“Why would I?”
“Because . . . I don’t know. You didn’t want me to see this? If I would have walked in on my father doing anything like this, he would have tanned my hide.”
“Shielding someone you care about from harm is one thing.” He braces his hand on the doorframe and bends until our faces are at the same level. There are blood stains on his left cheek, as well. “Shielding them from reality is a completely different thing. Because, in our world, it could lead to death.”
I nod, my eyes wandering to one of the corpses. “Who are they?”
“Cosa Nostra. They came to Catania to find out what happened to the drugs they tried to smuggle through my port.”
“Did you have to kill them?”
“What would Bratva do if they found members of a rival organization dealing on their turf?”
Exactly the same thing. My eyes find Rafael’s again. “Is any of that blood yours?”
“Would it bother you if it was?”
“Maybe.” My voice is barely a whisper, as if I find that realization hard to process.
The corner of Rafael’s lips curls upward. Slowly, his bloody fingers pinch my chin, tilting my head up. “None of it is mine, Vasilisa.”
His mouth seizes mine in an instant. There is no softness in his kiss. Just ferocious claiming. I manage to gulp a breath as I grab a handful of his shirt for support and kiss him back. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t fight his spellbinding pull. I bite his lower lip, sucking it into my mouth. He growls, and his tongue invades me, too.
The fabric under my touch is wet and sticky, but I can’t make myself care. My mind is drifting, unable to process anything but the taste of him. His scent. His heat. The only skin-to-skin contact is our lips, but my entire body is buzzing like a live wire. No other man has ever made me feel like this.
When he finally releases my mouth, the air moves through my lungs in short, fast bursts. As if my respiratory organs suddenly remembered how to work. I stare into Rafael’s hard green eyes. They glow with unhidden desire while he towers over me, so big and sinister-looking, with smears of blood and dead bodies as a backdrop. As if he’s the dark ruler of hell.
“Your pretty lips taste like the pure essence of sin.” He brushes his thumb over my mouth. “I wonder if your pussy will be just as scrumptious when I devour it.”
A tremor runs down my spine, vehement from the tone of his voice, shaking me all the way to my core. It doesn’t sound like a question, but a promise. One I would gladly see him fulfill.
Turning around, I dash up the stairs. Running away from Rafael De Santi and the treacherous feelings he stokes within me.
Chapter 13
“Signor De Santi asked me to pass you a message, miss,” one of the maids says from the terrace threshold. “He’s waiting for you in his car. You’re to bring the laptop with you.”
“You can tell Signor De Santi to kindly go fuck himself,” I toss over my shoulder and look back at the horizon.
Jerkwad. It’s been hours since I found Rafael’s latest “present,” and I still haven’t been able to calm down.
I barely slept last night, too shaken by Rafael’s kisses and the messed-up feelings they evoked. Thrill and enjoyment, right along with contempt for myself because I liked the experience. I don’t go around letting random men kiss me senseless. Especially not men who keep me captive! I tossed and turned for hours, trying to eradicate the mental images of Rafael doing much more to me than merely kissing.
And then, when I woke up, even more confused than I was the night before, I found another velvet box.
I didn’t even need to see the gift to know that he’d been in the bedroom while I was sleeping. I could detect the traces of him drifting in the air. It’s not that his scent is strong, but it seems my nostrils are attuned to it, capable of noticing even the faintest whiffs.
A beautiful rope chain bracelet was lying in the box, the three braided strands of gold and embedded diamonds gleamed in the morning light. Next to the jewelry box was a lavish crystal vase overflowing with several stems of white orchids. Underneath was a check with my name on it, in the amount of three million dollars. One for each kiss we shared. I don’t remember the last time I felt so miserable and used, like some kind of whore. I kissed that jackass because I like him. Like him way more than I’m willing to admit. And he left me a goddamned check!
“Did you get my message, Vasilisa?”
An inappropriate but pleasant shiver rushes through me just from the timbre of his voice. I grit my teeth and keep my eyes focused on a distant spot before me. “Yup. I sent one back, but the maid was probably too afraid to relay it to you.”
