Page 45 of The Don's Secret Heir

I wake up with a start, sitting straight up in bed. I pant, trying to calm down as I wipe sweat from my forehead. I hate going back to that time, hate even thinking about it.

Anger rushes through me. He put me through all of that and now he might have killed my father.

No.

Hedidkill my father. Who else could it be?

It was him or someone he hired. I just know it.

I don’t know if it’s the bad dream, being angry at myself for still wanting him so much, or the potential killing of my father but I don’t think, just act.

I reach into the pocket of my discarded dress to grab the pocketknife my father gave me for protection when I was fifteen. It has my initials carved on the pearl handle.

Dario’s sleeping on his back, having shed his shirt and pants, just in his boxer briefs. One arm is on his chest, the other above his head. I straddle his lap and he mumbles something in his sleep but doesn’t stir.

My breath turns ragged as I open the pocketknife, my chest heaving as I look down at him.

Can I really do this? Can I really kill someone? Can I kill the man I used to love?

That maybe... just maybe... a part of me still does?

I press the knife against his throat and then realize that he’s gone stiff beneath me.

“Li,” he whispers hoarsely and I swallow hard. “Do it. Don’t be a coward.”

I blink, my eyes focusing on his face. His expression is blank as he looks up at me with dark, hooded eyes.

“You’ve already taken everything else. Might as well take my life, too,belissima.”

“Stop that,” I whisper. “You’re the one who hurt me.”

My hand starts to tremble and I squeal as he flips me over onto my back, pinning my wrists above my head with one strong hand.

He wrenches the pocketknife out of my hand, not closing it. Instead he presses it to the base of my throat and my heart starts to race.

“Did you think this through, Li? All I’ve tried to do is help you.”

“Oh, fuck you. You get a tax break and my body out of it.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Your body? Tell me, Li, did I force you?”

I huff, staying stiff as he trails the flat of the blade down between my breasts. My breath catches in my throat. Am I... am Iturned onright now?

I am. Heat pools in my lower belly, and I’m slick between my legs.

I turn my eyes away from his face, my face flushed.

“No,” I mutter, hating myself all the more.

“You enjoyed it as much as I did,” he murmurs, sliding the knife down underneath my breast. The blade feels cold against myskin but not sharp. He’s careful, only using the flat of the knife. “Even this is making you hot, isn’t it,belissima?”

“Stop it,” I whimper, but my heart’s not in it.

“Remember how we used to use the stoplight system?” he asks idly, sliding the blade down to dip into my navel, making me gasp, my skin trembling beneath his touch.

“Green means go,” I gasp, nearly senseless as he continues to tease me.

“That’s good enough for me,” he grunts, and then he’s tossing the knife onto the nightstand. Then he’s on top of me, spreading my thighs apart with one of his.