Rosette's point of view ~~~
What’s wrong with him?
That was all I could think as Cesare Llewellyn’s footsteps echoed through the hall, carrying me like I was a feather in his arms.
His touch burned through the thin fabric of my dress and his grip was too firm to be casual, too gentle to be cruel.
My heart thundered against my ribs, trying to make sense of this man who’d kissed my neck like a lover yet looked at me like a predator claiming what was his.
This wasn’t the Cesare I remembered. Not the cold, calculating rival. Not the arrogant billionaire who smiled like the devil in silk suits. No, he was different. Intimate and possessive. I doubt he was drunk since there was no smell of alcohol on him.
We reached the top of the stairs, and he pushed open a door with his broad shoulder
