Belladonna (Billionaire Boys Club #1)

Chapter 52

Madelaina:

"Well?" I question when he doesn't answer.

His features relax from the hard expression he bore but the heat in his jade eyes remains.

"You look..." He trails off and I narrow my eyes.

I may get anxious about a lot of things. But outfits have absolutely zero part in that.

Fashion is one of my strong suits.

I know what I like and I know what I like is certainly a whole lot better than a non-response.

"What?"

"You-"

"You can't even come up with something mediocre? Like, you look beautiful?"

"No." He shakes his head and mine rears back.

"No? You don't think I do?"

"No." His voice turns stony and low. "Beautiful wouldn't even begin to describe what you are, Principessa."

My lips part and I gaze up at him with equal parts shock and vulnerability.

What you are. Not, what you look like.

The second could probably seep into the first but something about him referring to me. All of me. Has my heart hammering in my chest and opening to allow him entry into a part of me I didn't even know he held residence for.

"What would?" I ask, slightly breathless.

"Nothing could." He shakes his head again, like he is somehow the one who's confused.

"Words." I tilt my own. "Isn't that your thing? You're good with them. Surely you can come up with something."

His mouth lifts into a smirk and he steps into me. His arms coming around to pull me even closer and I feel his lips brush my ear. The Italian that spills from them coming out in a smooth, dizzying song.

"Nemmeno tutte le parole a cui riesco a pensare, in questa vita e nella prossima, potrebbero mai essere paragonate alla tua bellezza."

He moves away and stares at me for a moment before twisting around and pulling open the door. "Come on."

Then he walks out of it.

"Why are you standing there looking dumb? Follow me."

"You're calling me dumb?" I say, exasperated as I do indeed, follow after him.

"You know what I mean." He complains.

"I'm pretty sure I don't." I call, trying to catch up to him.

When I do, he is already standing by the car with my door open.

Wait, the door. Not mine.

He helps me in and buckles me as usual. And as usual, the butterflies in my stomach take flight.

When he is in his own seat, he starts up the engine and gives me another once over before putting his foot on the pedal.

"So are you going to tell me where we're going now?"

"Not in the slightest."

I fold my arms over my chest and glare out of the window.

"You'll find out soon." He tries to amend, laying a hand on my thigh.

"Not soon enough." I grumble.

I feel his deep chuckle more than I can hear it and he squeezes. "So impatient."