I have to force the want from my face. The need. And damn him, but Luc doesn’t miss it. Those damn angelic lips twist up into a knowing grin.
“What will you give me for these pretty knives, Caterina?”
His voice is low, seductive. A threat. And as I glance around, I notice all eyes on us. Dante has stopped, frowning as he stares over. Giovanni’s expressionless, but he watches anyway. Even Stefano’s eyes are drifting in our direction.
I take a step closer to Luciano. He tilts his head as I lean in, his breathing shifting to something deeper.
“Give me the stabby things, Morelli,” I murmur. My nail traces a line down his shirt, scraping the front of his trousers where none of the others can see, and I have the satisfaction of watching his pupils dilate as he shifts. “And maybe I won’t try them out on you.”
These men play their games, but they forget that I can play too.
My hand cups him, just in case he missed my fucking obvious warning.
Iwantthose fucking knives.
“Consider them yours, then, little crow,” Luc murmurs. My eyes flick up to his as his cock hardens under my hand. “I’m sure I’ll be able to get another set.”
I highly doubt it, but I offer him a sunny smile, my hand dropping from his trousers. “Why, thank you, Luciano. Very generous of you.”
He holds out the case for me to take, and I wrap my arms around it protectively as I head for the door. As I pull it open, Giovanni’s voice rings out.
“Picking sides, Morelli?”
But it’s Luciano Morelli’s drawled response that makes me pause. I turn to look over my shoulder, meeting his gaze, my new knives held tightly to my chest.
“Some of us chose a side a long time ago, Fusco.”
It’s only later, as I’m in the safety of the apartment examining my stolen present, running my finger reverently down the sleek handles, that I see the edge of letters etched into the base of the bronze. I flip them both over to look.
CC.
He already had my initials engraved into them.
Chapter twenty-three Caterina
The car engine rumbles beneath me as I shift in my seat. Danny’s eyes flit up, meeting mine in the mirror. “Any word from Domenico?”
I shake my head. I’m expecting him back this evening, but I won’t be there to greet him.
No. Thanks to a brief text from my father with today’s date and a time, I’m on my way to a Cosa Nostra meeting without my enforcer by my side. Normally arranged weeks in advance, tonight I had just a few hours to prepare.
And I don’t feel particularly well-prepared at all.
This feels like a test. Or maybe a trap.
Grimacing, I pull out my phone. I’m tempted to ask Dante, to find out when he knew this would be happening, but I don’t want to let on that I didn’t know.
Nothing from Domenico, and still no response from Amie. I haven’t seen her, thanks to my absence from the dining hall, and she’s not responding to any of my messages.
It’s not something I can think about now, though.
“Coming up to the gates,” Danny calls. Straightening, I glance out of the window. The house rises up in the darkness, a large colonial mansion surrounded by acres of land. Used for the sole purpose of Cosa Nostra meetings, it never fails to look less than welcoming, despite the pretty exterior.
I take a minute to check my appearance in the small mirror I keep in the car for this exact reason. Thanks to the lack of notice, I didn’t have time to straighten my chaotic hair, so I scraped it back into a low bun at the base of my neck. My eyes are dark, dusky rose eyeshadow lined with kohl to make them stand out. A hint of color sits on my cheeks, my lips deepened to dark red.
Appearances are everything, after all. Especially to the men that make up the heads of the Cosa Nostra.
Danny pulls up to the entrance, exiting and coming around to open the door. Mindful of eyes watching, I ignore his outstretched hand, vivid red heels clicking on the paved driveway as I slide out. Straightening my fitted blazer, I sweep past Danny and make my way up the steps.
