The Rinaldi Bargain

Chapter Three

BLOOD ran thick and dark across the stone floor of the great hall. It pooled fast around overturned furniture and seeped deep into the cracks between ancient rocks.

Bodies lay still and twisted deep already. More fell with every step Silas took through the wreckage. He moved like a blade himself. Fast, sharp and untouched while chaos tore the room apart around him.

Gunfire roared then fell silent one section at a time until only groans and heavy breathing remained.

He wiped the blood from his jaw with the back of one hand and looked down at the last man still standing. The intruder swayed bleeding from half a dozen wounds yet still tried to lift his weapon.

Silas kicked the gun away hard enough to send it sliding across slick stone. He leaned down calm as if discussing the weather while blood soaked his expensive shirt black.

“Is that all you brought?” Silas asked, tone bored and biting sarcastic as ever. “I told people for years, I run a boring life. This hardly rates as a warm up really.”

The man spat blood onto Silas’s boots. “The Council sends their regards. Damon sends more. She will not stay hidden forever.”

“Damon talks too much,” Silas said, dismissive and cold. “You all do.”

One precise motion ended it all.

The body dropped.

Silence fell heavy over the slaughter. Lorenzo stepped forward checking corners and fallen forms his boots squelching softly in red puddles.

He nodded once sharp and grim confirming the threat was gone for now. Silas stood there breathing steady as if he had merely walked up stairs not carved through a dozen trained killers.

He surveyed the c*****e with a faint look of annoyance crossing his face.

“Wonderful,” Silas muttered dry as dust. “Just had these floors polished too. People have absolutely no respect for property these days.”

Lorenzo almost smiled. Almost. “They breached the outer gate fast, sir. Better get cleaned up before she sees.”

Silas glanced toward the stairs Snow had climbed minutes earlier.

His jaw tightened. “She will see soon enough. Best she learns what waits outside these walls. Though I suppose I should try not to look quite so much like a horror story come to life first.”

He shed his ruined coat and wiped his arms clean as best he could before heading upstairs. The blood dried tacky against his skin but his stride stayed sure.

He had made up his mind long before this attack ever came. There would be no separate suites, no distance and no hiding. They were married in the eyes of the church and now, the world.

He kept his wife tucked away safe and distant while he fought wars on her behalf.

Snow stood waiting right inside the hallway when he reached the upper floor. She had not gone all the way to their room. She stood stiff and pale listening to the shouting and shots that had rattled the house minutes ago.

Her eyes went wide the second she saw Silas. Dark stains covered his clothes. He looked every inch the monster people whispered about.

She backed up one step then another until her shoulders hit a solid wooden door frame. “Silas. Is that all blood?”

“Mostly theirs,” he answered like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. “A little bit mine. Barely a scratch. Do not get too impressed.”

“Is anyone… Did anyone...” She stopped. Swallowed hard and forced the words out. “Is it over?”

“For tonight,” he replied, closing the distance between them slow. “Though now we have reached the part where we talk about sleeping arrangements.”

Snow blinked, thrown completely off balance. “We already agreed I have my own rooms.”

“We agreed nothing of the sort,” Silas corrected smoothly, stopping right before her. “And after tonight? Definitely not. Walls are thin. Doors are weak. I sleep where I can watch what is mine.”

“That is ridiculous,” she fired back, cheeks flushing pink with anger and something hotter. “You cannot just decide that.”

“I decided it the moment I put that ring on your finger,” he countered turning the handle beside her and pushing the heavy door open. “And this is the room. Get used to the view.”

Snow stepped inside, eyes scanning the large space. She did not notice these details earlier. Rich dark wood, heavy velvet curtains and a wide bed draped in soft linen that sat near the center like a throne. There was no second bed no sofa anywhere to hide on.

She spun back toward him. “Where exactly are you planning to sleep?”

“Where do you think?” He shut the door and clicked the lock loud and final. “I did not say we get separate rooms, Snow. I said we share.”

“I am not sharing a bed with you,” she stated firm, hands balling at her sides. “We barely know each other.”

“Excellent observation,” he said with sarcasm thick as molasses. “How else do you propose we fix that? Long walks? Poetry readings? I prefer efficiency myself.”

“You are impossible.”

“And you are stubborn,” he shot back heading straight for the adjoining bath. “Stay there. Do not try to lock me out. I pick locks faster than you can turn a key. And for heaven’s sake, relax. I said I would claim you and I will. But not while you look at me like I might eat you whole before breakfast. Unless you ask nicely, of course.”

He vanished inside.

Water ran loud and steady minutes later before stopping. He emerged in loose grey sweatpants and nothing else.

Snow stared then forced her eyes away. The heat was burning hot all the way up her neck. He had scars everywhere. Thin white lines mapped out the battles he fought long before she found him bleeding in the rain.

