Chapter 54

Vincenzo pov

Everything just keeps failing, I can't even have the taste of her pussy, that bastard always ruins everything. She was supposed to be a fuckin breeder, Marcello have no right to dictate who fucks her and how she gets fucks by me.

I stood there, my mind swirling with thoughts of the meeting I had just exited, when I snapped my fingers in frustration, cutting through the tension that hung in the air. The woman standing near the door, ostensibly hired to assist with the luggage, didn’t flinch at my sudden movement. Instead, she regarded me with an annoyingly adoring smile that felt more like an intrusion than a comfort. “Mm...mm...sir, you look so handsome,” she cooed, her voice laced with a flirtatious lilt that grated on my nerves.

My frown deepened as I shifted my weight, annoyance flaring within me. Small talk was the least of my concerns; my mind raced with the more pressing matters that awaited my attention. “Get the bags inside, now!” I barked, my tone sharp, the impatience in my voice unmistakable.

She scrambled to gather the luggage, but her heels, sleek and impractical, conspired against her. One of the bags tumbled from her grasp, hitting the hardwood floor with a dull thud that echoed my rising anger. “Move, now!” I thundered, striding toward her with purpose. “You’re paid to work, not to gawk!” I seized her arm, my fingers wrapping around her wrist with an iron grip. “Stand up, now!” I demanded, my voice low and filled with authority.

To my surprise, she stood up, giggling. "Your hands are soft," she said, her voice husky. I felt a jolt of irritation mixed with...something else. Something I didn't have time for.

"Don't distract me with your flattery," I growled, releasing her arm. "Pick up the bag and get moving." My palm tingles where I'd touched her skin. What was wrong with me?

As she bent to pick up the bag, I noticed the way her hair fell in soft waves down her back. I pushed the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand. "Faster!" I urged, my tone harsh.

She stood up, the bag slung over her shoulder, and met my gaze with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You're quite the charmer, aren't you?" she said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

My anger flared up again. Who did she think she was? "Just get the bags inside," I grated, turning away to hide my conflicting emotions.

I turned away, trying to compose myself, but her words lingered, fueling my anger. Who was she to mock me? I was her employer, after all. My strides lengthened as I walked towards the house, expecting her to follow.

But she didn't move fast enough. I spun around, my anger boiling over. "You're paid to work, not sass me!" I thundered, my hand shooting out to slap her. The sound echoed through the hallway as her head jerked to the side.

For a moment, she just stood there, her eyes wide with shock. Then, she looked up at me, a hint of apology in her gaze. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to overstep." Her voice was soft, but I could detect a hint of defiance beneath.

My anger didn't dissipate. Instead, it intensified. How dare she flirt with me, mock me, and then apologize as if nothing had happened? I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. "Guard, come take this woman away. Lock her in the servant quarters. She's clearly not fit for the job."

The guard arrived promptly, his face expressionless. "Yes, sir." He took her arm, and she didn't resist, her eyes fixed on the floor.

As they walked away, I felt a pang of...something. Regret? No, it couldn't be that. I was simply annoyed that I'd had to deal with such insolence. I turned back to the house, my mind already on the tasks ahead.

But my gaze lingered on the door, wondering what had possessed me to react so violently. Her crazy words echoed in my mind - "You're quite the charmer, aren't you?" - and I felt my anger simmering just below the surface.

I strode into the study, slamming the door behind me. The sound was satisfying, a release of the tension building inside me. I paced around the room, trying to shake off the feeling of unease.

How dare she? How dare she flirt with me, mock me, and then apologize as if nothing had happened? I stopped pacing and stared out the window, my mind racing.

The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the estate. But I didn't notice. My thoughts were consumed by her sparkling eyes, her sassy tone, her soft skin. I felt a jolt of desire, which only added to my anger.

The doorbell rang, breaking the silence. I strode to the door, expecting it to be one of the staff with a question or a problem. But to my surprise, it was my business partner, Marco.

"Vincenzo, what's going on?" Marco asked, his eyes narrowing as he took in my expression. "You look like you've lost your last marble."

I forced a smile, trying to hide my turmoil. "Just a long day, Marco. What brings you here?"

Marco's gaze lingered on me, but he didn't press the issue. "I came to discuss the deal. We've got a problem."

I nodded, grateful for the distraction. Maybe work would help me forget lyra and this crazy lady and her infuriating smile. But as we sat down to discuss the deal, I felt as if my balls were dangling. I need to fuck Lyra if not I would die of horniness .