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No one would hear me if I screamed. I tuck the heavy metal key into my bra, a reminder that I have a place to hide if I need to, safe from everyone but him.
What if I need to run from him?
“Stay right there. Do not move.” This time, I don’t dare to disobey. He opens his suit coat, slides a gun out of a holster, and cocks it. My heartbeat races while he sweeps his room, checking even the closets, the shower, and the ledge outside his window before he comes back to me.
With a sigh, he stalks over to a side table, grabs a hefty bottle, and sloshes a few fingers of whiskey into a glass.
I don’t ask for any. Not sure I want another drink. Something tells me I want to be fully aware for what happens next.
I watch him and don’t try to pretend I’m not raking him over from head to toe. If he’s going to be my husband, I reason I have an excuse.
Moonlight from outside illuminates his features. Cold blue-gray eyes and high cheekbones, his full lips pressed together in anger.
He turns away from me and stares out the window to the ocean lapping on the shore.
“Romeo,” I finally say, not liking the brooding silence between us. He doesn’t turn to look at me but tips his head back and finishes the drink, then pours himself another. He’s the most powerful man I’ve ever met in person. But now, for this one brief sliver of time, he looks… weary.
I make my way to an overstuffed chair and sink into it. It’s soft and luxurious, and I could fall asleep right here. I kick off those stupid shoes, nearly sighing in relief when my feet sink into the cushy carpet. After a moment of watching him, I need to close the distance between us. I rise and walk to him wordlessly on bare feet. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. Just stares out the window at the ocean below the window and occasionally takes another sip.
Without my heels, I only come to his shoulders. My whole body fits within his, as if he’s been drawn around me. Gently, I lift my fingers to his shoulders. I don’t know why. I’ve never touched a man like this before, and I’m not sure why I feel the need with him now. His shoulders tense beneath my fingers, the taut muscles making my own muscles ache in sympathy. Gently, I begin to knead. I can’t reach as high as I’d like, but I do well enough. He sighs, and the slightest bit of tension eases from his shoulders.
He takes another sip.
“Your father?”
He nods. His voice is resigned when he talks to me, the tone husky. “Yeah. Thought Tavi was tracking him. Tavi assigned Santo to the job. Santo’s car was attacked, he drove off the road.” I gasp. “He’s fine. Car’s fucking totaled. Papa knew I was having him tagged, and he blew it off.”
I nod. “Is he that unpredictable?”
He shakes his head. “Babe, you have no idea.”
I don’t speak for long minutes, just continue massaging his shoulders, then his back, until his body begins to sag under my touch.
“You’ll find him. He hasn’t gone far.”
“How do you know that?”
“The man’s name means narcissist. He’s the Don. Here, he gets all the attention he wants. Of course he’ll be back.”
He seems to be processing this, for he doesn’t respond at first, but finally turns to face me.
“Thank you.”
I don’t ask him for what. I only nod and swallow, because the predatory look in his eyes scares me. His eyes darken when he brings the glass to my lips.
“Sip, bella. I want to watch you swallow.”
Holding his gaze, I obey. I part my lips, and he tips the glass up to them. The whiskey’s warm and potent, burning my nostrils and tongue, but the sweet undertones make my tastebuds sing. It’s delicious but powerful, like a liquid spell. His eyes on my throat make my pulse quicken. He watches, mesmerized.
His hoarse whisper fractures the silence. “What dress did I tell you to wear tonight, Vittoria?”
Shit. I almost forgot about that. I lift my chin and stare at him defiantly.
I begin to tremble as I remember his earlier admonition.
If you come downstairs tonight in anything but what I ask for, I’ll punish you.
I hold his gaze so he doesn’t think I’m wimping out. I don’t want him to know he terrifies me.
“You said to wear the blue one, but I didn’t like the blue one.”
It’s a lie. I love the blue one.
His eyes glow as if lit with a savage flame. “Did I ask you if you liked it?”
Every word feels like the flick of a whip. I flinch as if struck. I shake my head from side to side. “Well, no, but I…”
