For Angelo (Full-Length Standalone Italian Billionaire Romance) (6 page)

And when he had spoken to the boy, saw the love in the younger man’s eyes, Angelo’s worst fears had been confirmed. Even now, the taste of bitter defeat still hadn’t left his mouth, and just thinking about it made him murderous.

She
was everything he didn’t want in his life, dammit.
She would only bring him nothing but trouble,
he thought savagely. He knew all this, dammit, so why the hell couldn’t he put an end to this game?
 

All it would take was a single moment to show her that he was not what she imagined him to be, a single moment for her to know what he already knew.

That he was worth no one’s love.

****

The cat-and-mouse game could have gone on endlessly.
 

But there was no way to know.

The rules, and the very game itself, completely changed the day he saw her kiss the convenience store boy.

Even though he had always been known to be courteous and cool-headed, the truth was that Angelo was as proud and possessive as any other hot-blooded Italian.
 

Her standing so close to another man who wasn’t him, her laughing in another man’s company when that sound should only have been for his ears—

All of those he could commit murder for.

But for her lips to be taken by another man—

This, he could not,
would not
forgive.

He didn’t give a damn if he was being sexist about it, didn’t give a damn if his feelings made no sense at all.
 

It didn’t matter if they had made no promises, didn’t matter that he had deliberately made no attempt to learn her name.

The moment she had stared at him like she wanted to belong to him—

A part of him had believed it.

But she had betrayed him.

And so from that moment on, she ceased to exist for him.

****

To forget her, there wasn’t a night that he went to bed alone. He would have one, two, sometimes even more girls than he had fingers in bed with him.
 

But while all the girls he fucked were as experienced and skillful as he was, none of them ever proved capable of filling the growing hollowness inside of him.

It was as if her mere existence had served to underscore the emptiness of his life, and he hated her and himself even more for it.

Was he to be eternally condemned to want what could never be his?

Memories of his past answered him mockingly, and his face hardened.

Jaw clenching, he told himself that this obsession he had for the girl would soon pass. That the need to possess when he had only felt the softness of her hand would fade.
Soon.

Because all of this was just sheer insanity.

And it would pass.

It had to.

But he was wrong.

****

He saw her at the bus stop on the last day of school, right before spring break. He was on his way to the parking lot when he saw her, hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, and her petite, curvy frame dwarfed by hideously serviceable clothes.

That was another thing about her
, he thought broodingly. She didn’t seem the type to have such appalling taste in clothes, but she always showed up to class wearing things that could only be politely described as…unappealing.

He stopped walking even as his mind warned him it would better to pretend he hadn’t seen her…and that goddamn boy.

They were talking again, and she was smiling, too. The sight of it made him want to shake her.
 

Did she not know all her smiles could only be for him?

A bus slowed to a stop in front of the two.

Any moment now, the two would leave, and his body tensed at the realization. His fists clenched and unclenched, and he inhaled roughly.

Let it go, Valencia.

Let her leave.

But his feet were already moving even before he could complete the thought.

If he didn’t stop her from leaving, it wouldn’t just be her kisses that would belong to the boy
, he thought savagely.

It would be her body.

And the moment he thought that, there was no turning back.

Chapter Four

Women loved chick flicks, and most of them liked the parts where the couples kissed, flirted, and made up. Some even liked the meet-cute parts best because these were the moments that gave them hope. These boy-meets-girl scenes ranged from realistic to impossible, but even so, all of them made a girl hope that one fateful day, the boy destined for her would come, however improbable.

But not all women were the same.

For women like Lane, it was the part where two people in love were hurting that they liked the most. Women like Lane saw pain as the other side of love, and it was both emotions that made their hearts beat hard and fast.

While most women hated Richard Gere for failing Julia Roberts in
Pretty Woman
—

While most women wanted Heath Ledger (God rest his soul) for what he did to Julia Stiles in
Ten Things I Hate about You—

Women like Lane were different.

Women like Lane craved such scenes.
 

For them, the torment was necessary, the only way for a man to understand what he once had…and lost. For women like Lane, the storm had to come
before
the rainbow, and most importantly of all, women like Lane believed that being hurt was a beautiful thing, but only if they were being hurt by the
right
person.

Pain, not joy, was what made life
real
, and it was pain – not kindness – that yielded its power to love.

It was a twisted little truth that few would ever understand, a truth that would eventually open Lane’s eyes to the nature of her soul, the secret she was born with, and her destiny.

But she wasn’t to learn any of this…until the day Angelo started hurting her.

