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I sat across from him.
“Wine?” Richard opened a bottle of red. On the label was a brand I recognized. Barsetti Vineyards.
“Thanks for trying to make me feel at home,” I said sarcastically. “And yes. I’ll take a full glass.”
Richard poured it before setting the bottle on the table. “I’ll grab the dishes.” He walked into the kitchen, leaving us alone together.
Whether Richard was there or not, Bones stared at me the exact same way. He stared like there was nothing he wanted more than to strangle me—and fuck me. His broad shoulder blocked the chair behind him completely, and his tattoos peeked from underneath his shirt to his neck. His fingers were wrapped around his glass, and he brought it to his mouth to take a drink.
I expected him to make a smartass comment or two, but it never happened. He continued to stare, like I was a TV screen or a piece of artwork that he could watch for hours. Direct eye contact didn’t make him the least bit uncomfortable.
It didn’t make me uncomfortable either. He failed to intimidate me, so I held his gaze and enjoyed my wine.
If you stripped away the crime and the blood war, he was so beautiful that he was hard to look at. He could walk into any bar and have the attention of every single woman in the room. Not only was he a powerhouse, but he had unbelievably handsome features. Those blue eyes were hard not to stare at.
It was a shame he chose this life. So much failed potential.
“What are you thinking?” He set his glass down, and his hand continued to rest on the hardwood table. His forearms were chiseled just like the rest of his body, the sections of muscle identified by grooves. His veins streaked across, bulging in comparison.
“What are you thinking?” I countered.
“You really want to know what goes on in this sick fucking mind?” The corner of his mouth rose in a smile, amused like always.
“I’ve already experienced the worst of it.”
He took another drink. “Or the best.”
I refused to react, keeping the same stoic features.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his forearm. “I was thinking about how beautiful you look like that…with that jet-black hair and olive skin. You don’t have a drop of makeup on, but your features are still phenomenal. You’re stunning. So fucking stunning that I’m not sure if I can wait until after dinner to fuck you.” He finished the scotch in his glass then set it down with a loud thud. “What were you thinking, baby?”
“Stop calling me that.”
“I can call you whatever I want. Now answer the question.”
His answer wasn’t as sick as he forecasted, and I was annoyed with myself for actually appreciating his response. “I was thinking it’s a shame you’ve decided to live your life this way.”
“In what way?” he countered. “I live in a mansion—and I own several more of them. I have a butler. I’m rich. I have—”
“Wealth isn’t everything. It’ll never buy you happiness.” I lived a life of luxury, but when I reflected on the happiest moments of my life, they had nothing to do with money. They were times when I was surrounded by friends and family, enjoying the Tuscan sun with a bottle of wine and a good cheese.
He cocked his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t interrupt me again.”
I wanted to fire back with something rude, but my gut told me to listen to him.
“I’m not ashamed of what I do for a living. I didn’t have the resources you did. I didn’t go to a private school or have a father to pay for university. My mother was a whore to make sure I had food every night. Is it also a shame that she lived her life that way?”
“I never said that.”
“And now I’m asking.” Without raising his voice, he increased the tension in the room. He turned hostile without a single movement, becoming silently deadly. “Because I’m not ashamed of her. I’m not ashamed of what she did to provide for me. Like any other mother, she did whatever was necessary to make sure I had clothes, shoes, and supplies so the other kids wouldn’t make fun of me.” He leaned over the table, his elbows resting on the wood. “You think less of her?”
It didn’t matter how much he threatened me. I wouldn’t cave. So I answered honestly. “Never.”
His intense gaze remained, his blue eyes burning into mine.
“Never underestimate what a mother will do for her child…” My own mother never told me the horrible truth of her past. She did it to protect me, to make sure I wouldn’t have to carry the grief that now sat in the pit of my stomach. “But I judge you for killing people in alleyways and capturing a young woman for revenge. I judge you for demanding sex in exchange for my freedom.”
