SLEEPING WITH THE DEVIL

ONE BULLET

*CHAPTER 4: ONE BULLET*

*SLEEPING WITH THE DEVIL by Cassidy*

Dinner lasted two hours.

Two hours of me standing behind Killian's chair in that stupid short maid uniform, holding his jacket, pouring wine for the two men who killed my brother.

Two hours of Luca Moretti staring at my legs every time I moved.

Two hours of Vittorio Blackwood talking about shipments, guns, and money like he was talking about the weather.

Two hours of Killian holding my hand under the table so tight my fingers turned white.

When dinner ended, Vittorio stood up and said, "Killian, walk me to the car. We need to talk about the girl."

My heart stopped.

Luca stood up too, smiling at me. "And I will stay here and keep your pretty maid company, amico. Don't worry, I will be gentle."

Killian stood up. He put his jacket back around my shoulders.

"No. Elara comes with me. She is my maid. She goes where I go."

Vittorio frowned. "Since when does a maid walk the boss to the car? Are you f*****g your maid now, Killian?"

"If I am, it's none of your business, Father," Killian said coldly.

We walked out of the dining hall, all four of us. Outside the villa, the rain had stopped, but the ground was wet. Ten black SUVs were parked in front, with ten men in black suits standing next to them, all with guns.

My brother's killers had an army.

At the main car, Vittorio stopped and looked at me.

"Girl, what's your full name?" he asked.

"Elara... Elara Santos, sir," I lied, using my mother's maiden name.

"Santos? Not Reyes?" he said, testing me.

"No, sir. Santos, sir."

He stared at me for five more seconds. Then he looked at Killian.

"Killian, I don't like this girl. Fire her tomorrow. There are many prettier maids in Milan who don't look like dead drivers."

"She stays," Killian said. "Goodnight, Father."

Vittorio got into his car. "Luca, let's go. And Killian, think about what I said about the Sicilian shipment. $20 million is a lot of money to say no to."

"I said no," Killian said.

Vittorio's car drove away. Ten SUVs followed. The sound of engines disappeared into the Lake Como night.

Only one SUV stayed. Luca Moretti's.

Luca walked towards me. I stepped behind Killian immediately.

"Relax, I just want to say goodnight to your maid," Luca said, his hands in his pockets. "Elara, right? If you ever get tired of cleaning his house, I have a big house in Como. You can clean my bed."

He reached out to touch my face.

Killian grabbed his wrist in mid-air. Hard.

"I told you not to touch what is mine," Killian said, his voice so low it was a growl.

Luca laughed and pulled his hand back. "Possessive. I like it. But remember, amico, everything you have, your father gave you. Including your maids. Goodnight."

He got into his SUV and drove away, fast, splashing muddy water on my stockings.

We were alone. Just me and Killian in front of the huge black villa, in the cold night air.

The second the SUV lights disappeared, I collapsed on the steps. My legs gave out.

Killian knelt beside me.

"Hey. Hey, look at me. You did good. You did very good inside," he said, his voice soft now, not the Mafia King voice. He was holding my shoulders.

"I almost killed him," I whispered, crying now, not caring if he saw. "I had a bullet. I could have killed him. He killed Marco. He admitted it."

"I know," he said. "And if you did, my father's men would have killed you in that dining room. And I... I couldn't have stopped ten men."

"You were holding my hand so I wouldn't do it."

"Yes."

"Why? Why do you care if I die? I came here to kill you!"

He was quiet for a long time. The lake was making soft waves behind us.

"Because Marco asked me to take care of you if anything happened to him," he said finally. "And I failed him once. I won't fail him again."

He stood up and picked me up from the steps like I weighed nothing. One arm under my knees, one arm around my back. Bridal style.

"What are you doing! Put me down! I can walk!"

"You can't even stand, Little Spy. And you are crying on my steps. The maids will talk."

He carried me into the villa, up the stairs, back into his master bedroom, and locked the double doors.

He put me down on the bed. My stockings were muddy.

He went to the bathroom and came back with a warm towel. He knelt in front of me and started wiping the mud off my legs. Gently. Carefully. Like I was something fragile.

No man had ever touched my legs like that. Not with lust. With care.

"Killian..." I whispered.

"Don't move," he said, wiping my ankle. His hand was warm.

When he finished, he threw the towel away and sat on the floor in front of the bed, looking up at me. I was still wearing his jacket over the short uniform.

"You still have the bullet," he said.

I touched my garter. Yes, the bullet was still there.

"Use it now, if you want," he said, taking my Glock from the drawer and putting it on the bed between us, unloaded. "One bullet. One chance. If you still think I killed your brother after everything tonight, put the bullet in and shoot me. Right here."

He pointed to his chest. His heart.

"I won't stop you."

The room was silent. Only the fireplace crackling.

I looked at the gun. Then at the bullet in my garter. Then at him.

His gray eyes were tired. Sad. Not a devil's eyes. A man's eyes who lost his brother too.

I took the bullet from my garter and put it on the bed.

"I don't want to kill you tonight," I said.

"Good," he said, and let out a breath he was holding. "Because I don't want to die tonight. I have to protect you for 29 more days."

He picked up the gun and the bullet and put them back in the drawer and locked it.

"Sleep on the bed," he said. "I will sleep on the sofa."

"There is only one bed in your contract!"

"My contract says you sleep with the devil. It doesn't say you have to sleep _with_ the devil. The sofa is still sleeping with the devil. In the same room."

He took a pillow and a blanket and went to the huge black sofa in the corner.

I lay on his huge black bed, wearing his jacket, smelling his perfume on the sheets — Oud Wood and rain.

"Killian?" I whispered after five minutes of silence.

"What?"

"If your father finds out who I really am... will you really protect me?"

He didn't answer for a long time. Then he said, in the dark:

"I already am, Elara. I already am."

And for the first time in two years, since Marco died, I fell asleep feeling safe.

In the bed of the man I came to kill.