Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 121996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
He takes it reluctantly, and I kneel in front of him, undoing the top button of his shirt. His free hand stills mine, and when I look up, our faces are so close his breath is warm against my lips.
“You should go back to your room.”
I narrow my eyes and shake my head. We’re locked in a war of wills, and there’s still a part of me that thinks he’ll insist, but his hand slowly falls away from mine. He tosses back his drink, his throat working in a way I never knew could be so … erotic.
I force myself to focus on the task at hand, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and helping him out of it. I saw his chest before in the pool area and the sauna, but it feels more intimate up close. My eyes are drawn to the round scars scattered across the broad expanse of muscle and bone. I don’t even realize what I’m doing until my fingers are touching the raised flesh, examining them with equal parts curiosity and sadness.
Again, he stills my hand, his eyes boring into mine, like he’s trying to say those are off-limits. I nod at him apologetically, moving on to take stock of his other wounds. He has more bruising on his side, as well as some minor cuts and scrapes. The biggest thing is the gash on his bicep, where it looks like he was stabbed with something.
I’m oddly relieved to find that most of the blood on him isn’t his. I’m also slightly terrified. This is the confirmation I needed that Alessio is, in fact, a killer. It’s in his nature. I can tell by his demeanor this isn’t the first time he’s come home bloodied and bruised, and it won’t be the last. Today, it’s someone else’s blood, but tomorrow, it could be mine.
I peek up at him and make a gesture of a writing instrument. He grimaces as he pulls out the drawer of the bedside table and hands a notepad and pen to me. I make a point to ask him what any sane person would in my situation.
What happened?
He’s quiet when I set down the notepad and retrieve an alcohol wipe. I tear it open and start to clean his arm first, wiping away the blood. I have to repeat the process, discarding the used wipes into a pile on the table. He watches me, and I don’t know if he’s going to answer me, but finally, he does.
“What do you think happened, Natalia?”
I pause to look at him. There’s an emotion I can’t quite identify on his face. This feels like a test, and I know playing stupid won’t do me any favors. I can’t unsee this, and he wants to know what I plan to do about it.
I discard the wipe in my hand and retrieve the notepad again. I think you killed someone, and it isn’t the first time. I think maybe it’s your job for the mafia.
He reads my response, his face unmoving. “Does that scare you?”
There’s a softness to his voice I didn’t expect. Almost as if he doesn’t want me to say yes. I don’t think he wants me to be scared of him, but how could I not be?
Who are the people you kill? I write. Are they bad? Or do you even know them? Are they women? Children?
He blows out a breath, shaking his head. “So many questions.”
The room falls silent, and I know he’s considering what I said. It feels too intense to look at him right now, so I give him space to think as I continue cleaning his arm.
“You shouldn’t have been in here,” he says quietly. “Now, I’ll never be able to let you go.”
I stop and reach for the pen and paper, hesitating before I write my answer. Maybe I don’t want you to.
For a moment, everything else falls away. I don’t know if it’s an honest confession, but right now, it feels like one. Alessio’s gaze burns into mine, the fire warming me from a place nobody has ever touched before. I think I want to taste him for real, and that scares me. The longer we stare at each other this way, the more doubt I have.
I tear my eyes away from him to focus on the paper. You’re going to need stitches.
Alessio surprises me by reaching out, his fingers grazing my chin before he tips it up, so I’m looking at him again. “The men who meet with me deserve what they get, but to answer your question, no. Never women and children.”
I release a shaky breath and nod. Maybe I shouldn’t, but I believe him. Still, I know it doesn’t change a thing. Just because he hasn’t yet doesn’t mean he won’t. He warned me. He’s still warning me. Everything about his energy right now is screaming that he’s a threat. I just can’t decide if it’s to my life or my heart.