “I’m going to spell this out for you, Francesca, using plain fucking English so there aren’t any misunderstandings. I’m not fucking around with you. I’m telling you straight up that I want a relationship with you, a permanent one. Exclusive. You and me. No one else. No other women for me. No other men for you. I want to settle down and have a family with you. I know you’re still getting used to the idea and that’s all right. I’ll give you time. But that doesn’t mean another man puts his fucking hands on you. He doesn’t get to hold you in his arms and feel your body up against his. Not. Ever.”

“I danced, Stefano. I like to dance. I don’t understand why you would be angry. You were busy, and I danced with him. I wouldn’t go out with him. I’m not attracted to him. I’m not a cheater. I knew we were both considering a relationship, although honestly, it’s moved so fast for me it’s hard to believe it’s real.”

He leaned down, his arms suddenly around her, yanking her hard against his body. “You aren’t listening to me. I will not tolerate another man putting his hands on you any more than I would expect you to tolerate another woman putting her hands on me. It’s dangerous, Francesca. Dangerous to whatever dumb fuck thinks he has the right to rub his body up against yours. I saw his hand on your ass. That ass belongs to me. No other man puts his hand there. When I saw that, I wanted to kill him. I needed to kill him. I live in a world of violence and now, so do you. You don’t want to put me in that position any more than I would put you there. That’s all I’m going to say on this. I don’t argue. This is your one and only warning.”

She blinked up at him. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious.”

She moved subtly, trying to pull away from him without seeming to do so. Subtle didn’t work. His arms became steel bands, locking her to him, and he leaned his weight against her so that it was impossible to move. The air around them was heavy with his anger. A little shiver of fear went down her spine. Not just fear. Still, impossibly, she felt safe in his arms. She realized that along with that spurt of trepidation, there was a dark, sensual excitement she couldn’t deny.

“You don’t hurt women.” She made it a statement because she had to believe it was true. She knew lies when she heard them; she also knew honesty. He spoke the truth about wanting to kill Dominic, but his anger was directed at her. Still, his hands on her didn’t hurt, not in the least. He could be rough, but he wasn’t violent with women.

“No. I don’t.” He left it at that.

Could she accept him just the way he was? Like this? Darkly sensual? A man used to violence? A man she really knew nothing at all about? She knew she was already lost, too far gone, so attracted to him physically, the chemistry so intense she could barely think with wanting him. Her sense of self-preservation was gone. She should have asked questions, demanded answers.

Francesca moistened her lips. “All right, Stefano.”

“‘All right’? What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means you can stop using such foul language and take a breath. I won’t dance with another man. I won’t let another man touch me. I wouldn’t like it if you were dancing with another woman, so even though it was perfectly innocent I understand what you’re saying. On the other hand, there isn’t any need to be dramatic and talk about danger, violence or killing. You wouldn’t really hurt another man just because he danced with me.” She wasn’t so certain that was true, but she wanted it to be.

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