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Had he thought her icy? The woman in his bed was as far from cold as a woman could be. He could swear he felt the heat coming off her in waves when her lips curved in a smile that was pure feminine invitation.
“Amara. What are you doing?”
The smile moved to a pout, which was even more enticing than the seductive smile. “I wanted some time with you. Alone.”
This wasn’t the right way. A woman like Amara was meant to be courted, properly pursued before asking for her hand. Giorgio Vitali would slit Emilio’s throat without even blinking if he touched her now.
But she was like a siren, calling a sailor to his death. He crossed the room to stand beside the bed, reaching out to brush her hair from her face. “What are you doing, Amara?” he repeated softly.
Moving with that inherent grace he’d always admired, she pushed to her knees and lifted her arms to wrap them around his neck. The cool blue of her eyes had warmed to beautiful pools of cerulean, and he was so lost in them he almost missed the light glinting off the item she held in her hand.
He managed to grab her wrist before the needle sank into his neck. It clattered to the floor beside him, and for a moment they stared at each other, both seemingly shocked by what had just happened.
“What the fuck is going on?” he demanded, yanking on her wrist so she fell forward against his chest.
Her intention flashed in her eyes a moment before she wrenched her arm free and dove for the needle. Luckily, he was faster and stronger, and he wrapped an arm around her waist before she could reach it.
“Bastardo!Let me go!” Twisting at what he would have considered an impossible angle if he hadn’t seen it himself, she nearly managed to jerk out of his grasp. But at the last minute he flipped her onto her stomach, trapping her legs against the bed with his and pinning her hands behind her back. Even as effectively stuck as she was, she continued to fight like a wildcat.
“Calm down!” Emilio growled in her ear, using a tone that usually commanded obedience from even the most stubborn woman in his care.
But not Amara. “Get your filthy fucking hands off me, Rinaldi.”
Fury turned his vision red at the edges. “Need I remind you, you’re the one who came tomybed, and tried to stabmein the neck with a needle?” Tightening his grip on her hands, he pressed her further into the bed. “What’s in the syringe, Amara?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. What is it? Who sent you?”
It was the last question that had her going still as a statue beneath him. “Nobody sent me. I swear it.”
Instinct told him she was lying, but he couldn’t think straight through the cloud of rage in his mind. Keeping her hands pinned in one of his own, he worked his thin dress belt free from his pants. Once he had the stiff leather wrapped around his hand, leaving only a short tail hanging free, he shifted to the side for a better angle. “Tell me, Amara. What’s in the needle? Who sent you?”
“Nobody sent me. Let me go!”
The desperation in her voice did little to sway him. He raised his arm and brought the short strip of leather down across her silk-clad bottom three quick times in succession. To her credit, she didn’t scream, barely even grunted at what he knew had to be a fierce burn. “Tell me, Amara.”
“Fuck you.”
Another three, lower this time, catching the fullest part of her ass. When the sixth stroke landed, he was rewarded with a hiss of air escaping her clenched teeth. “Tell me.”
“Never,” she spat at him.
If it had been any other scenario than one where she’d just tried to stab him, he might have appreciated her resolve. As it was, he was going to get the truth from her, one way or another. This time when he whipped her, he gave her a full six, making sure to land three of them across the tops of her thighs. At which point he finally managed to rip a short, high scream from her.
The sound was immensely satisfying, but he wasn’t done. “Tell me, Amara, and I will stop.”
Beneath his hand, her back rose and fell with each shaky breath. “It-it was just to put you to sleep.”
“Sleep?” Frowning down at her, he tapped the belt against her backside, a reminder that he wasn’t fucking around. “Why would you want me to sleep?”
“I-I was going to rob you. It’s just a-a-a kind of game.”
“A game? What the fuck are you talking about, Amara?”
“I get bored, you know? Uncle Gio never lets me do anything, so I have to make my own fun. I’m sorry, please let me go.”
Her explanation, while odd, sounded sincere enough. Some of the rage faded, allowing him to think a little more clearly.
