Chapter 39: I’ll Have You Against The Wall
Gla’s POV
Gia’s hands trembled as she lifted them defensively, and I started forward slowly, each step intentionally threatening.
She began backing away, step by step, fear creeping in.
“And to correct the trash you just spewed, I don’t need you, or your father’s rotting blood, to seal my throne. That chair has been in my family for over twenty years. I didn’t need you for anything.” My voice dropped lower, meaner. “If anything, you were there for a show, a common display.”
Pain flashed in her eyes. For a reason I couldn’t control, my chest tightened at the sight. But I forced myself to hold her stare, to stay cruel. If I softened now, I’d lose the upper hand, and she’d keep digging into wounds I swore no one would ever see. I needed her to hate me, to fear me, not to cleanse me or undo me the way she always seemed to.
Every shred of her stubborn spirit dissolved before me, leaving not the fierce girl who met me blow for blow, but a vulnerable woman, whose hurt was clear to see.
“So that’s how you see me? A common whore. Something you bought at an auction.”
That fragile, broken version of her pierced deeper than all her defiance ever could. My first instinct was to look away, to stop this before it turned into something I couldn’t control. I could handle her fire, her rebellion. What I couldn’t handle was her emotion, the kind that dragged me back into the ruins I’d buried with my wife’s body.
My face hardened. “So what, Gianna? You want me to reassure you? You want me to tell you that’s not what you’ve become? That your father didn’t leave you alone to face the consequences of his wicked acts?”
“Leave my father out of this,” she bit out, then dropped her head, shame etched across her features as though she couldn’t even look at me. “My father made his mistakes. They’ve become too obvious for me to deny. If everyone at that cursed gathering could agree that he was a monster, then maybe the man I knew, the man who raised me, wasn’t who I thought he was. Maybe he did horrible things. Maybe he hurt more people than I’ll ever know.”
Her chest rose and fell too fast, then her head lifted, her voice laced with accusation.
“But what about you, Dante? You’re forcing me into a life I’ve told you again and again I don’t want. What kind of man does that make you? Tell me, what gives you the moral right to believe you’re any better than my father?”
Her words ignited something violent in me. Rage surged, and before I could stop myself, I drove her backward. My hand pressed forward until her back struck the wall with a dull thud. She flinched, fear spilling into her eyes, and yes, I liked it. She needed to understand I held the power, and she would learn to squirm beneath it.
“Don’t you dare compare me to that man.” My voice tore through the room. “Your father was a monster, Despicable. Vile. He destroyed lives and called it power.”
She pressed herself deeper into the wall, trembling, her small voice scraping out anyway. “And you’re not? Tell me you’ve never murdered anyone. Tell me you’re clean.”
I leaned so close my breath mingled with hers, my voice rough as stone. “It’s not the same. I don’t kill family, I
father….” don’t destroy the people close to me. I only destroy enemies. But your
I stopped myself. My lips closed tight. No. She wasn’t ready for that truth. She wasn’t allowed that piece of me,
Her brows pinched together, reading me too damn well. “But my father… what?”
I shut it down, dragging the stoic mask back over my face. Enough. Go to bed, Gianna. Now.”
Her lips parted, eyes lit with defiance I recognized all too well. I should have been furious. God knows I wanted to
Chapter 39 ( Have You Against The Wall
+25 Bonus
- be. But what coursed through me wasn’t anger, it was hunger.
All I wanted was to crush my mouth against hers, to swallow every retort, every fire–soaked word, until she had nothing left but me. I wanted to lose myself in her until the world disappeared. But I didn’t trust myself tonight. Not with her, not with this. If I started, I wouldn’t stop. And she had no idea that pushing her away wasn’t rejection, it was mercy.
Then she leaned closer, close enough that her lips brushed mine, and the heat seeped into me like gasoline to a
flame.
“If I say no, what happens next?”
My palm slammed against the wall beside her head, caging her in.
I forced the words through clenched teeth, guttural. “Gianna Giovanni, this isn’t a debate. Don’t, fucking, push me.”
Her eyes darkened, challenging me, as if she knew exactly how close I was to the edge. “And what if I…”
She didn’t finish. I didn’t let her. My mouth crashed onto hers, the kiss hard, bruising, everything I’d kept locked inside. For the first time, she didn’t resist.
I half expected her to fight me, to shove me off. Instead, she kissed me back, fierce, hungry, meeting me stroke for stroke like she’d been starving for it too. Fire shot through me, tearing down every wall I’d built.
I ripped myself back before I lost everything, my forehead pressing hard against hers, my breath ragged, my voice a dark growl against her lips. “Go to bed, or I’ll fuck you against this wall. Is that what you want, Gianna?”
Her eyes widened, caught between shock and desire. Her breathing slowed, then quickened with an emotion that looked like surrender. Then, as if realizing just how far she’d gone, she shook her head quickly, eyes wide, lips trembling.
And just like that she bolted past me, fleeing down the closet and into the bedroom.
The moment I was alone, my fist slammed into the wall. A curse tore out of me, half rage, half a battle for control, because every part of me screamed to go after her, to drag her back, to finish what she’d started the second her lips touched mine.
Tonight was different. I could still taste her on my mouth. She wanted me just as badly as I wanted her, and that truth burned hotter than anything else. It would have been so damn easy to chase her, to tear down the line I’d been forcing myself to hold.
But I made myself remember my own words, that one day she would beg for me.
If I gave in tonight, if I crossed that line now, I wouldn’t stop.
She thought I was cruel already. She had no idea how much da
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
