For Angelo (Full-Length Standalone Italian Billionaire Romance) (9 page)

A nervous giggle escaped her. “Is that a jibe about my taste in fashion?”

“Those are your words,” he pointed out smoothly, “not mine.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Any more questions, my Lane?”

Right.
Her mind went back to la-la land at the endearment. She should have more questions, she knew, but now all she could think of was she wanted to hear him say that again and again. That she was his—

“Maybe if you look away,” she suggested hesitantly, “I could maybe think of more questions.”

“Or maybe deep down inside you already know there’s nothing to question.” The smile he gave her was pure iniquity, almost like it was telling her to simply seize the day and forget about worrying.
 

Trust me,
that immorally beautiful smile said.
You will love being a masochist because I’ll be the one to torture you.

His smoldering gaze roamed her body, as if he was already thinking of ways to make her cry out—

Lane hastily took a sip of her milkshake.
Gosh.
Why did it feel like the place had suddenly become hot? She focused on the swirls of liquid in her drink, and without his heated gaze to distract Lane, the question she most needed to ask slowly came back.

“Does being a masochist really mean I’d be whipped and, well, be on the receiving end of pain?” When Angelo didn’t answer right away, she couldn’t help looking up—

His lips curved, as if he had only been silent to make her worry.

Oh!

Her toes curled at the sight even as she protested, “Stop teasing me, I’m being serious!” Lane wasn’t sure whom she was more irritated at – Angelo for always wanting to keep her on her toes, or at herself for actually feeling like that smile of his had been a reward.
 

“But I am being serious, too,
tesoro.
That was my way of making you realize the kind of masochist you are.” Before she could answer him, he had reached for her hand across the table, and she nearly jumped in shock.

“Most of them think it’s all about the physical pain, but it’s not.”
 

“Umm…” Lane could barely understand him. She was too busy trying not to swoon at the feel of his fingers twining with hers.

“A few of them are…different.” Angelo continued playing with her hand, alternating between stroking her knuckles and tracing random lines on the back of her hand.
 

She strove hard to concentrate on his words, but it was impossible. Gosh. Oh gosh. Her body was on fire, and her pulse was leaping madly at every leisurely stroke of his long, graceful fingers.

“
Like you.”

His gaze cast a spell over her, and completely enthralled, she could only whisper dumbly, “Like me?”

The barest hint of a wicked smile slashed his lips. “Yes, my Lane. You’re different from most. You’re the kind who crave emotional torment, the kind who like being made to beg, forced, and blackmailed.”
 

When he finished speaking, weaving a spell so much darker and harder to resist, she could only surrender to it, saying dreamily, “Yes, I’m…”

No, wait.

What had he said?

Lane instinctively jerked her hand out of his hold, stiffening in her seat. “What did you say?”

He leaned back with a smirk. “You heard me.”

Most times she wanted to kiss him, but at that moment she had a surprising urge to slap his smirk off his too-beautiful face. She said fiercely, “I’m not an abuse victim waiting to happen!”

“I know that.” His smirk disappeared, but his voice remained calm as he continued, “And it’s where you’re wrong. Masochism isn’t about abuse at all. That’s just how people who don’t understand it twist things. It’s like what I said earlier,
tesoro.
Sadism and masochism is merely a form of pleasure, a specific way of making one feel good. And for masochists—” He shrugged. “Pain is the stimulus for pleasure.”

That was it? She gazed him uneasily. “You make it sound so simple—”

“Because it is.” Again, he caught her off guard, leaning forward as he reached for her face. “And you believe me, don’t you?” His gaze captured hers as he ran his knuckles on her cheek.

Every cell of her body came alive at the contact, and Lane’s eyes involuntarily drifted close to savor the feel of his touch
.
“Yes…” And then she realized what was happening. Her eyes flew open, and she said accusingly, “You’re making me say things again!”

He pulled away with a shrug, a gesture that was infuriatingly and effortlessly sexy at the same time. “
Mi dispiace
,
tesoro,
but is it my fault if it’s in you to obey me?”

She turned red and tried to hide her dismay behind a glare, sputtering, “So now I’m not just a weird masochist but a Sub, too?”
 

Another shrug. “Usually, those two come hand in hand, yes.”

The urge to hit him returned with a vengeance, but it was also accompanied by an equally strong urge to bang her head against the table. Dear God, was she really a masochist and a Sub combined?

She looked at Angelo, and the words were out before she could stop them. “Are you telling me the truth? Am I really both?” She expected Angelo to make a joke out of it, but instead his gaze became inscrutable.

“Do you trust me to tell you the truth?”
 

“I…guess.”

“Then…do you also see that by trusting me, you’re acting like a Sub entrusting herself to a Dom?”

Her eyes widened.

He said gently, “And that’s your answer.”

Lane’s mouth opened and closed.
 

She reached for her milkshake and saw that her hands were shaking.

