His voice. It washed over me then, like it had done the night in The Club. It was low, gruff, and the sexiest thing I’d ever heard.
Even though my eyes watered, his hand was still outstretched, and I couldn’t help but stare at it. I kept thinking about the way he had touched me. Held me. Our moment in the candlelit room.
The hand he held out took a firmer shape, lived inthismoment, and I noticed a tattoo that covered the entire portion of his opposite hand, his left. It began at his wrist and ended at the beginning of his long fingers. It created the face of a snarling black wolf. The animal’s eyes were electric blue, like his.
If this man wanted a woman to have all kinds of sex with him, why would he ever have to pay someone? I was willing to bet my stale loaf of bread that almost any woman would want to be touched by him. He was universally appealing, and he had that something about him that evened out his beauty. It was something wild and rugged. He had something that existed deeper than the physical and couldn’t be truly explained.
No. It could in simple terms. He was a brutal force. I could feel him pushing in on me without even touching me.
He cleared his throat, and my eyes automatically went there. It was the first time I’d seen him so close up. Just like I hadn’t noticed the tattoo, I hadn’t noticed the scar that circled his throat. It was old, almost the same color as his skin, but noticeable.
“Ms. Flores,” Rocco said, breaking my trance. “Shall we begin?”
It took me a moment, but after Capo retracted his outstretched hand, I cleared my throat and croaked out, “Yeah, but call me Mari.”
Rocco nodded. “Mari.” He gestured to the seat.
I took it, my eyes never leaving Capo’s. His eyes never left mine. It was intense, but somehow I didn’t care. I wanted to stare at him. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get tired of looking at him.
Seeing him from a distance suddenly felt like a sin. All of his features were better seen up close.
Capo took the seat across from me, his cologne filling my nose as his clothes were pressed from the movement. Rocco gave us a minute as he thumbed through the papers situated in front of him.
Capo reached across to take my hand again. “Mariposa,” he said. “You can call me Capo or Mac.”
I cleared my throat, knowing it was going to sound off when I spoke. I still hadn’t taken his hand. I knew how it felt against mine, and I was almost afraid that a spark would go off when we touched. I wondered if a spark had gone off when he had touched me in the dark at The Club? I had felt it. “I’d rather call you Capo,” I said, my voice small and full of sand. “And you can call me Mari.”
I reached out to make the connection then, not wanting to be a chicken, but when I got close, I slapped at his hand, like I was giving him a sideways five.Too soon.It was too soon to touch him again. To be caught up in him. I didn’t want my eyes to give away what he possibly didn’t see in the darkness. How much he had affected me.
He grinned, but it didn’t touch his eyes. “Mariposa,” he said, using an Italian accent on the Spanish word. “I’ll call you Mariposa. The butterfly.”
The butterfly. I moved my head to the side, somehow thinking I could see him better. It didn’t make things clearer, but from any angle, he was stunning. The most beautiful thing I’d ever seen apart from my favorite. The butterfly. That was why I hated when people who meant nothing to me called me by my full name. It was the only thing special about me, and when they said it so plainly, like it meant nothing, it reinforced all that I felt—unseen. A caterpillar still stuck in the ugly phase of its life.
Coming from his mouth, those full lips, I didn’t mind. I liked the way he had said it, with a roll of his tongue. Mariposa. He made it sound…special. Beautiful even.
“Mari, you asked me why you were here,” Rocco said, breaking through the fog surrounding me.
I nodded, taking another sip of water.
“Careful.” Capo grinned at me. “It seems the water here is thicker than normal.”
I narrowed my eyes.Smart ass.Then I turned from him, making a deal with myself not to look at him again until Rocco shed some light on the paperwork in front of him.
“Are you familiar with arranged marriages, Mari?”
“Arranged marriages?” I repeated, sounding as dumb as I was sure my face looked. Of course I knew what they were, but why in the hell was he bringing them up during this meeting? I expected words like sex submissive, or discussions about the price of flesh and what I would and wouldn’t do for a buck. But marriage?
“An arranged marriage is when—” Rocco started.
I lifted a hand, stopping his explanation. “I know what it is, but what does it have to do with why I’m here?”
“If you had known what you were getting into,” Rocco said, giving me a pointed look, “I wouldn’t have brought it up. However, since you were chosen by Capo for this arrangement and you were not previously made aware of the situation, I am here to make things clear. Arranged marriages are not uncommon in our culture, though usually both sides of the family are involved. That aside, Capo wants to take a bride. After spending some time with you, he chose you. That is why we are here, Mari. Capo wants to marry you.”
* * *
“Marry you?”I repeated, looking between the two men, able to look at Capo again since Rocco had explained why I was there. Neither one of them laughed or looked remotely like they were playing around with me.However, I laughed. Cackled like a witch.
Then I became quiet, realizing how serious they were being. “Fucka me,” I said, wiping my eyes. Then I turned them on Capo. “You really want to marry me?”
