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“I work mostly in Eastern Europe and South America. Occasionally in the Middle East.”
“What was your last assignment? You know, before me.”
The scar on his face twisted as he frowned. “You know I don’t talk about my clients.”
“I’m not asking who hired you. I’m asking about who you killed.”
“A politician in Minsk.”
“Do you know why?”
“No.”
My eyebrows shot up. He said it so calmly, so matter of fact. Like just another day at the office. I’d done terrible things for my father, for our brotherhood, but I always knew why. “And that doesn’t bother you? Not knowing why?”
“If they tell me why, then I start to rationalize whether the person deserves to die or not. That is not my job.”
I took my eyes off the risotto briefly to glare at him. “So you don’t want to know why you’ve been hired to kill me?”
“What makes you think I don’t know?”
The wooden spoon fell out of my hand and into the risotto. “Do you?”
He took a long drink, his throat working as he swallowed. Then he carefully set the wine glass on the island. “I don’t want to have this conversation.”
Fuck the risotto. I turned off the gas burner and propped my hands on the island. Met his stare. “Alessio, we need to talk about how this is going to work.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t be a dick. You know what I mean. This, here. Us fucking.”
He tapped his fingertips on the island while he regarded me thoughtfully. “Can we call a temporary truce?”
“For how long?”
“A month.”
The answer came quickly, as if he’d been considering this in his head. A month with him sounded nice after my many fantastic orgasms today. But it was a long time with a man hired to kill me. “Why a month?”
“I don’t think a week—or even two weeks—is long enough for all the filthy things I want to do to you.”
My dick liked that reason very much. “What happens at the end of thirty days?”
“I give you a head start, then come after you to carry out my assignment.”
“Dai, Alessio. You expect me to keep fucking you, knowing this is what awaits?”
He shrugged, like this was no big deal. “You could disappear somewhere I can’t find you. Or you could kill me first.”
“Do you honestly believe either of those things are possible?”
“No.”
Dio santo, this man. “I’ll agree on one condition.”
“Oh, we are negotiating?” He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. An annoying smirk spread over his face. “Let’s hear what you think a month of fucking me is worth—and it can’t be for me to drop the hit.”
I knew he wouldn’t consider it, which is why I was asking for something different. “Help me figure out who planted that car bomb.”
