Chapter 9

Kate's POV

Ungraceful? Yep. But did I care? Nope!

I sure as hell wasn't going to give an evil woman like that some face, public or not. Plus…I still wasn't ready to face her after the stunt I pulled.

“Katherine!” I heard my uncle call, flabbergastment obvious in his voice.

I felt guilt wash over me. He was the only one that truly cared for me after all. I deliberated whether to stop and go greet them properly after all.

In the moment of hesitation, I wasn't completely focused on the door ahead. As I burst through it, I crashed into someone. The next instant, flutes, glasses and bottles of assorted wines crashed on me.

I quicky rolled away to avoid more of them, then stood up in dismay. My clothes were ruined.

The very next instant however, my dismay was replaced by shock and surprise.

“Arya!” I gasped. What was she doing here?

She smiled wickedly and before I could react, emptied the one bottle that survived our collision on my head.

Furious, I raised my hand as high as I could and gave her a slap hard enough to send her crashing to the floor.

She had always bullied me, and I was used to it and was forced to endure it because of my aunt. But she had never done so physically.

How dare she do so now after her betrayal? What gave her the confidence?

All the hurt, the embarrassment, the anger. They all coiled inside me, making my blood boil. Yesternight, I had been a mess looking for who to comfort me.

Now, I was a beast looking for who to unleash my hurt on. And she was the perfect prey. I was ready to return tit for tat.

However, a firm hand stopped mine before I could send it crashing to Arya who had just stood up from the floor.

“Stop!”

The deep, baritone voice had a strange calming effect on me. Now knowing who it was that held my hand, the spot suddenly burned.

“Mr Benedetto!” Arya squealed. In an instant, she had somehow changed from the vicious vixen ready to tear me apart to a coquettish young lady with adoring eyes.

It was disgusting. She didn't even try to hide the fact that she wanted to plaster herself against Mr Benedetto.

Immense satisfaction washed over me when Mr Benedetto barely gave her a glance before slipping a hand through my waist and guiding me into the nearest room.

Just before we went through the door, I turned back. Seeing the enraged look on Arya’s face, I smirked at her. I couldn't help thinking that even if it was only to make Arya enraged, being in a fake marriage Dante di Benedetto wasn't so bad.

“What was that?” Mr Benedetto asked the instant the door closed behind us. He stood facing me, arms akimbo.

I shrugged.

“You're not allowed to behave childishly as my wife,” Mr Benedetto said, glancing through my soiled clothes.

“I'm not your wife!” I snapped back at him.

“Yet,” he replied.

The arrogant assurance, the flippant tone, the expressionless face as if he couldn't care less. Somehow, they all came together to arouse intense irritation in me.

Doesn't this man have any emotions?

I felt an intense need to rile him up, to break his mask of indifference. And the first thing that came to mind was well…stupid.

I had to admit I have never been particularly good with riling up someone. But hell, a woman's body was a sure way to get a man to react, no? Everyone on earth knows that.

So I did the stupidest thing I've done yet, which includes the one night stand that got me into this mess in the first place, and plastered my whole self against Mr Benedetto's lusciously masculine body.

As I pressed myself against him, I could feel his muscles tense up, but his expression remained neutral. I trailed my hands up his chest, my fingers tracing the contours of his muscles through his shirt. I tilted my head up, my lips inches from his, and whispered, "Prove it."

For a moment, we just stood there, locked in a silent challenge. Then, something flickered in his eyes, a spark of emotion that he quickly suppressed. But I saw it, and it gave me the courage to push further.

I leaned in closer, my lips brushing against his. It was a soft, gentle kiss, but it sent shivers down my spine. I could feel his warmth, his scent, his presence enveloping me.

And then, just as suddenly, he pulled away. His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, and he growled, "That's enough."

I smiled, feeling a thrill of victory. I had gotten to him, cracked that mask of indifference. But my triumph was short-lived, as he spun me around and pinned me against the wall, his body trapping mine.

"You're playing with fire, little one," he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. "Don't think you can tease me and get away with it."

I felt a shiver run down my spine as his lips trailed down my neck, sending sparks flying through my body. I realized, too late, that I had underestimated Dante di Benedetto. He wasn't just a man without emotions; he was a man with a hidden depth, a man who could ignite a fire within me with just one touch.

Regret washed over me as I realized I was powerless against him, both physically and emotionally. This man had a grip on me that no one else has ever had.

Was it just because of a passionate one night stand? Does a sweet one night stand sex do that to someone? I wasn't sure.

What I was sure of though, was this his lips on my skin aroused a fire in me that I've never felt.

And it made me scared. That he had such power over me.

When his lips brushed against my breasts, my willpower threw up her hands in defeat and collapsed under the sensations that assaulted my mind.