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I was already shivering on exiting the steamy shower, but the temperature throughout the cabin seems to have dropped by the time I step into the living room dressed in nothing but the towel wrapped around me. Luca hardly glances my way. A definite change from the erection he was sporting before I retreated to the bathroom.
The sight should’ve scared me, but all it did was turn my insides to lava, especially considering the way his eyes crawled over my body. The magma has cooled thanks to the icy glance he shoots my way once he notices me. “You need to go to bed,” he announces, cold and dismissive.
Why is my immediate reaction one of excitement? The briefest sizzle of heat ripples over my bare skin, and I hate myself for it. This is the man who kidnapped me. Not the man I should want, ever. “Excuse me?” I whisper.
“What part of that was so difficult to understand?” All of the desire that was practically pulsing in the air earlier is gone. I may as well have imagined it. Now, there’s nothing but seething hatred. “Bed. I have a lot on my mind, and you shouldn’t push me right now.”
It’s not so much his warning that tightens my chest until it’s difficult to breathe. It’s the sight of his fists loosening and tightening rhythmically at his sides. He’s losing it, and I can’t stop it from happening.
He must be in trouble for bringing me here. He mentioned something about his brother wanting to talk to me, didn’t he? Dante. He’ll be pissed. Is that who was on the phone?
I fold my arms over my chest, and my teeth chatter when a rush of air passes over me. That’s not for show, either. The cabin is cold and drafty, even with a fire burning, but my fear is what’s chilled me. “Are you coming with me? Is that what this is about?”
“Stop talking.” He wraps a hand around my elbow and drags me to the bedroom, ignoring my pained cry as my leg protests. “I brought your bag in. Put some clothes on and be grateful. That’s what I’m ordering you to do, Detective.”
I feel control slipping through my fingers. It was an illusion, really. The idea of having power. “You’re scaring me.” Because why not? I need to reach the part of him that likes hearing that. Besides, it’s true.
He is unmoved. If anything, his scowl turns into a snarl. “Stop telling me things I already know, Detective. Now move your pretty ass, put on some clothes, and get into bed. Don’t make me tie you down,” he threatens, and I know it isn’t empty. I have no doubt he would follow through just to watch me squirm.
As promised, my bag sits at the foot of a queen-size bed with a metal frame and what looks to be cheap, thin pillows stacked at the head. “I guess I shouldn’t bother asking how you knew where to find a bag to pack me up,” I murmur, recalling how familiar he was with my apartment.
He doesn’t say anything, too busy filling the room with his resentment.
“You could have killed me whenever you wanted to,” I remind him in a soft voice. I wish I could say the little tremble in my voice is faked, something to boost his ego and get him excited, but that would be a lie. I’m only human, and this man has clearly stalked me for days. I was at his mercy and didn’t know it.
When I finish locating pajamas and underwear, I look up from the small pile of clothes and straight into his cold, hard eyes. He’s got that disconnected look, the same one he wore back at the apartment moments after he took that man’s life.
The hair rises on the back of my neck, and goose bumps pebble my arms and legs. At least I can use that to my advantage, shivering a little, rubbing my arms, and doing everything I can to appear vulnerable. My leg is screaming from hip to knee, and I can barely stand to look at it when I purposely drop my towel. I hate to do this, but it’s the only way to get him to come back around. I pretend to examine the ugly purple skin while Luca stares at me. Please, come back around.
Without even looking at him, the heat from his gaze sears my skin. He can’t come up with ways to hurt me when he’s busy planning to fuck me. I can handle him better that way.
As it stands now? This is Luca Santoro at his most unpredictable.
And deadly.
“It could’ve been worse,” he remarks with a grunt that sounds close to an accusation as he watches me gently touch the edges of the bruise. “And you still haven’t thanked me.”
The reminder only confuses me. “I still don’t understand why,” I counter. “Why did you stop me? We wouldn’t be going through any of this if you hadn’t.”
I look up to find his eyes glued to my breasts, and I wish I could say the desire burning in his dark eyes didn’t turn me on a little. When he catches me watching him, his gaze hardens along with the rest of his face. He’s fighting what he wants most, and it’s pissing him off. “I’m not in the business of explaining myself to anybody, including you, Detective,” he growls out. “Now, put some fucking clothes on before I make you wish you had.”
Rather than continue to bang my head against the wall, I dress as quickly as possible, considering I’m basically balanced on one leg most of the time. He doesn’t offer to help. In fact, he releases a derisive snort when I suck in a pained breath and stumble a little. “Remember…” he taunts, “… none of this would be happening if you hadn’t—”
“Tried to do my job?” Dammit, I need to be better at controlling myself, but there are limits to anybody’s endurance. The fact that he has the nerve to lecture me makes me want to scream as it is.
“Is that what you call it?”
“What else would I call it?” I ask in a much more straightforward, less accusatory way. I widen my eyes, innocent and confused. “I was doing my job.”
“The way I was doing mine,” he insists with a growl that turns my blood cold.
We have very different ideas about that, but I’m not about to start an argument. “You think it’s easy for me?” I ask, sitting on the bed, letting my hair hang in front of my face while I stare down at my clasped hands. Is he going to buy this? Do I have a choice but to try?
His derisive snort doesn’t inspire confidence. “My sympathies don’t lie with you, Detective.”
“Right,” I whisper, nodding. “You kept me alive for this. So you could make me regret trying to infiltrate your club.”
“See? You do get the idea eventually. I thought you never would.”