Gosh. Oh…gosh.

She was not just a masochist but a Sub, too.
 

Lane looked down at the table.

Angelo’s gaze narrowed at the way Lane was suddenly staring at the table with utter fascination. Surely she wouldn’t—

Lane took a deep breath. If she banged her head against it, did that mean she would like the feel—

She heard Angelo say in a distinctly clear voice, “Don’t be an imbecile, my Lane.”

Her head jerked up. “Did you just call me an imbecile?” But she was only pretending to be mad because, horrible masochist that she was, she liked the way he was teasing her.

Lane had a silly urge to cry.

Oh. My. GOSH.

She was really a masochist.

Angelo knew a nicer man would have felt dismayed at the look of agony on her face, but he was not like all nice men.

He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and Lane’s tormented expression gave him nothing but sadistic pleasure.
 

Even so, he
tried
to be nice, managing to murmur, “I’m sorry this has become such a shock.”

“You don’t sound sorry though,” she couldn’t help pointing out in a mumble.

He shrugged. “Well…if you wish me to be honest, no. I don’t. But then you understand why, don’t you?”

She nodded glumly.

“And you like me this way, don’t you?”

She turned red.

“I’ll take your silence as a yes.”

She glared at him, but since what he said was true—

“Then
tesoro,
what is the problem?”

“Everything,” she cried out.
 

“Be more specific.”

“I’m not even halfway to understanding what being a masochist means, and now you’re telling me I’m a slave—”

“I beg to differ,” he countered. “I said you were a Sub, or a Sub in the making—”

“And Subs are slaves, aren’t they?” she demanded. Breathing hard, she closed her eyes for a moment so she could control her emotions, which felt like they were about to burst any moment. When she opened her eyes, she almost screamed at finding Angelo had silently leaned forward, and his face just an inch away from hers.

He pulled away, eyes gleaming with amusement, and she knew he had done it again.

“Sadist!” But her toes curled even as she threw the word at him like a curse.

He smiled beautifully at her just before saying, “Masochist.”

And her toes curled anew, as if to drive the point home.

“This, my Lane—” His hands moved in an expressive gesture that was so typically Italian she almost smiled. “—is how it will be between us. Forget what you’ve heard about other Subs and masochists. For us two, it will always be this good.”

He held her hand, taking her by surprise once more, and she froze when he brought it to his lips.

“Angelo,” she began uneasily.

 
“Between the two of us, it will be like…” He nipped her index finger, saying, “Master.” He nipped her third finger. “And.” He moved to the fourth, and by now she was ready to swoon. “Beloved.”
 
Her body jerked as he moved to her pinky. “
Pet
.”

“
Okay
.” She was ready to give him anything by now, she just wanted him to make her feel good again.

He smiled at her.

She smiled back at him.

But then her mind started to work, and she choked out, “Excuse me? Did you just say I’m going to be like your
pet
?”

“A beloved pet,” he corrected.

“But it’s still a pet!”

“It’s a good thing,” he promised. “Trust me.”

“I don’t.”

“You’ll love being my pet.”

His voice had become an intoxicating mix of commanding and enticing, and oh gosh, she felt herself melting at the sound. Lane grimaced. “Okay,” she said reluctantly. “Maybe I will.”

His lips curved into a smile. “
Good girl.
”

He leaned away, and the sudden distance between them was like having a bucket of ice water thrown at her.
And he probably knew that, too
, she thought glumly.

He really was a sadist, a beautiful, fallen angel who refused to go to heaven because he was having too much fun torturing naïve mortals like her.

It was a terrifyingly sexy truth, and even more terrifying was that she really did like being tortured.

The silence that followed wasn’t exactly tense, but it wasn’t comfortable either.

“Would your parents mind if you don’t go home for spring break?”
 

Surprised at the question, she blurted out, “Are you saying you want me to stay?”

His gaze bored through her. “You already know the answer to that.”

Oh.
She swallowed.
Gosh.
He wanted her to stay in town for spring break.

“T-they won’t mind,” she heard herself say.

“Good.” His tone was filled with satisfaction, and his smoldering gaze promised her a reward for giving him the answer he wanted.

Her toes curled. Was it bad that she was excited about the reward, even if it meant being tortured again?

“Do you have a place to stay here?”

Lane hesitated, thinking about her flat, which she had unfortunately sublet to a friend for spring break.
 

“
Tesoro
?”

A crazy idea occurred to her, and Lane heard herself say, “Well…I can think of a place.”
 

“I can take you there.” Angelo raised his cup to take another sip. “Where is it?”

“Wherever your place is.”
 

Chapter Six

Angelo choked on his coffee and quickly set it down. Whatever happened to his shy and old-fashioned Lane? When he saw that she was serious, he said flatly, “That’s not possible.”

She frowned unhappily. “Why not?”

His gaze narrowed. “Is it not enough that I said so?”