“What are you doing?” It came out harsh and demanding from the giant American man as I pushed back from the table.
I raised an eyebrow. “I’m going on the game drive.”
“I recommend that you don’t.”
“Why’s that?”
He shot me a condescending look. “You want to witness a kill?”
“I thought this was a safari. No hunting.”
His face was blank, but damn... those eyes. “I meant one animal killing another. There might be blood.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. If he only knew. “I’ll be fine.”
He straightened to his full height and his face darkened, eerie and beautiful. “It could be dangerous.”
Oh, God. Those words cut right into me, heating my body. “Maybe I like a little danger.”
I followed Giovanni through the lodge to the game vehicle, leaving Nathan in stunned silence.
Besides the money and my concern about the consequences of refusing the Abramos’ offer, this was my final reason for taking the job. The darkest part of melikedthe thrill of danger.
When I reached the open-air vehicle, Giovanni said something over his shoulder. He must have thought I was Nathan, for his eyes widened in surprise when he noticed me.
And then his lips pulled back into a smile.
Giovanni Abramo was wealthy and privileged, and I assumed he’d never had to work a day in his thirty years oflife. Everything about him screamed spoiled and entitled.
My Italian employer was pleasantly attractive. He had a mop of black, curly hair that he constantly pushed back to keep out of his dark eyes. He could just cut it, but he seemed to like the action that had become habit.
A shadow fell on me.
Once again, I hadn’t heard Nathan’s arrival. Pleasantly attractive wasn’t a label I’d use for that man. Unconventionally handsome? Yes. Rugged? Sure. Strikingly intense? Oh, yeah.
Giovanni climbed into the modified Land Cruiser that had no roof, windows, or workable doors. He held out his hand, offering to help me in. It was completely unnecessary because there was a handhold right beside his outstretched hand, but I accepted it, not wanting to be rude.
His hand was soft and off-putting. He probably got bi-weekly manicures. I wasn’t into it. I would rather a man had rough, strong hands with calloused palms and dry skin. I liked someone who worked hard and knew how to handle himself.
Giovanni was definitely not that kind of man.
The Land Cruiser had two rows of tiered seating for optimal game viewing. I sat behind Phillip, who was seated at the steering wheel on the right side of the vehicle, ready to serve as our guide. A large rifle was clipped to the dash, easily in reach of almost anyone, including me. Giovanni sat in the same row as I did, but on the left side of the bench.
He’d yet to make a move on me, and maybe he wouldn’t. Perhaps he had a girlfriend or two back in Rome who kept him satisfied. But I’d occasionally catch a glance from him that leered, and it made my stomach turn.
It was kind of sad. I should be flattered that an attractive man was interested, and I hadn’t been with anyone in a long time. I’d been going through quite a dry spell recently. My gaze drifted to the tall man who stood beside the vehicle.
Nathan had confirmed what I knew from the minute I’d stepped foot in Vitale Abramo’s ostentatious home office.Criminals. I’d hoped they were only the white-collar kind and hadn’t seen much to make me suspect otherwise. And holy hell, the money was good and steady. The Abramos traveled a lot.
But just a few more flights and I’d be facing a scary decision. Where would I go next? Back to flying a regional route in Spain? And would the Abramos let me go? They were clearly used to getting what they wanted.
Did Nathan have any room to judge me? He admitted he was used to working for criminals. Why did he care if I did, too? Why did I care what he thought of me?
The vehicle rocked slightly when Nathan climbed in and sat behind me, and I could feel the tension rolling off him. He had a brief conversation with Giovanni, and I couldn’t help but listen as the Italian tumbled out of his American mouth.
It sounded delicious. The rise and fall of the words were like waves on a sea, and it was impossible to ignore. I wanted to know what he was saying. I wanted to know why he spoke Italian so well. Why he was working for Giovanni.
I wanted . . .