Heavy footfalls sound behind me, getting closer. I can feel each thump reverberating in my chest while every nerve impulse hums inside my body. Rafael comes to a stop right in front of me, blocking my view of the deep blue sea.
“And you saw the present I left you?” he asks.
I squint my eyes at him, taking in his huge form looming over me. He’s wearing khaki dress pants and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the black ink covering his forearms. The first few buttons on the shirt are undone, and I can see fragments of another tattoo on his chest.
“I did,” I say as calmly as I can. “I tore up the check and flushed the pieces down the toilet.”
“The flowers, as well?”
“Nope. Those are in the trashcan in the kitchen. Didn’t want to clog up the sewer lines. Too big. And you can find the bracelet in your tie drawer.”
Rafael cocks his head to the side, staring at me intently. Dark aviator sunglasses hide his eyes, making it difficult to decipher his exact expression, but I don’t miss the way his jaw hardens.
“I have the details for that container I need you to reroute. Modify the freight shipping forms so it ends up in the Port of Shanghai.”
“The container was not a part of our deal. Feel free to play with your fricking steel box yourself.”
“You work for me. That means you’ll do whatever I need.” He removes his sunglasses and pins me with his gaze. “We’re operating from another location today. You have five minutes to get the laptop and haul your ass to the car.”
“And what if I don’t?”
“I don’t think you want to play that game with me.” He puts his glasses back on and strides away. “Five minutes.”
I squeeze my hands into fists with all my might and wait until the sound of his footsteps fades, then head upstairs to get the damn computer.
As I run out of the mansion five minutes later, Rafael is standing by the SUV, holding the passenger door ajar, as if he never had a doubt that I was coming. I guess, if you hold the power of life or death at your fingertips, and the lives of someone’s family hang in the balance, you’d expect that someone to dance to your tune. Damn him.
I throw the laptop onto the back seat, then press my temple to the passenger-side window, creating as much distance between us as possible.
The tension inside the vehicle could be cut with a knife. We drive in utter silence for a better part of an hour, winding our way on mostly deserted narrow roads flanked by olive groves and vast farm fields. Slowly, a few country homes pop up among the ever-present hills and valleys of the beautiful rural landscape. Rafael turns onto a lane that runs along the coast, descending into a quaint village. I slide down my window, gawking at little old houses squeezed right next to each other. The balconies facing the street are laden with a multitude of colorful flowers, some cascading over the railings and nearly to the ground below. The scent in the air is alluring. Near the doorways of a lot of houses, elderly women—sometimes alone, sometimes in groups—sit on either rickety chairs or ancient-looking recliners. Enjoying life? Or keeping their eyes on their surroundings?
We’re driving through the crossroads when Rafael hits the brakes so suddenly that the seatbelt almost rearranges my insides. I’m still coming to my senses while Rafael pushes his head through the open window and starts yelling. He’s so loud that I need to press my hands over my ears to prevent me from going deaf. It doesn’t help much.
“Ma che fai, stronzo?!” Rafael roars, waving his hand at the pickup truck that’s stopped in the middle of the intersection, blocking our way. “Vaffanculo! Sei cieco? Madonna santa!”
The driver of the other vehicle has also stuck his head out and is yelling back, while the man beside me keeps serving up what I’m sure are profanities. My gaze slides back to Rafael, taking him in with awe. He looks nothing like the cold-blooded killer I witnessed last night. Now, he’s acting just like a regular guy. Well . . . a very angry regular guy, one aggravated by a traffic fuckup. It’s . . . beyond cute. And sexy as hell.
“Coglione! Mangia merda e morte, porca puttana!” he snarls as he hits the wheel with his palm, then steps on the gas and surges through the intersection, barely missing the truck.
“Testa di cazzo,” he mumbles shaking his head, then looks at me. “Tutto bene?”
I gape at him, then burst out laughing. “I have no idea what you said in the last five minutes, but it sounded painful.”
