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He grins, eyes gleaming. "You wouldn't leave your cute little hostage vulnerable for the Gattos, so I take it you're staying the night here? That's a bit presumptuous, don't you think?"
"Not as presumptuous as you lingering."
With that, I return to the temptress's den.
Chapter 9
Sybil
I've never been a fan of crying. That was Angela's way of dealing with things, not mine. When we were learning to ride bikes as kids, whenever we fell, she would cry until my mom put Band-Aids all over her hands and knees. I would get right back on and try again.
My point? I hate wallowing, yet here I am.
I suppose crying for the last half an hour has been helpful in two ways, though. Firstly, it's helped me process things a little. I've come to terms with the fact that I'm essentially being held against my will by the intoxicating monster of a man whom I unintentionally screwed over four years ago. I've even come to terms with the fact that I was very nearly sold to heaven knows where and devil knows who and that if it wasn't for Nico's unfortunate rescue, I might've been in a worse situation right now.
And secondly, crying has given me time to kick myself for behaving like a sex-starved trollop.
When I'm not in Nico's presence like right now, it's easy to look at things from a purely logical perspective and scold myself for losing control around him. Just because he's insanely attractive doesn't meanIhave to be so attracted to him. Just because he's the epitome of a dangerous, sinfully sexy bad boy doesn't mean I can just jump his bones like that.
And without protection? What the hell was I thinking? I'm the girl who lectured Krista about it for six months straight when she first became interested in boys. I'm the one-night stand that the hookups I meet in bars moan and bitch about—because I'm not on the pill, but I always carry rubbers with me, so they'll have no excuses. I'm the freakingqueenof protection.
Now here I am, gettingwaytoo turned on by Nico's insane baby making proposal.
I groan into my pillow and roll over, pulling the covers up to my chin in the darkness. I don't know what hour it is. It's autumn, and the sun has been going down early, so when Pascal and his goon took me earlier, it wasn't that late despite the dark sky. Now, it's probably past midnight.
I'm supposed to work tomorrow, but I definitely won't be there. Which is pretty shitty, considering how strict my manager is. He's fired people for a lot less than missing a shift. I groan again at that thought. I don't love my job, but I need it. My family needs it. Our financial situation is dismal.
One million, then.
I scoff into the darkness. Who does he think he is, offering a cool million like that? He has to be lying.
No. Nico Attolini is a lot of things, but I don't have any proof he's ever lied to me. Even when we first met, he was unflinchingly honest about the truth of his life and family.
I tense at the sound of the living room door shutting. Then the bedroom door—which I discovered earlier has no lock—opens quietly. I don't even look over in the darkness because Nico has a presence the same way everyone else has a shadow, and I can sense that he's near me immediately. I try and fail to ignore the way my heart picks up speed so easily.
"There's this thing calledknocking," I whisper. My voice is embarrassingly hoarse from crying.
He says nothing. For a moment, I wonder if he's standing there with his arms folded, waiting for me to roll over like a good little puppy to see what the alpha dog wants. But then I hear a soft creak, and I tense when the bed dips slightly. Now my heart is slamming, and I try to drown out the noise by speaking.
"What are you doing?" I demand.
He's still quiet. I wonder if his body is reacting to our proximity the way mine is. If only there wasn't this magnetism between us. If I could just ignore him completely—
"Going to sleep," he mutters. "My second favorite convenience of a bed."
Damn it, body. Stop.That simple insinuation in his low voice shouldn't be affecting me like this.
"Sleep somewhere else," I huff. "Just go away."
He makes no move to get up from his side of the bed. Finally, I risk a peek over my shoulder, half afraid I'll see his stunning eyes through the dimness, as consuming and intense as they were earlier. Instead, he's looking straight up at the ceiling. He looks almost thoughtful, but there is a weariness to him that makes me pause. I'm sure most people don't see mafiosos when they're unguarded, and the toll on their lives is plain as day.
But no. I remind myself that I don't feel sorry for Nico. I don't feel anything but anger for him, and right now, he's being an asshole by just crawling into bed with me.
"Earth to The Undertaker. I said get out."
"My men are too busy to stand guard tonight. Unless you want the Gattos to pick up where they left off, on the small chance that they find you, I'm staying."
I scowl. "I can't believe you have the gall to pretend you're protecting me."
