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“Yet you insist I remain here. While you … you … swim laps, dine out, fuck your way through a bordello of women.”
The devil smirks.
God, why does he have to be this gorgeous? His wet hair curling against high cheekbones, the unruly mess making him appear boyish. The pronounced bend from his broken nose, a reminder he’s anything but a boy. His blue eyes sparkling with challenge.
“I won’t be your plaything.”
“Too late. You already are.”
My heart skips a beat. “Against my will.”
Something within his expression sets off alarm bells. He thrives on the chase, on dominating me, on making me submit. I edge forward on my seat, ready to run.
“Do it. I dare you.”
The room sparks with energy. It’s still there, isn’t it? After everything that’s happened, after everything I’ve learned, the itch to play along with his twisted game grows. Seconds pass, yet my indecision speaks volumes.
His grin widens.
Get up and run. That’s all I have to do.
I straighten, preparing to do just that. Then, out of nowhere, I hiccup limoncello—the devil’s nectar.
His smile disappears.
“Excuse me,” I mumble.
“Jesus Christ.”
“The lemony flavor is deceptive. I drank too much.”
“No shit.” He sighs. “Stand up.”
I do so without argument.
He removes my top, then helps me into his suit jacket. “Go sleep it off. You’ll eat breakfast with me in the morning, and we’ll take things from there.”
Of all people, why him? He’s a killer, mafioso. Authoritative and frightening. Seductive and thoroughly corrupted.
And he just gently wrapped his suit around my body.
“Riley.” He’s about to say more, then doesn’t.
And I don’t wait around for him to change his mind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“Buongiorno, Riley.” Mama Biello greets me the next morning as I enter the kitchen and take a seat beside Sandro. He doesn’t so much as glance up from his phone.
“Hai dormito bene?”
“Sì, Mama Biello.” I don’t understand her but, never wanting to disappoint, have been answering ‘yes’ to everything she says.
“Ama troppo le donne.”
“Sì, Mama Biello.”
Sandro grunts.
