Something like satisfaction gleamed in the leopard’s eyes before he turned and moved off, back to the pile of clothes Paolo had placed on the chair to her left. Just out of her vision. She didn’t turn her head to watch him. She knew now what she was up against. Paolo had made it as plain as he could make it. He intended to have her, and he would treat her the way he saw fit in spite of her grandfather. What he didn’t seem to understand was Siena would rather be dead than give herself to him.

“You see now,” Antonio said. “We are leopards. Passion runs deep. Tempers as well. We love well and often with our mate, but the fighting, that is something we cannot always help. Your leopard is close, Siena. She will come to you soon and you will need a man. Paolo wants to be that man, and I want that for you.”

When she simply stared at him, her grandfather shook his head. “It will be Paolo or Alonzo. I need someone strong, Siena. You will need protection. Our business must survive my passing, and without a strong hand at the helm, it will be consumed by our enemies.”

She stood up on unsteady legs, avoiding Paolo’s hot gaze. She could feel it. The demand. The fury building in him that she continued to deny him what he wanted, and in front of her grandfather. Just movement alone took her breath and sent waves of pain crashing through her, hardening her resolve.

“Nonno, you have two choices here. You can hand over everything you own to Paolo or Alonzo and disinherit me. I’m fine with that. I have my money from my parents and Nonna.”

“You are my beloved granddaughter, my only flesh and blood,” Antonio protested. “I leave everything to family. To my blood. You will marry and have children. That is what you will do, Siena. Our bloodline is strong.”

“Then choose another for me to marry, Nonno. Or let me choose. I will never, under any circumstances, accept Paolo or Alonzo.” She looked at Paolo for the first time, her eyes meeting his. She saw the fury there and didn’t care. She shivered, knowing she was riling him all over again. She also knew without a shadow of a doubt that at some time he would do his best to retaliate—hurt her again for this night.

“Never,” she hissed. “You knew,” she added, looking at Paolo with contempt. “You knew what was driving me and still you beat me. And you called me a whore and a slut. As did you, Nonno. You knew there would be no controlling what happened this night and still you said those awful things.”

“My leopard reacted—” Paolo started.