In the days that she would see her fallen angel with another girl, Lane would always end up asking herself why.
Why
couldn’t she start hating him?
Why
couldn’t she stop thinking about him?
Why?

The answers eluded her, and so did any sense of self-righteous anger. Even as her heart continued to ache and each day that passed became a darker shade of gray, she was unable to stop waiting.

Wait,
a small voice inside of her insisted, forbidding her to cry at night, forbidding her to lose hope.

Wait.

It was a promise, an entreaty…and a command.

Wait.

And so she waited.

She waited and waited, and before Lane knew it, the semester had ended, and it was time to go home. She stood next to Josh at the bus stop, listening absently to her friend’s mix of diatribe and advice.

You’ll forget him soon enough when you’re back with your family.

You don’t deserve someone like him. He’s too good for you.

On and on it went, but even though she knew everything that her friend had said made perfect sense, a part of her
refused
to believe a word of it.

Wait,
that part of her insisted.

Even as her heart had crumbled into its last few pieces, that part of her refused to relinquish its hold on its unspoken dreams.
 

Wait.

Beside her, Josh was asking in an oddly petulant voice, “Is he really that special?”
 

She watched him kick a pebble out of his way, his frustration evident. She opened her mouth to speak, only to close it again a moment later. How could she explain something she didn’t even understand herself?
 

“Never mind.” Josh’s tone had turned harsh. “Your silence says enough.”

“Josh, I’m sorry.” She wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for, only knew that she felt
obliged
to. “I appreciate you looking after me, really, but—”

“He’s not coming back, Lane!”
 

Josh’s sudden yell startled her, and she stammered, “Josh, calm down—”

“You need to see the truth for yourself!” Josh was still yelling, and he was gripping her shoulders now and shaking so hard her eyeglasses were in danger of slipping off her nose. “He’s
never
coming back—”

“Josh, please—” She managed to push her glasses up and tried to wriggle out of his hold.

“Never coming back—”

And out of nowhere, someone interrupted almost languidly, “Ah, but I have.”

****

Panic
had not figured in Angelo’s life for so long a time, and it was mostly because there was nothing – and no one – he cared enough to want to keep. Until
her.

He didn’t pause to even think of how uncool he was being or worry about what other people would think. Even when he was playing the villain, there had still been rules that he abided by. Be in control, be polite, and most of all, be emotionally detached. These were what made him seem unattainable to women, what made them want him more. But these were also what kept him safe.
 

Until her.

With his strong, powerful hands, he clasped her waist and even as she gasped, he whirled her around to face him.

Their eyes clashed, hers filled with shock and his blazing with emotions.

If he didn’t feel so perilously close to killing the boy behind her, he would have teased her for staring so unashamedly at him.
 

Are you really here,
those caramel brown eyes asked Angelo, and he heard himself say, “Yes.” When she looked at him, clearly bemused, he realized she was too innocent to know just what her eyes were telling him, and a crooked smile formed on his lips.
Pure and seductive all rolled into one
, Angelo thought wryly even while he strove to catch his breath and rein his erection back at the same time. He only had to look at her and his body lost all control over his cock. She was definitely going to have him wrapped around her finger in no time.

Lane’s heart was knocking hard against her chest. Oh gosh, gosh, oh gosh. They were the only thoughts she was capable of, and she knew, if Nellie could hear her now, she would be teased for being the ‘gauche gosh girl.’

But she couldn’t help it.
 

His ridiculously chiseled looks turned her mind into mush, and with him so close, she couldn’t help thinking he seemed so much taller, so much more gorgeous and powerful than she remembered.
 

But then she noticed something else—

Something was off about him, she realized.
 

The slightly tousled look of his hair, the almost feral look in his eyes, and was she just imagining things or was Angelo Valencia breathing a little too hard, like he was panting?
 

Unable to think of anything that could make Angelo Valencia lose his legendary cool, her awe was replaced by concern and Lane blurted out, “Are you okay? You’re not breathing right.”

Angelo deliberately didn’t answer. Not in this lifetime would he ever let her know he had been so uncool as to run after her like he was shooting for the big climax of a Woody Allen movie.

“Ange—Professor Valencia?”

His lips compressed, but he managed to keep his voice level as he murmured, “The seminar’s over. You should call me Angelo.”

Before Lane could answer, she and Angelo heard Josh make an incoherent sound of protest.
 

Angelo’s gaze swung to Josh, and the look he shot her friend was so vicious she heard Josh whimper like a kid.

He slowly turned to face her again, and not wanting him to give her the same look, she said quickly, “Angelo.”

His lips twitched. “You have nothing to worry about.”