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“No, I’ll dance with someone else.”
My gaze narrows. “Really? In case I haven’t made it clear, you touch another man and he’s dead.”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re a sociopath?” she questions.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re annoying?”
“Yes,” she replies. “You?”
“Yes,” I say in agreement to her earlier question.
Finally, she smiles. “I guess one dance wouldn’t hurt. On one condition.”
“Nothing’s ever simple with you,tesoro,” I say on a sigh. “What is it?”
“There’s something I’m curious about. And you have to answer me honestly.”
I rub my jaw for a minute. Knowing her, the question will probably veer far into the realm of discomfort for me. But after the high tensions of the day, I feel obliged to at least let her win once.
“Come on,tesoro.” I beckon, gesturing for her to take my arm. She nods once as I lead her to the dance floor, right when the song switches to something slow.
My arms curl around her back, tugging her against me. A smile graces her lips as she leans forward, intertwining her hands around my neck. We’re impossibly close, her scent is intoxicating, and what’s even more maddening is the feel of her in my arms. We begin to sway softly. I can feel several pairs of eyes on us—waiting, watching, curious.
“What do you want to ask, Evans?”
She blinks up at me. In six-inch heels, she barely comes up to my chin, but she’s still taller than most women standing in front of me. It feels perfect.
“Oh, uh…” she bites her bottom lip. “You remember when you told me that you’d always be honest with me? The bodyguard situation today aside.”
I roll my eyes. “I never told you there wouldn’t be anyone following you. But yes, I remember promising to be honest. What do you want to know?”
“Your business. What does it entail, exactly?”
I smirk. “Having second thoughts?”
“I just want to know what I’m getting myself into,” she mutters.
“It’s the mafia,tesoro. What we do isn’t legal, not by any stretch of the imagination.”
“Of course, I know that. But what exactly is it?”
I begin listing the nefarious activities. “We’re in the drug business, firearms acquisition, smuggling, gambling, the occasional kidnap.”
“Murder,” she continues on a harsh breath. “Trafficking?”
That one’s a question, and I can see in her eyes that it’s something she wouldn’t be comfortable with.
“We don’t traffic people, Daniella. My father outlawed that. Anything to do with the sale of the human body—for example, prostitution—isn’t something we engage in.”
She nods. “Okay, I guess I can live with that.”
I smirk, leaning away to twirl her around once before pulling her closer. “It’s not like you have a choice.”
She had one and she turned it down. Now, nothing on this earth is keeping her away from me.
Her gaze flicks over to two women standing next to the dessert table. Unease darkens her eyes and the sight of it unsettles me.
“What it is?” I ask her.
