Torturing The Billionaire Book 2

chapter 20

This chapter is not edited. There will be many mistakes. Somethings may even not add up.

Britondii Luca pov

Want
Ciara-- Body Party

The streaked coverings of his eyes latched together , concealing the penetrating, jewelled gems, flawlessly threaded brows-- not a single strand of erroneous hair in sight, creased and a full very magnetizing and distracting mouth pressed together and curled in avid absorption; under my blue gaze, lips curved in humor, I voicelessly studied the incontestably good looking, sexy man before me as once more he endeavored to create an 'artwork' with the use of paper towels and his mere hands but just as the ten or so earlier trials, this now one also appeared set out to be defaulted, a failure.

By the time a nanosecond had elapsed, the man's eyelids flashed open and he held high and proud the piece  whilst in accomplishment, he smirked, admiring the crude creation. "There you go Miss Luca -- my brainchild. Is it not a sight to behold? A striking beauty?" He rumbled, the sound deranging, rough as deep sea waves yet contemporaneously so damn viscous, I felt as though if I desired to reach out and carress it, I would feel it's moist coat streaming onto my fingers.

I abruptly shook my head and for the briefest of moments allowed the lids of my eyes to lower aspiring to  quell the asinine, feather headed thoughts. Just the same as I watched with famished gazes, the man from across the table, I visualized his mouth and hands roaming and bringing satisfaction to my body-- much like he had done only nights agone.

Whereas I battled to banish the bothersome mental disturbances, I permitted a low laugh to fall from my lips in result of the man's sportful hyperbolizing and in paramount marvel, I shook my head and then fingered the crudely made number which was as of now loosely suspended from the tips of his long, brawny, skillful fingers.

I angled my head, blue eyes washing over him and exposited to mock the man who in prospect, beheld me. "It is a rather -em- peculiar piece of nothingness. Is that what it is Michelangelo? A creation of zilch?"

For a second, Sebastian scowled but then grinned, his lips curved and pink, expertly carved and then from incredulity he released a playful, choked gasp. "God--no!" He eyed his creation. "You wound my soul woman. This award winning piece is called -em- A Starry Night." He placed the piece with extreme caution and care onto the table top as though it were as he described -award winning- and pointed at various components of the paper.

"See right here? "His forefinger rested on a particular  emplacement,piece, arching an eyebrow I nodded. "Yes"

"Ah Miss Luca -- that is the Big Dipper. This is without a doubt a master piece which must be worth a half a million dollars."

I swallowed a long drag of the tipid nearly tasteless French vanilla and smirked, observing the thirty four year old business magnate before me. "Stick to business please Mr. Monteiro and in whatever case-- you owe this cafe a pack of napkins."

"You have not eaten anything" Mr. Monteiro noted opening the menu card which were before neatly set before him, his healthy lawn coloured stare provoking, hot as he added, "why?"

I grimaced and ground my teeth trying to take hold of my brewing aggravation -- why were this man so damn irritating? "I do not owe you an elucidation for my decisions Mr. Monteiro"

"Hmmm. Miss Luca " he rumbled, latching the card and resetting it onto the table. Despite the fact that the simplistic sound should not have had the authority to-- not even remotely, it caused the hairs on the back of my neck and also my arms to rise and all of a sudden, I struggled to breathe.