Hard muscle shifted under faint old marks and fresh bruises alike. He caught her staring and smirked.

“Enjoying the art collection?” He nodded at his own chest, dry and amused. “Most women scream and run. You just stare. I will take it as a compliment.”

“I was checking for injuries,” she lied poorly. “That is all.”

“Sure you were.” He crossed to the large wardrobe, pulling out one of her silk nightgowns sent up earlier.

He softly tossed it straight to her chest which caught her off guard. He spoke way before she could. “Go on then. Change. Unless you prefer I help. I charge terrible rates for dressing assistance.”

She snatched the garment up and stormed past him slamming into the bathroom and shutting the door hard.

When she emerged later wrapped in silk, the tension rose. Silas was already sitting propped against the pillows and leaning back with arms folded behind his head looking entirely too comfortable. He patted the empty space beside him.

“Come on. I do not bite without permission, usually.”

Snow stood as far from the mattress as she could get. “I will sleep in that chair over there.”

“You will fall off in an hour,” he predicted lazily. “Then you will wake up sore and grumpy. Then I will have to listen to your complains all day. Save us both the headache.”

“I am not climbing in there with you, Silas.”

“Fine,” he sighed exaggeratedly. “I will drag you over there. Then I will tuck you in myself. Then I will steal all the blankets. Pick your poison, luv.”

“Should you always respond with sarcasm?” Snow snapped. She was done dealing with Silas’ sarcasm.

“Sorry, luv. Slip of the tongue,” Silas replied with a teasing smirk.

Snow didn’t respond or she’ll receive another sarcasm from the mafia king himself.

She just glared but walked forward to the bed, stiff as a board. She sat right on the very edge as far away as the mattress allowed.

Silas shifted and turned the lamp off, plunging the room into soft shadows lit only by moonlight pouring through high glass.

The air shifted.

The bed dipped when he moved closer. He stopped close enough she felt his heat but not touching. Not yet.

“You really are ridiculous you know,” she muttered into the dark, half angry and half bewildered. “You threaten. You steal. You fight wars in your hallway then you act like this is normal.”

“Normal is boring,” he murmured, voice lower now and still laced with that familiar dry edge. “And besides. If someone comes for you again, they come through me first. Much harder to get past when I am right here.”

Silence stretched a little.

She lay with rigid every nerve alert, waiting for him to do something. He did the exact opposite. He shifted again and draped his arm around her. It was entirely too solid right across her waist.

Snow went stiff as an iceberg instantly.

“Relax,” he grumbled, half muffled into the pillow beside her head. “If I wanted more, you would know. This is just insurance. Stop squirming or I will assume you are asking for trouble.”

“I hate you,” she breathed but she did not shove him away. Not quite.

“Story of my life,” came his dry reply right against her shoulder blade. “Everyone keeps saying that. No one ever leaves though. Funny how that works.”

Things stayed quiet for a long while.

She thought he had fallen asleep until he spoke again, quiet serious for once though the sarcasm lingered close beneath.

“Snow. About what happened downstairs tonight.”

“I saw it,” she said softly into the dark. “I heard enough too.”

“Just so you know,” he rumbled slow and steady. “Those men. The ones sent after us. They would have done far worse than kill you. Far worse. I keep you close because walls fail. Guards fail. The only thing that never quits is me. Even when I am being an unbearable ass.”

That last part hit right and true and made her huff a small surprised laugh she tried to choke back. Silas went still against her back then squeezed her waist once light and quick.

“There it is,” he sounded faintly satisfied. “Finally something other than scowling. Keep that up and I might not regret dragging you up here.”

“You regret nothing,” she countered, turning her head slightly toward the dark shape of him. “I doubt you have ever regretted a single thing in your whole life.”

“Oh, I regret plenty,” he said, dark and honest for a heartbeat before masking it back with humor. “I regret the floor. I regret the late hour. I regret I did not think to bring snacks up here. Now that is a real tragedy.”

She laughed again softer this time and more natural despite everything.

The terrible weight of the bloodshed below still hung heavy over them. Yet somehow, lying here and being held softly against the most dangerous man in Sicily, Snow found herself breathing easier than she had in months.

Silas was chaos wrapped in sarcasm and sharp edges. He had stolen her life. He had built a cage around her. But for tonight, at least no harm would cross that threshold while he lay right there beside her.

Silas felt her relax, just the smallest bit against his arm and something tight inside his own chest loosened for the first time all night. He rested his chin near the curve of her shoulder. Steady, watchful and entirely too determined to keep every last bit of her safe.

The wars would keep coming.

The lies would unravel.

But for this one quiet stolen moment, he held the one thing he would burn the world down to keep.

“Go to sleep, luv,” he whispered rough low and sincere even with that usual bite. “And try not to dream about running away. I will just catch you anyway. I always do.”