My Favorite Kidnapper Read Online Melanie Moreland

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Funny, Insta-Love Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
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“Oh. Well, thanks.”

We pulled up to the villa’s gates.

“Why does Winters hate you so much?”

I drove up the driveway. “He thinks I had something to do with a missing piece of art he had.”

I parked, and we got out of the car. “Why would he think that?” she asked.

I handed her some bags and winked.

“Because I did.”

Chapter Twelve

BRIANNA

I put away the clothes Dante had bought me, running my hand over the yellow sundress. It was so pretty and girly. Not what I usually wore, but mostly because overalls were cheap, lasted a long time, and washed easily. Something like this required care. The only other dress I owned was the one I’d worn to Carolina’s wedding, and I had bought it at the thrift store. Most of my clothing came from secondhand stores. Now I had a whole bunch of new items to choose from. It felt odd to have clothes hanging in my closet that hadn’t been worn by someone else.

My closet.

I shook my head. I was brainwashed. This wasn’t my closet. These weren’t my things. It all belonged to Dante.

Except, somehow, they all felt like mine. Dante had given them to me freely. Insisted on them. He’d even had a quiet conversation with Simona, stepping out of the shop, and I now owned lingerie that would have paid my rent for a month. My ratty Fruit of the Loom cotton underwear and serviceable bras were relegated to the bottom drawer, and soft, lacy undergarments filled the top one. Pretty, but not uncomfortable. Simona had explained I had been wearing the incorrect size bra, and the one I left the store in felt like a second skin to me. When I explained I wasn’t much for fancy, she helped me choose pieces that were pretty and feminine without making me feel like a trussed-up piece of meat.

I stared at the clothes. The lingerie. I thought about how upset Dante had looked when he was headed down the street toward the café. How his face changed when he spotted me. His smile had been full of relief. He looked so happy to see me. He was protective, scaring Winters off. He was generous to a fault, insisting on purchasing all these items. He was a mystery to me—one I couldn’t explain. Carolina had always described him as stern and grumpy. “I’m exceedingly fond of him, and him me, but there is always a line,” she told me. “He isn’t one for hugs or touchy stuff. But he’s always been there for me and always will be.”

His brother and sister-in-law described him as aloof. He himself said he was cold.

There was no doubt he was intense. Scary when angry. Determined and bossy. Extremely high-handed and demanding. Had a propensity for doing as he pleased, even if it meant taking control of someone else’s life by kidnapping them.

Yet with me, he showed a gentler side. He smiled. Laughed. Teased. Asked for little in return, to be honest. My company. My cakes.

And my body.

He made no secret of the fact that he wanted me. And the bottom line was, the longer I was in his presence, the more I wanted to give it to him. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could resist. How much I really wanted to resist. Sixty days with a sexy man who wanted to spoil me, teach me about sex, and shower me with gifts? It would be a lovely memory to think back on when I was old and gray. A fun story to shock my children with. I had to make sure the only thing I lost to him was my virginity.

I wasn’t sure I would survive losing my heart as well.

I walked into the kitchen, surprised to see Dante cooking. I took a minute to stare. I had seen him in a suit. He wore dress shirts every day that showed off his broad shoulders and form. In the pool, I’d felt his wall of muscles, seen how his biceps rippled, but somehow in a casual Henley and jeans, the sleeves of his shirt pushed up, a towel flung over his shoulder, and barefoot, he was sexier than ever.

“Good. There you are. Dinner is almost ready.”

“Where is Gia?” I asked.

He frowned as he tasted the sauce simmering on the stove. “Little Bee, I have two villas, condos in London, Naples, and Toronto. Do you really think I employ full-time housekeepers in all of them? This is my primary residence, and even here, Gia works only part time. She and her husband, Mario, look after the villa and the grounds and hire the right people to maintain it.”

“I see.”

“Gia often cooks me breakfast, but I am perfectly capable of cooking for myself. My mother taught me when I was younger.” He added some pepper into the sauce. “I fend for myself a great deal of the time.”


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