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“Graciella? Why does she need to come?” asked Xavier.
Boss chuckled as he walked up the winding staircase. “Funny, I know she’d say the same thing about you. Your sister’s not a little girl, Xavier. She can handle herself.”
He did
n’t wait to hear more complaints.
Boss headed to his bedroom, stripped down, and stepped into his custom walk-in shower. He turned on the rainfall head and stood beneath the cooling water.
He thought of Graciella, her gorgeous body under him on the bed. She was fucking perfect. Luscious curves, evil eyes, and the scars inside and out only attracted him more. She was complicated and lethal. He’d often had female assassins work for him. They were employees, nothing more. Graciella was something else.
The door to his bathroom burst open. Boss leaned over and grabbed a towel, wrapping it securely around his waist.
“What the fuck?”
He had two of his hitmen downstairs. How did anyone manage to get upstairs?
Graciella stood there in the middle of the large room wearing all black leather, her dark hair brushed smooth as glass over her back and shoulders. Her hands were perched on her hips as she stared directly at him.
“Did you kill my men?”
She tilted her head, eyes narrowed. “They didn’t try to stop me.”
“What’s the problem here?” He stepped out of the shower and grabbed a hand towel to pat dry his face.
“You’re the problem,” she snapped. “Who do you think you are, anyway? You think you can toy with me because you’re the killer of kings?”
He ignored her ranting, walking to the wall of counters. Boss ran both hands through his damp hair, looking at her through the reflection in the mirror.
“I’m talking to you!” She stormed over to him, her heels clicking on the marble. “You didn’t think I should be involved in killing the scientist? I’m the one he screwed over. I’m the one who’s had to live with this on my conscience.”
Her emotion and vitriol were palpable. He loved her like this. So much fucking passion.
Boss grabbed his shaving cream container and began to spread some foam under his chin. “Are you done?”
“Bastard!” She had a blade tight to his throat the next second. “You thought you could fly off in the night and I’d be none the wiser?”
“Don’t start something unless you plan to follow through,” he warned.
“Do you know how many men I’ve killed for less?”
Boss hadn’t moved, the sharp edge of the blade nicking his skin. “Do you realize how many women I’ve turned down since that night in the restaurant?”
She scoffed. “I don’t care about your whores. What does that have to do with anything?”
In a few quick moves, he knocked the blade from her hand, the metal tinking into the sink, then twisted her body around so she was trapped between the counter and his much larger frame. “Because I can’t get you off my mind.”
“You’ll get over it.”
She wriggled, but he forced her to stay in place.
“You feel nothing at all? Are you really that cold, Graciella?” he asked. “You still haven’t answered me—why didn’t you kill me?”
“I should have.” She glared daggers at him then tried to knee him in the crotch. He blocked her move, securing her wrists. She twirled and ducked, freeing herself, then she kicked him in the side. He groaned and ground his teeth together.
Restraining himself was becoming increasingly difficult.
****
