Sandra Marton - The Sicilian's Christmas Bride

She’d meant the words to be a command. Instead, they were a whisper. He smiled with amusement, and she felt an electric jolt in her blood.

“I said, let go…Or did you come here thinking you could bully me back into your arms?”

His eyes grew dark; she saw his mouth twist. The seconds ticked away and then, when her heart seemed ready to leap from her breast, he thrust her from him, stepped back and folded his arms.

“Never that,” he said coolly. “And you’re right. Things were over between us. I knew it. In fact, that was the reason I went to see you that night. I wanted to tell you we were finished.” He gave a quick smile. “As you say, cara, things get old.”

She’d known the truth but hearing it made it worse. Still, she showed no reaction. He wanted her to squirm, and she’d be damned if she would.

“Is that what this is about? That the great Dante Russo wants to be sure I understand I made the first move only because your timing was off?”

Dante chuckled. “Bright as always, Taylor—though you surely don’t believe I bought this bank and made this trip only so I could tell you it was pure luck you ended our affair before I did.”

Tally moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. She was dying inside, but she’d be damned if she’d let him know it.

“No. I’m not that naive. You bought the bank because—” Desperately, she ran through the terms of the loan in her mind. Could he do that? Could he cancel what Dennison had already approved? “Because you think you can cancel my loan.”

“Think?” he said, very softly. “You underestimate me. I can do whatever I wish, but canceling a loan that already exists would take more time and effort than it’s worth.” He smiled. “So I’m going to do the next best thing. I’m reinstating the original repayment terms.”

Her gaze flew to his. “Reinstating them?” she said stupidly. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s simple, cara,” he said, almost gently. “As of now, you will pay the amount you are supposed to pay each month.”

Tally thought of the four-figure number the loan called for. She was paying a quarter of that amount now, and barely managing it.

“That’s—it’s out of the question. I can’t possibly—”

“Additionally, you will pay the amount that’s in arrears.” He took a slip of paper from his pocket and held it out toward her. His lips curved. “Plus interest, of course.”

Tally looked at the number on the paper and laughed. It was either that or weep.

“I don’t have that kind of money!”

“Ah.” Dante sighed. “I thought not. In that case, you leave me no choice but to start foreclosure proceedings against your home.”

She felt the blood drain from her face. “Foreclosure proceedings?”

“This was a home equity loan. You put up your house as collateral.” Another quick, icy smile. “If you don’t understand what that means, perhaps your lover can explain it to you.”

“Are you crazy?” Tally’s voice rose. “You can’t do this! You can’t take my house. You can’t!” Her hands came up like a fighter’s, fists at the ready as if she would beat him into understanding the horror of his plan. “Damn you, there are rules!”

“You’ve forgotten what you know about me,” Dante said coldly. “I make my own rules.”

He proved it by gathering her into his arms and kissing her.

HE WAS KISSING HER, Dante told himself, because she’d lied to him a few minutes ago.

Why else would he want her in his arms, except to make her confess to the lie?

Taylor had never faked her responses in bed, and he’d be damned if he’d let her pretend she had.

He was over her, but she knew just the right buttons to push. Well, so did he. He’d kiss her until she melted against him the way she used to and then he’d step back and say, You see, Taylor? That’s the price liars pay.

Which was why he was kissing her.

Or trying to.

The problem was that he had cornered a wildcat. She fought back, twisted her head to the side to avoid his mouth and pummeled his shoulders with her fists.

When none of that worked, she sank her teeth in his ear lobe so hard he hissed with pain.

“Damn you, woman!”

“Let go of me, you—you—”

Her fist flew by his jaw. Grimly, Dante snared both her hands in one of his and pinned them to his chest. Her knee came up but he felt it happening and yanked her hard against him to immobilize her. She was helpless now, pinned between him and the wall beside the double doors.

“Take your hands off me, Russo! If you don’t, so help me—”

“So help you, what? What will you do? How will you stop me from proving what a little liar you are?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I am not a—”

He bent his head and captured her mouth with his. She nipped his lip, her teeth sharp as a cat’s. He tasted blood but if she thought that would stop him, she didn’t know him very well.

He would win this battle.

He had the right to know why she’d lied about what she’d felt when he made love to her. And to know why she’d left him.

He wanted answers and, damn it, he was going to get them.

He caught her face in his hands. Kissed her again, angling his mouth over hers, penetrating her with his tongue. He remembered how she’d loved it when he kissed her this way. Deep. Wet. Hot. He’d loved kisses like this, too…

He still did.

Dio, the feel of her in his arms. Her breasts, soft against his chest. Her hips, cradling his erection.

He wanted her, and it had nothing to do with anger.

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