NINETY-TWO.

I try to focus on the now, the image, and not the way his body caresses mine from behind.

Resting my head against the door, I pull my hand out from under his, and I let it hang at my side.

“I want to know who she is,” I state loud and clear.

The words leave my lips before I can process them and stop them.

Occasionally, my brain has trouble keeping up with my mouth, and I'm starting to think it's a curse.

“You don't want to know, tesoro.”

He removes his hand from the doorknob and places it over my abdomen, pinning my back to his front.

Preventing me from escaping him.

My chest rises and falls vigorously.

“I obviously do if I've asked, Alessandro. Tell me who she is, so we can move forward.” I clench my jaw, being wary not to crush my molars in the process.

“She doesn't matter, and whoever printed that article will find themselves left with no job in a matter of minutes.” He growls.

I shake my head.

This is so typical of him, constantly trying to find a problem by c