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“I won't ever hurt you, Emilia. You are not in danger from me. I promise you.” I momentarily forget to breathe as his breath ghosts across my face, making my body hum. A wave of his protectiveness seems to flow over me, putting me slightly at ease. I nod a little, not even realizing I am at first, as his fingers run down my jawline, skimming my face, his eyes looking at me intensely.
I am not sure what is happening other than my heart is pounding out of my chest and those butterflies dancing in my stomach have multiplied. Whether it is from stress or an entirely new feeling, I have no idea, but I have never had a man say something like that to me before. Feeling safe is foreign to me, and I will admit, it’s a slight turn on.
“You have passed the test, bambolina. There is another box, many in fact. It’s time to take you to the compound,” he whispers to me, and for the first time since I first met him, he smiles.
A small, but genuine smile.
9
NICO
Isit in the car, with her positioning herself as far away from me as possible, looking everywhere but at me. She wasn’t keen to come with me. In fact, she bolted up from the floor so fast, her coffee nearly spilt all over her carpet. But with the rest of her father’s boxes locked away at the compound, it was a hell of a lot easier to take her to them instead of bringing them to her.
I only took one box over with me this morning, along with the laptop as a test to see what she is made of, and she didn’t disappoint. I have thought about who would be supporting her father internationally, but who he knows remains a mystery, having not found any evidence linking him to anyone. He has covered his tracks extremely well. Given it took her less than a day to come to the same conclusion, it reinforces that I made the right choice in getting her to help us.
If only I could stop touching her. This is business, and I need to focus. The fact her blonde tresses and shimmering blue eyes continue to float around in my subconscious is not helping. Not to mention, her rose scent that wraps around me the instant I’m in her presence.
I glance over at her again to see her face firmly planted at the window, watching the world blur past as Tony drives us from her office to the compound. Her arms are crossed across her chest, but it’s not in the willful way I’ve become familiar with. It’s like she’s protecting herself; she is cautious of me, and I am not sure how I feel about that.
We don’t hurt women ever, and I tried to make it clear to her that she was not in danger. I love women, especially having grown up close to both my mother and sister, so hurting a woman in any way is something I could never do. While I am okay with people being afraid of me, like all us mafia men encourage, I don’t want Emilia to be. My gut churned when she flinched away from me back in her office.
I don’t want her to feel fear around me. Ever.
The car gets dark as we enter our basement car park, piquing her interest.
“Where are we?” Emilia demands, and I try not to chuckle because she has yet to learn that no one demands anything from me. My eyes flick down to her hands that have now moved and are white knuckled on the leather seats, her head whipping around to see out the other windows, trying to decipher our surroundings. She is a strong woman, but I can see the doubt in her face about what she’s gotten herself into. Without thinking, I extend my hand and wrap it over hers on the seat in between us. I don’t hold anyone’s hand, but around her, my body seems to do things all on its own.
I hear her gasp, and she looks at me. Our gazes lock, but she doesn’t move her hand away and neither do I. For a brief moment, I wonder what the fuck I am doing, but her hand curls around and she grips mine tight, I don’t hesitate. I squeeze hers in return to help settle her nerves, telling myself it is because I need her focused and settled in order for her to do good work. But my actions have caught me off guard, and I don’t entirely know if that is true.
“My home. My office. We call it the compound. All your father’s files are here,” I state, clearing my throat as the car comes to a stop, then removing my hand from hers. Opening the car door, I step out into the garage and lean in to offer her my hand—only because my mother raised a gentleman. I watch her face as she hesitates for a moment before she steps out and takes mine in a death grip. I can’t help but smirk and, if I am honest, I don’t actually mind having her hand in mine. The two couldn’t look any more different; mine large, tanned, and scared, with tattoos, and many stories to tell, hers small, delicate, and soft. So fucking soft.
“Oh my God, I’m in your web,” I hear her say quietly, seemingly in awe as she eyes the men working down here and the various cars and trucks that are parked throughout the garage.
“I’m sorry?” I question, wanting to ensure I heard her correctly.
“Oh… nothing.” She flashes me a fake smile, and I growl. I need her to be honest with me if this business relationship is going to work. We’ll have to work on that.
She stands beside me, near the car, but I don’t let go of her hand, choosing to keep her close as I see her eyes flick around the space. I notice her blonde hair again, as it dazzles under the overhead lights, but I grit my teeth, realizing we have lots to hide down here.
“Let’s go,” I say sharply, her head whipping around as her eyes now meet mine. I pull her along, getting to the side of the garage and in through the door and out of sight of anyone else. We make our way through the maze of corridors inside, with me quickening our pace.
I now know this place like the back of my hand, due to the fact I was forced to run around these hallways in pitch black as part of my training when I first moved to New York. I can find any room with my eyes closed, including those on the other levels. But I am aware Emilia would get lost easily, would become very disoriented, with the way the hallways are decorated, making it look like we are heading in circles and offering no clear pattern or directive of where we might be. Her grip on my hand remains tense, as her steps struggle to keep up with me from behind. But I keep moving forward without pause; she doesn't need to see any more than is necessary, no need for her to see anything at all, really. Not yet. Once she completes this project, then who knows, maybe I will keep her on permanently after that. I mean, she is not going to have her business much longer, so she will need another job soon enough anyway.
I stop in front of a glossy black door, putting my handprint to the screen on the wall to the side. The new, fail-safe security system is something we put in after Annie and Little Leo were attacked over a year ago. I hear her breath hitch at the action and see her eyes widen as she looks at the screen. My palm lights up green, and as soon as the door opens, I push her inside before closing the door behind me.
She turns to face me immediately.
“I don’t belong here,” she states breathily, sounding nervous. But nevertheless, her hands find her hips, feigning confidence as she straightens her back and inhales deeply. I brush a hand over my mouth to hide the chuckle that threatens to break through.
“Come, bambolina. Let’s just look at the files and see what we can find.” I walk past her and into the apartment, expecting her to follow me. But she does not. What a surprise.
I get to the living room before I turn around, finding her arms now crossed across her chest, pushing her perfect breasts up higher. I admire the view for a second or two, as does my dick.
“I suggest you get your pretty little ass in here. You work for me now, and we have work to do.” I watch her internal debate, like she has a choice. I’ve observed her this past week, seen how she operates, and what makes her perform best is always when I push her. She gets fiery, competitive almost, needing to prove something, and I can’t say I mind frustrating her. It is fast becoming one of my favorite pastimes.
“I need to leave, Nico. I really don’t belong here,” she states more firmly this time, still not budging. Her shoulders are stiff, and I can practically see her second thoughts swirling around in her mind.
“If you want to leave, then you’ll need to put yourself to work before you do. Let’s go.” There’s an edge to my tone, but I stay where I am, crooking my finger to motion her closer.
