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NowI’m going to fucking kill her. Before I can move, Rose speaks. “You think I’m like my father? Maybe get your facts right. My mom was in witness protection, and he found us, killed my uncle, took me. I was abused, sold to a terrible man, and…and Nikolai saved me. He helped me get out, and when they all died, I inherited what was left. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“And yet here you are, making him come to Italy.”
Rose scowls. “We’re getting married. I think you should leave before our host has you removed.”
“Is that a threat, Rose?” Adelaide asks.
Rose lifts her chin. “I don’t make threats. Only promises.”
The intent of her words isn’t lost, and it’s time to break up this fucking party.
Adelaide’s gaze hits me as I move into the space. “Your fiancée threatened me—”
“Not from where I was standing.” I slide my knuckles down Rose’s spine, seeking the heat of her. “You’re out of your jurisdiction, agent, and I don’t remember sending an invite.”
“Come on, a big mafia man hosts a party for her. I’ve seen how Gianni Belucci looks at her; you don’t think they’re up to something?”
I stare at her. “You blackmailed, I delivered. Lots of men look at Rose, whether I like it or fucking not, and half the east coast has business with Belucci. We happen to be on the same boards in Queenstown.” I drop my voice, and I can almost feel the preen from Rose. “And he doesn’t like uninvited guests who wrangle invites under false pretenses.”
Adelaide smooths a hand over her flattened hair. She’s in an all-black outfit, an FBI version of evening wear—tailored pants and a silk top that pales in comparison to Rose.
“I don’t think you can trust her,” she says.
“Me?” I smile and hook a finger in the ties at Rose’s back; because I canandbecause it stops Rose launching herself at Adelaide. “I’m marrying her. I trust her.”
“She’s the worst kind of mafia.”
I tighten that hold, and Rose makes a small sound as I keep her in place. Adelaide means Derek. She’d probably mean me, if she knew half of what I do. I’m thinking she knows a quarter, hence her eagerness to use and manipulate me. Which, I’ve let happen to guarantee Rush’s safety and freedom, and for my own ends.
“If,” I say, in my most dangerous voice, “you’re trying to get me onside and to turn against Rose, you’re a fucking fool. I’ll do a lot of things, but turn on Rose? Never. Now, get the fuck out before security gets here. Belucci knows you’re here and isn’t pleased.”
“I’ll be in touch, Wilder,” she spits before she turns on her heel and hurries out.
“Now that,” Rose mutters when we’re alone again, “was a threat.”
I release her and spin her around, but she sucks in a breath and takes a step back. I close the gap as I take the lethal hat pin from her. “That wasn’t smart.”
“Then why are you smiling?” She raises her chin.
I back her up and twist a fallen lock of her hair up, sliding the pin in. “Because I’m a sick fuck who’s turned on by your poisoned claws, Rose.”
Because we’re alone, because I don’t give a fuck in this moment who walks in, and because I absolutely fucking need to, I grip her chin and kiss her.
It’s slow and dreamy, an exploration of sensuality and the secret places of her hot mouth. She’s soft and wet, just like her fine cunt, and I could kiss and touch and please this woman forever.
She’s sweet sin, innocence, the dark and the light. She’s made for me. As much as I fight it, deny it, try to find all the reasons that make real sense to send her away, she’s mine, and she’s where she belongs.
She tastes like the dark parts of heaven.
Our tongues dance as the kiss deepens, and she gives as good as she gets; no, she gives better. She gives me everything in her kisses. She’s open and there and ready, hungry and wild and carnal.
We hit the wall, and I start to suck and kiss on that spot on her neck that I know she loves, and she’s shivering and moaning, rocking against me.
For some reason, it’s even hotter with us still in our masks, our faces partly concealed. I push a hand between us, thankful for the way her dress gives me constant access, and I’m so fucking caught up in her that when I slide my hand into her panties and hit silicone and not flesh, I jerk.
I forgot. I fucking forgot I’ve got her primed for my personal pleasure and her personal torture. I pull out the dildo and shove it in my pocket, and we don’t need words as I free myself. Her hand’s there too, touching me like she’ll die without the contact.
Rose pushes her hips forward, her arms sliding about my neck. I lift her up, wrapping her long legs around my waist, and slam her down on me. She’s so wet, open from the toy, and I slide in with an ease that usually only comes when she’s beyond lubricated. She’s still tight, still divine, but there’s a wild thrill at the slight ease of entry.
