Blood Always

2

Rising to my feet, I closed the gap between us and straddled his lap. Thank God I’d gone for the strapless jumper instead of a dress that morning. I wanted to make a statement, not offer myself on a silver platter. I moved excruciatingly slow, holding his gaze captive as I threaded my fingers through his thick hair and lowered myself inch by inch onto his muscled thighs. “Never doubt me or my abilities to do whatever is necessary,” I purred inches from his ear. I sat back, unflinching, when his warm hands gripped my waist. If he only knew how repulsive I found him, he’d realize just how convincingly I could play the part. As it was, there was a smoky heat in his green gaze that made me wonder if he was buying into the act himself—if he thought something might evolve between us. Not a chance. “What if you and I disagree on what is necessary?” “Don’t you think I know what it takes to look like a woman in love?” His grip on my waist tightened, and the air around us shifted like a switch had been flipped. As if we were in a sauna and water had been thrown on the blazing rocks to billow hot steam in the air. “Perhaps we should test that.” His hand whipped up to clasp the back of my neck and force my lips forward, crashing against his. I was frozen. Stunned. His fingers nearly circled all the way around my neck like a collar. My lips started to function before my brain, pressing against his. Testing. Before I knew it, my tongue swept out and tasted the mint residue on his lips. The delicious coolness made my stomach twist with a gnawing hunger. The sensation was enough to snap me back to reality as air from his lungs filled my own. What is wrong with me? Hatred bubbled and oozed from deep inside me. At him. At myself. Flinging myself up and over the back of the chair, I wrapped an arm around his throat and squeezed. For a second, I felt the rewarding contractions of his throat battling against my arm like a mouse in the coils of a python. But it didn’t take him long to adjust to the circumstances and fling himself and the chair crashing backward. My grip loosened enough to give him precious air, but I refused to lose my hold on him—it was by far my best strategy against him. I ended up squatting behind where he lay in the upended chair, my arm still around his neck but at a much less advantageous angle. De Luca did a shoulder roll backward, using his brute strength to break free of my grasp. On our knees, just inches apart, both heaving for breath, we glared at one another. “Don’t ever touch me again without my consent.” I spoke softly, underlining the severity of my threat. “You gave your consent the minute you ground yourself against my cock.” “That was a demonstration—not an invitation—and you knew it.” He studied me with growing curiosity, as though I was a new species of animal rather than his future wife. “If your gut reaction is to kill me rather than kiss me, this whole thing will never work.” He rose to his feet, wiping off invisible dust. “Today was supposed to be about introductions and getting to know one another, but I believe the meet and greet is over.” I ran my hand over my hair, attempting to coax my waves back into place as tendrils of doubt nipped at my conscience like pesky minnows. “Are you backing out of the arrangement?” “No, simply calling an end to round one.” Interesting. Most men would have labelled me crazy and walked the other way. Part of me would have rejoiced that I’d won, but a larger part of me would have recognized how severely I had let my father down. He casually checked his watch and continued. “You are not my only commitment this morning. I’ll take your word that you can hold up your end of the bargain. There’s plenty of time for us to figure out the finer details of our relationship. However, there are a couple important issues we need to resolve before you go. I spend most of my days at an estate in the Hamptons owned by my boss. I’ll need you to live there with me.” “It’s not just owned by your boss—he lives there as well, correct? You want me to live in a house with Angelo Sartori?” He was known as the most ruthless mafia boss in modern decades. A shade less than deranged. Not exactly who I’d want to share coffee with in the mornings. The one thing I’d give him was that he never even attempted to hide his crazy. Most people tried to cover that s**t up with a thick layer of concealer and a fake tan. Men like the Gallo capo Stefano Mariano and my Uncle Sal. Those were men you needed to fear. Men who kissed babies and gave to charity to disguise their rotten souls. “Yes, but he’s become rather reclusive. I doubt you’ll even see him.” “Why exactly do you live there?” Most men, especially powerful men, preferred the sanctity of their own homes. “Logistically, it was easier. Plus, the view is unmatched.” He was unruffled by my challenge. I wondered what it would take to stir an emotional response from the impassive man. Even my attack had hardly roused a feather in his perfectly coifed headdress. It had taken me years to get my own raw emotions under control, but De Luca seemed to be naturally composed. I held his stoic gaze for several heartbeats as I weighed my options. “One misstep by your boss, and I’m gone. I won’t live with a madman.” “It’s not an issue.” “Fine. Do you have a date for the ceremony?” “I don’t, but your father and I discussed holding an Independence Day barbeque at the estate. If you have no objections, we could use the event to announce our engagement and go from there.” Less than two weeks. Once we made an official announcement, there would be no going back. For a second, my vision swam. I’d forgotten to breathe. I wasn’t sure why discussing dates affected me. It wasn’t like I’d planned to marry and was giving up some lifelong dream of settling down with Prince Charming. So why was my heart suddenly rioting in my chest? The marriage changed nothing. Repeating the mantra, I took in a steadying breath. “Fine. Is there anything else?” There was no need to discuss a prenup—a mafia marriage of this caliber would be for life. Everything else could be sorted out later. The need to leave clawed at me like a feral cat. “I think we should at least exchange numbers,” he suggested, as he rose and pulled his phone from his breast pocket. I listed off the digits to my cell and turned toward the door. “Maria, you’re forgetting one more thing.” I glanced back, cursing my treacherous stomach for reacting to his voice. De Luca closed the distance between us, taking my left hand in his. “Don’t hit me,” he muttered.