Sweet Temptation by Cora Reilly

She gave a small smile. “Don’t let him turn you into something that’s not
you. Our world needs girls like you.”
I gave her a quick hug, and unlike her brother, she didn’t mind and hugged
me back. I was glad to have her on my side, but I needed to find my place in
Cassio’s life by myself. He wouldn’t tolerate anything else.
It was almost eight in the evening when we finally pulled up the driveway to
Cassio’s mansion, a magnificent three-story brownstone building with white
columns supporting the porch, white window frames, and old crooked trees on
the front lawn. Cassio parked in one of the double garages on the left.
He got out and opened the door for me. My stomach hollowed with nerves.
This was my home now, and soon I’d meet the children I’d raise. Cassio’s hand
found its place on my lower back again as he led me toward the magnificent
white front door. Someone from his staff had gathered my belongings in the
morning and brought them to the house.
I released a shaky breath when Cassio put the key in the lock. His eyes cut to
me. “This is your home.”
I gave him a shaky smile, knowing he meant it. Yet judging by the way he’d
handled everything so far, his rules would be the only ones he’d want followed
within those walls. I’d have to fight for every bit of power and freedom—he
wouldn’t hand over either freely.
He opened the door and motioned for me to get inside. I did, trying to figure
out what I was smelling as I scanned the white and gray granite floor. Highpitched
barking almost gave me a heart attack, and a small ball of reddish-brown
fluff stormed through the hall and latched itself onto Cassio’s trouser leg.
Growling, the small dog started to tug at the fabric. I blinked then bit my lip,
stifling laughter. It was too ridiculous a sight not to be amusing.
“Fuck!” Cassio snarled. “Sybil, didn’t I tell you to keep the goddamn dog
locked away?”
My smile died. He bent down and tried to grab the dog’s neck, but the tiny
thing snapped its teeth and bit his finger. Fury flickered across his face, and he
finally managed to grab the dog and lifted it into the air. The dog squeaked once
then fell silent and hung in Cassio’s grasp. My husband looked as if he
considered putting it down with his gun or strangling it with his strong hands.
I touched his arm, terrified for the helpless animal. “Don’t hurt it.”
Cassio’s eyes snapped to mine, still with the same anger in them, and I
dropped my hand but stood my ground.
Steps rang out and a tall dark-haired woman in her early fifties came running
then stopped abruptly and cursed in Italian, looking to the floor. She’d stepped in