Gabriela Stefan Sibbioni s'est pointé sans invitation dans ma chambre à mon seizième anniversaire. Il se tenait dans l'ombre, sentant le whisky et la mort, et m'a enroulé autour du cou un collier cassé et couvert de sang. Je pensais qu'il allait m'étrangler.
Ce soir-là, il a laissé un message à mon père. Il disait qu'il reviendrait pour prendre quelque chose de précieux.
Mais je n'avais jamais livré ce message. Je me demande si cela aurait été différent si je l'avais fait parce que maintenant, deux ans plus tard, il est de retour. Et il ne se cache pas dans l'ombre.
Il est venu tenir sa promesse.
Il est venu pour prendre ce quelque chose de précieux.
StefanMarchese est le responsable de la tragédie de ma famille. Je ne vais pas le mettre à genoux. Je l'enterrerai pour ce qu'il a fait.
Prendre sa fille n'est qu'un début. Je le ferai en sachant que je déclenche une guerre. Je le ferai en sachant que mes ennemis deviendront ses alliés. Ils ne reculeront devant rien pour me détruire et il ne reculera devant rien pour la récupérer.
Mais je n'ai jamais fui la guerre. Je ne suis pas du genre à jouer gentiment et je ne partage pas mes jouets. Je vais te démolir si tu touches à ce qui m'appartient.
Et elle est très précisément la mienne.
Et voici un extrait en VO
"Turn around, Gabriela." I look at her, at the exposed expanse of flawless skin. Flawless but for those marks I know are hidden by the silky material of the dress. The straps of the dress are thin, spaghetti straps. The patterned deep blue falls to just above her knees. When I look up, I meet her gaze in the mirror. She's unblinking. On alert. I'm not an inexperienced man, but there's something about this petulant, defiant girl, my unwilling bride-to-be because when I shift my gaze down again, down to the naked skin of her back, to the curve of her spine and swell of her hips, my cock stirs. I reach out, touch the silk, push it wider so I see more of her. I run my knuckles softly over her warm skin, feel the goosebumps rise as I trail my hand down, then up again, fingertips light along each vertebra. When I reach her hair, I lift the mass of it, feel the weight as I set it over her shoulder. It's not long, it was once, but it's not anymore. Just a little past her shoulders. But still, to see it like this, the dark, sleek mass soft over one shoulder, her back more fully exposed, it awakens something inside me. A thing that wants to claim. To mark as my own. I lean down, bring my mouth to the curve of her neck and meet her eyes as I kiss it. Her breathing is shallow, and she watches me as I run the scruff of my jaw along the line of her shoulder then back. She shudders and I inhale her scent, kiss the curve again, opening my mouth this time to taste her, to bite, just a little. To hear her breath catch as she gasps and to watch her eyes darken as the pupils dilate. I run my fingers down the length of her arms, lightly circle her wrists because she's going to fight me in a minute. "You said something the other night, Gabriela. Something about putting my mark on you." I was right. She tries to pull free but I tighten my hold on her. "You were right. Your body is mine. But thing is, I want the rest too. Your mind. Your past. Your secrets. Your soul. I'll take it all.
About the Author:
USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romance, Natasha Knight specializes in dark, tortured heroes. Happily-Ever-Afters are guaranteed, but she likes to put her characters through hell to get them there. She's evil like that.
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