“That’s amazing.”
“Thank you.” After a beat, he asked, “Are you here to confess your sins?”
She smiled. How could she not? Luciano Santini was the supreme puppet master. Everyone was living in his world… a world he’d created by amassing power.
“No, something else.”
As she stared into his bright eyes, the need to kiss him overtook her. It came on like a lightning strike. Sudden, powerful, and intentional. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Her gaze jumped from his eyes to his mouth, those luscious lips tugging her toward him by an invisible force she couldn’t resist.
STOP!
She pushed off the stool, walked around the expansive slab of quartz, and breathed.
Get it together.
“I have a problem,” she began. “Well, not a problem exactly. More like a situation.” She hated when she rambled, but this was unchartered territory. She’d never worked with an assassin, but she was certain she didn’t want to get on his bad side.
That wouldn’t end well for her. She also knew the definition of loyalty, and she coveted that.
“Talk to me,” he murmured.
She wasn’t sure if it was the rasp in his voice or the way his attention stayed glued on her, but she found herself sitting down beside him. His enigmatic presence made her feel safe… and alive, like she was super-charged with electricity.
“We’re working together, and that means something to me. I value partnerships in the workplace.”
He nodded. “Same.”
“Okay, good.” She took a mouthful of whiskey, swallowed it down. “I don’t know you well, but I have to trustsomeone. I need to feel confident you’ll have my back, especially if things go sideways. The Bomb Maker isn’t like any other criminal, so I’m going into this with eyes wide open.”
She broke eye contact, glanced outside.
“Simone. What do you want to tell me?”
She swiveled toward him, her gaze drilling into his. After shuddering in a breath, she released it in a sigh.
Then, silence.
LUCIANO
Simone was struggling.Luciano wanted to help, but he didn’t want to rush her. The fact that she’d come to him spoke volumes. He knew she’d gone to Hirzog’s for dinner. Carrera had seen to that.
As he stared into her eyes, he found himself hoping she would tell him the truth. Then, maybe, he could let his guard down. Distrusting everyone he met, until they proved themselves, was a tiresome way to live. Tiresome, but necessary. If he put trust in the wrong person, he was a dead man.
Luciano offered an encouraging smile. That helped, but not in the way he’d intended. Her pupils expanded, the black bleeding over the green, then she slickened her lower lip with her tongue. He loved how responsive she was to him. It was alluring as hell, but also distracting. He meant to calm her, not rile her. She was his partner now, not his lover.
She can be both.
No, she can’t.
Normally the epitome of control, he had to touch her. His fingers tingled to stroke her soft skin. He swiveled toward her, scooped her hands in his, and her fingers braided around his. Touching each other felt natural… and unprofessional. Still, he didn’t tug his away. Just the opposite. He gave her an encouraging squeeze.
“Several years ago, I worked for Peter Hirzog at the Bureau,” she began. “We’d lost touch, but we ran into each other last week.”
“I remember,” he said.
“He invited me to his home last night for a dinner party. Turns out, he had an ulterior motive for asking me.”
“What did he want?”
