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While I’d offered nothing but certain levels of protection when and if we had business in his country, he’d seemed satisfied. Although with any lion as head of state, there were always reasons to maintain concern.
Somehow, he’d learned of my father’s thoughts on using the country as a base for invading Colombia. That had been five years ago, the thought put on hold. However, the rich bastard had no idea of my father’s current plans.
There was no reason for me to think about the connection other than the nagging feeling that remained surging in the back of my mind. Perhaps Giada knew more about her father’s business than originally believed. It would be interesting to find out.
I moved up the stairs, taking them two at a time. When I entered the room, an immediate rush of adrenaline fell over me, an edge that I’d been trained to pay attention to. She was no longer in bed. Anger encapsulated my mind, fury that she’d disobeyed me again. I’d spanked her long and hard, the action meant to keep her safe. A flutter from the deck dragged my attention away.
Exhaling, I glanced at the bed, a dark chuckle erupting from my throat. After heading toward the French doors, I stood just inside the room, taking a few seconds to bask in her regal glory. She’d had no understanding of her power over me the day I’d met her, the tether I’d felt from the minute I’d found her sitting all by herself in front of the fountain.
She’d wrapped the sheet around her lithe body, the material flowing in the breeze as she stood with her hands wrapped around the railing, staring out at the slender moon. As soon as I took a step onto the deck, she sensed my presence, tensing as she tilted her head toward me. I took my time opening the wine and pouring two glasses, unable to take my eyes off her.
The quiet that passed between us was entirely different than before. We’d shifted to another level, our desire even stronger, yet there was something more I couldn’t put my finger on. I moved closer to her, holding the glass in front of her.
Giada took a few seconds before glancing at what I was holding, accepting the offer then smiling,
“What are you smiling at?”
“You’re waiting on me,” she said softly.
“You really do believe I’m a monster.”
“No more so than my brothers. There was a spark in you that I saw that day so long ago.”
“A spark, huh? What does that mean?”
“You asked if I remembered that day. How could I forget it? Guests following the commotion, screaming as they stared down at the reality of my world. So many dead bodies, their blood staining my dress. The stench remained with me for days. After that, there’d been nothing but fury, soldiers sweeping the estate, my father dragging me into the house, demanding that my sister and I stay in our rooms. One of the kitchen employees even brought us dinner that night. No birthday cake, the presents unopened for days. No, I could never forget that day because it was a needed reminder of why I’d never be able to live a normal life.”
She seemed wistful, speaking to no one in particular, but needing to shove the memory aside. I remained quiet, fascinated at her perspective.
“My sister and I shared a bathroom, so we were able to be together for the longest eighteen hours of my life. By the time my parents allowed us out of rooms, another party had been prepared, but only family allowed. My brothers, my father, everyone acted as if nothing had happened. The soldiers had been replaced by others, the house employees joyous as they’d been trained to be. Everything seemed different in the house to me, although maybe I was just in a fog. What I do remember was the four-tier birthday cake in chocolate that my mother had fawned over. It had been brought inside, whatever weather we’d had on the day you were there allowing the tiers to sag, icing to run, but it was my mother’s choice. I was forced to pretend like I didn’t know what had happened, eating stale birthday cake just to make everyone happy.”
I moved closer, sliding hair away from her face. She offered a slight smile, but I could tell the memory troubled her more than she wanted to let on. “I’m sorry, Giada. I truly am. I had no idea what my father had planned. He kept me in the dark like your father had.”
“Why be sorry? You already made certain I was reminded that I shouldn’t expect any less given I’m a mafia princess.”
The hint of contempt in her voice was understandable. “Yeah, well, sometimes I can be rash.”
“Rash? You wanted me to suffer just like your sister did. Maybe a part of me can’t blame you, the other part wishing my family had been normal. No one told me what had happened that day, at least not officially. Even my brothers acted like it was business as usual. I wasn’t a fool. By then I understood that in order to keep the peace, deals were often made between rival organizations. I just didn’t know I’d been made the prize. The only good thing about that birthday or to be honest with you any of the others was when I met you.”
“And the gift?”
She turned her head sharply, studying me in the shaded light of the moon. It was easy to tell she was searching for something, clarification on why she’d been given such a gift.
“I still have it. It was also my favorite present that year, although for years my father forbade me to wear it. I’d never understood why he’d called it ‘a gift from the devil’ until recently.” Her words almost died off.
“I wish I could tell you otherwise, Giada, but I would be lying to you. I had no idea what was in the bag. But I can tell you that your eyes lit up, your lips forming the sweetest smile. You made it impossible for me to hate you.”
“It just came easier later.”
Sighing, I leaned over the railing, listening to the steady roll of the ocean waters. “Nothing is easy in this life. The anger festered over the years, perhaps more at my father than toward your family. I couldn’t understand why he didn’t finish what he’d started with killing those soldiers. He just told me it was enough to hold the wolves at bay.” I wanted to trust her. I needed her to trust me, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen no matter how intense our passion or how much I required her to obey.
Was I beginning to question my judgment about my mistreatment of her? Enough so I longed to be an entirely different man tonight. For her as well as myself.
“An interesting term.”
“My father is an interesting man,” I mused.
“So is mine, although I certainly can’t call him loving.”
