SLEEPING WITH THE DEVIL

THE RED DRESS

*CHAPTER 5: THE RED DRESS*

*SLEEPING WITH THE DEVIL by Cassidy*

I woke up to the smell of coffee and rain.

And to the sound of a man arguing in Italian on the phone.

I opened my eyes. I was in the huge black bed in Villa Blackwood. Wearing Killian's suit jacket over the short French maid uniform. My hair was messy. My makeup was smeared.

Killian was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, shirtless.

Shirtless.

Six foot three, broad shoulders, back full of muscle, a huge black eagle tattoo covering his entire back, from neck to waist, wings spread. And scars. Three gunshot scars on his back.

He was holding a phone to his ear, speaking fast, angry Italian. "No, Father. I said no to the Sicilian shipment. I don't care about the $20 million. It's a trap by Moretti. Yes, I know you want it, but -"

He turned around and saw I was awake. He stopped talking.

"Ti richiamo," he said and hung up.

He walked towards the bed, not caring that he was shirtless, wearing only black sweatpants low on his hips.

"Good morning, Little Spy. You snore," he said.

"I do not snore!" I sat up, pulling his jacket tighter around me.

"You do. Like a little kitten. It's annoying."

I threw a pillow at him. He caught it easily.

"Signora Russo made coffee. Drink. Then we have work," he said, handing me a black mug from the nightstand.

I took it. It was warm.

"What work?"

"My father is hosting a party tonight. At the villa across the lake. The other Blackwood villa. All the families are coming. Moretti, Rossi, Bianchi. The whole mafia of Northern Italy will be there. Including the man who drove the car that killed Marco. I found him."

My coffee stopped mid-air.

"You found him? Who?"

"His name is Enzo. He works for my father now. He will be at the party tonight as a waiter. He doesn't know you are Marco's sister. This is our chance to make him talk."

"Tonight?"

"Tonight. And you need to be there. As my date. Not my maid."

He went to the walk-in closet and came back with a garment bag. He threw it on the bed.

"Wear this."

I opened the bag.

It was a red dress.

Not just a red dress. A _red_ dress. Long, silk, backless, slit up to the thigh, tight. The kind of dress a woman wears when she wants a man to kill for her.

"I can't wear this! It's... it's too..."

"Too what? Too sexy? Too expensive? It's Valentino. $8,000. It will fit you. I know your size. I guessed from last night."

"You guessed my size by looking at me in a maid uniform? Pervert!"

"Yes. And I was right, wasn't I? Try it on."

I wanted to say no. But this was for Marco. For the chance to find the driver.

"Turn around," I said.

He turned around, facing the window.

I took off his jacket and the maid uniform quickly and slipped into the red dress. It was cold silk on my skin. It fit perfectly. Too perfectly. The slit showed my whole leg up to mid-thigh. The back was completely open down to my waist. The front hugged my chest.

"Okay... okay you can turn around," I whispered.

He turned.

And stopped breathing.

He stared at me. From my bare back, to my legs in the slit, to my face. His jaw tightened.

"f**k," he whispered again, same as last night.

"What? Is it ugly?"

"No. It's... it's going to cause a problem."

"What problem?"

"The problem that every man at that party tonight is going to look at you, and I am going to have to kill every single one of them."

He walked towards me and stopped inches away. He reached out and touched the thin strap on my shoulder, fixing it. His fingers brushed my bare skin and I shivered.

"You look... dangerous in red, Elara Cruz," he whispered.

"You said I looked dangerous in a maid uniform yesterday."

"Yesterday you looked like a dangerous maid. Tonight you look like a dangerous woman who belongs to me."

"I don't belong to you!"

"At the party tonight, you do. For 29 more days, you are mine. Remember? That's the deal. You failed to kill me, so you took off your t-shirt. Now you are mine for 30 days."

He said it lightly, but his eyes were serious.

"So tonight, at the party, you will stay next to me. You will hold my hand. You will smile when I introduce you as my girlfriend. And when you see Enzo, you will signal me. Don't talk to him alone. He's dangerous. More dangerous than Luca."

"And what do I get?"

"You get the truth about your brother. And after that, if you still want to kill me, I will give you a full magazine, not just one bullet."

He reached into his drawer and took out a small black velvet box. He opened it.

Inside was a diamond necklace. Small, simple, but real. It sparkled in the morning light.

"What's that?"

"Every girlfriend of mine wears a necklace to parties. So people know she is mine and don't touch her. This was my mother's. Now it's yours. For tonight."

He took it out and went behind me. He put it around my neck. His fingers were warm on my cold neck as he closed the clasp.

In the mirror across the room, I saw us. Me in the red Valentino dress, with a diamond necklace. Him shirtless behind me, tall, tattooed, scarred, his hands on my shoulders.

We looked like a real couple. A mafia king and his beautiful, dangerous girlfriend.

"Killian..." I whispered, looking at his hands on my shoulders in the mirror.

"Yes?"

"If I am your girlfriend tonight... will you dance with me? At the party?"

He looked at me in the mirror, surprised. Then he smiled. A small, real smile.

"Only if you promise not to step on my feet, Little Spy. And only if you promise not to shoot anyone during the dance."

"I promise. Maybe."

He laughed. A real laugh this time. Deep and low.

"Good. Now go take a shower. You smell like my bed. Which I like, but the Moretti will think we already... and I don't want to have to explain."

My face turned red as a tomato.

"I DO NOT SMELL LIKE YOUR BED!"

"You do. And it smells good."

He pushed me gently towards the bathroom.

"Go. We have a party to ruin and a murder to solve. Tonight, Elara, we start our revenge."

I went into the bathroom, wearing the $8,000 red dress and my mother's diamond necklace was actually his mother's, and I looked at myself in the mirror.

For the first time in two years, I didn't look like a grieving sister.

I looked like a woman who was going to get justice.

And maybe... maybe I looked like a woman who belonged in the arms of the devil.

Tonight, I would wear red.

Tonight, I would find my brother's killer.

And tonight, I would dance with the devil himself.