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The hinges of my office door squealed, and I turned around to find Emilia peering through the ajar door. Her hair was messy, her silk nightgown barely reaching mid-thigh. As always, she made my dick instantly hard with just a look. Made me forget about everything that wasn’t her.
My gaze dropped to the thin scab decorating her sternum, and hard became painful. I didn’t enjoy her emotional pain, and I hated her fear, but I loved that she allowed me to help her. That she needed me. I liked pushing her over the fine line of pain and pleasure and watching her fall apart for me.
I would be her outlet, her solace, her therapy. I would shield her from everything and everyone but me. “Come here, piccola.”
She padded across the room to me. “Why are you still awake?”
I gripped the back of her neck and pulled her close. “I’m just catching up on some work.”
“You look like you’re brooding.”
She took my free hand in hers, brushing her fingers over my split knuckles. The Outfit fucker had taken a good deal of my anger, even if he hadn’t told us shit. Her gaze lifted to mine, brows pinched together.
“It wasn’t Luca,” I said before she could ask.
“I didn’t think it was.”
“Lie. You know I would hurt him if I were in a room with him.”
“You promised—”
“Which is why I haven’t been in a room with him.” I stroked her cheek with my free hand. “Why are you up, amore mio?”
“I had a nightmare.”
“Want to talk about it?”
She shook her head, and I could guess what it was about. Her father. The guilt always seemed to chase her into sleep. She’d been bad for the last few nights, and I told myself that was why I hadn’t told her about Romano being in the city. Really I just hated to panic her or cause her distress. The man was her boogeyman, but he would never get near her. She didn’t need to know, but his being here niggled in the back of my mind.
“Can you shoot, princess?” I knew she had the basics because she’d shot Phillipe when she escaped my penthouse.
Her brows pinched even more. “Yeah. Renzo taught me when I was fourteen.”
“Good.” I stepped away from her and went to my desk, opening the drawer and taking out the nine millimeter I kept there. “I want you to have this.” I handed her the gun, and she eyed it before wrapping her fingers around the hilt. “It’s just a precaution, but I want you to carry it with you at all times. Anyone tries to harm you or take you, you shoot first and ask questions later.”
“You want to give me a gun?” She lifted a brow. “You do remember I once stabbed you, right?”
I huffed a laugh. “You’re not quite so volatile these days.”
“You don’t think so?”
I gripped her jaw, brushing my lips over hers. “Would you stab me now, piccola?” I nipped her lip. “Would you try to kill me?”
“No,” she breathed.
“And why is that, piccola?”
Her hand landed on my chest, those sweet lips so close I could breathe her in, taste her on my tongue. “Because I love you.”
My dick twitched. I loved hearing her say those words. So innocent, so trusting.
My fingers wound around her throat before I turned her around, yanking her back to my chest. She gasped, and I forced her head to the side, kissing up the smooth length of her neck.
“I fucking love you, piccola.” My free hand dropped to her thigh, inching up the silk of her nightgown. “Now bend over this desk and spread your legs.”
23
EMILIA
Gio held my hand as he led me down the hallway.
“I don’t like surprises,” I said. I was tired and crabby this morning, but it was hard not to get caught up in his child-like excitement.
“We’ve already ascertained that you’ve never actually had a surprise. And seeing as your last one was postponed…”
“Renzo did once let a frog loose in my room and called it a surprise.” I was ten, and he’d caught it for me; then, when he brought it into my room and opened his hand to show me, it had jumped right out. I hadn’t slept properly for days, thinking it would crawl into my mouth in my sleep. “So, yeah, I don’t like surprises.”
Gio laughed. “Well, I promise this isn’t a frog.”
He pushed open a door, and a draft of cool air washed over me as I stared down a flight of concrete stairs. “Is this another creepy basement?”
Without responding, he tugged me forward, down the steps, and into a garage. Several fast-looking cars filled the space, but he walked past all of them, stopping beside a dark-purple Range Rover. He then took my hand and dropped a set of keys onto my palm.
