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I knew they were opening that damn curtain.
But there is nothey.
There’s only him. One person. And given the air of authority that surrounds him, I’m confident he doesn’t need backup.
If I thought this little room was small before, I know better now. It becomes a nook instead of a room as this man’s entire presence fills every inch. His hulking frame looms in front of me. So tall he hides every filament of light behind him. Black-brown hair cut shorter on the sides and longer on top. A scruffy beard covers a strong jaw and sturdy chin. I watch as a flare of recognition lights his eyes—he knows me?—but just as quickly, the look disappears and I wonder if I’ve imagined it, as his dark eyebrows slant in a frown.
I quickly glance at his clothes. Nice, well-made, probably custom work. But it isn’t the cut of his pants or the way his white polo reveals cut, bulging biceps and shoulders too large to fit in here comfortably that catch my attention. It isn’t the faint fragrance of cologne that makes me want to sniff his neck and moan, or the commanding air of authority. No.
It’s those…eyes.I’ve never seen eyes so blue. They remind me of the blueness of the hot springs in Tuscany, deep cerulean eyes almost too pretty for a man. Almost. The stern, ruthless cruelty embedded in those eyes erases anything that even smacks of femininity. No. He’s all male, every inch of him, and my body doesn’t miss the memo.
I swallow, finding it hard to breathe. I’m glad I’m sitting down. He catches me in that gaze. I lose the ability to speak. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
His eyes flick from me to the palmistry chart and the book in my hand. I hope it’s obvious I’m an employee, prepared to read some palms, not a mafia princess hiding from her bodyguard and nearly sitting on the head of the nameless woman I’m protecting, the very same one he’s looking for.
I finally find my voice.
“Why, hello there,” I say pleasantly, leveling the full wattage of my powers of flirtation at him. “Are you my two o’clock?” I’m stunned at how nonchalant I sound, but Marialena Rossi’s been here a time or two. You don’t have tobenonchalant. You just need to fake it. Thankfully he can’t hear the frantic beating of my heart or feel the dampness of my palms.
He glances at his watch. “It’s three twenty,” he says suspiciously. “And I’m never late.”
Fuck.
I smile and I really,reallyhope it’s the dazzling one.
“Oh, right. I get so lost in my head sometimes I don’t pay attention to the time. Timeisso capricious, isn’t it? My three thirty, then?”
I pretend like I’m going to rise from my chair and offer the other for him to sit on. Maybe if I’m casual about getting up off this chair he won’t even suspect I’m hiding a fullhumanbeneath these floorboards.
“No.” He shakes his head. “I’m looking for a woman.”
I settle back on the chair and give him a coy smile. “Are you, then? Just any woman, or do you have a type in mind?” I wave my hand suggestively as if to say,yoohoo, woman here.
His eyes narrow dangerously. Calculating.Heated. I stifle a gasp as an erotic pulse of need shoots between my legs when his look grows stern.
Mamma mia.
Why, why,whyis it always the bad ones that spark my fire?Why?
When the corner of his lips quirks up, showing a flash of white, I know he isn’t amused. It’s the look of a predator baring his teeth.
“Looking for a blonde who came in here. Smallish woman.”
Play along.Play along.I imagine my heart races in time with hers. Is there enough air under there? Oh, God, what if she’s suffocating? But no, if that’s a storage room…
My voice thankfully doesn’t wobble. “Oh, the one with a little pixie cut?”
“Yes. Have you seen her?”
The best way to lie to someone is to give them a few threads of truth.
“Yes, we were admiring the amethyst before I came in here. Just a brief conversation.” I sigh as if sad, as if I wish I could give him better news, and try to ignore the rapid beating of my heart. Was he watching us? Did he see her talking to me? Does he know she’s beneath this floor, hidden? “But I’m so sorry, I didn’t see where she went.”
Without a word, he turns to leave. Maybe he bought it, then.
Please, go. Go, go, go!
Against every good sense that I have, I continue to play my part. “Leaving so soon, sir? I’m happy to give you a reading.”
