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That realization has me spinning. I’m beginning to suspect this girl is no mere mortal, she’s a siren, and I am doomed.
Since I’m already hell-bound, what difference does it make if I perish in the arms of this vixen as she drags me down to the underworld? I might even enjoy my demise.
Temporarily staking my claim on this woman is not going to suffice. I want to own her, all of her, until I’ve had my fill of Sophia Pontrelli.
At that moment, I make the decision to claim her as mine. Really mine. Allmine.
I’m taking her for myself. I’ll see this charade all the way through to its conclusion by marrying her, and binding her to me as completely as possible before man and God. The entire world will know who she belongs to by the time I’m done.
A possessive, animalistic growl rumbles in my chest.
It will be the ultimate insult to Kozlov to see his ex-fiancée as my wife.
Nipping at her bottom lip, I drop my arms to my sides and step back. “We’re going out to dinner tonight. Meet me in the foyer at seven sharp.” My gaze takes in her swollen lips and shallow breaths. She’s fucking gorgeous. “I need to get some more work done.”
With that, I turn away, resisting the urge to glance over my shoulder as I leave the kitchen. Tonight is important. It has to be perfect. I’m going to make her an offer she can’t possibly refuse.
* * *
When work eludes me, I decide to meet up with Baron at the Leonidas Gentleman’s Club where we’re both members. I trudge up the stone steps to a building that embraces ancient Greek architecture.
As I approach the front, my gaze lifts to the words stamped into the stone above the four columns.
Only the sons of lions shall enter.
Reading that phrase never grows old. Every time I walk under those words, my chest inflates with a sense of pride, because behind these doors is an entirely different world. Exclusive, decadent, and private. A world made especially for those who’ve earned their place to dwell in it.
I enter through the massive double doors into a marble foyer. The club’s concierge inclines his head in acknowledgment as I stride past him on my way to the poker den.
My footsteps are softened by the plush red carpeting in the wide hallway. Marble statues occupy lit alcoves, and original artwork hangs in front of the dark wood paneling.
I keep my gaze averted from the paintings, ignoring their presence. The statues I don’t mind, but the artwork I detest.
“De Luca!” Baron waves me over as soon as I enter the den. “I took the liberty of ordering your usual.”
I take the seat opposite of him and glance at the fifty-year-old Macallan, before picking up the glass and taking a sip. “How generous of you. The next round’s on me.”
“No need. I bought the bottle, so enjoy it.” He puffs absently on a cigar, the smoke curling upwards to the high ceiling.
I eye him. “How’s the wicked step-family?”
“The ultimate pain in my ass, as usual.” He sneers into his own glass. “Can you believe my step-monster proposed the idea of wedding her daughter to me?”
“What did you say to that?” I can tell by the dangerous energy hovering around him that he’s more agitated than usual.
“I told her that would be incest.”
I shrug. “You’re not related by blood.”
That earns me a scowl. “You never have been funny De Luca, don’t try to start now.”
“It’s simply an observation. Let me guess, she’s nagging you to marry your step-sister?”
“Nagging is an understatement, she’s practically feral. That woman is worse than a starving mutt with a bone when she sets her mind to a particular outcome. I’d rather chew off my own arm than marry her daughter.”
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.” I swish the Macallan around in my mouth, savoring the smooth honey-peat flavor.
Baron groans. “You know I’ve considered getting rid of her, countless times, and I’d do it except that my father gets in my way every damn time. It’s almost as though he knew how my mind works and thought of every way to keep his wife in control, and alive, long after his death.”
