The air in the mansion was thick. Heated.
Not from the violence that had just happened but from the storm that was still brewing in Alessandro’s eyes.
Alessandro turned sharply, his dark gaze locking onto Rose. His nostrils flared slightly, chest rising and falling like a man trying to hold back a hurricane.
His eyes raked down her body.
Her skimpy nightwear clung to her curves in all the wrong ways, driving him mad with a possessiveness he could no longer hide.
“Che cazzo stai indossando, principessa?”
(What the f**k are you putting on, princess?)
His voice was low, dangerous. The fury hadn’t left his tone, and now it was aimed entirely at her.
Rose folded her arms tightly over her chest, glaring. “I was just sitting here, minding my business, when he came. And what I wear is none
