At first, I thought he had lit a cigar and was smoking it, but as some of the smoke cleared from the humidity and my eyes focused, I realized that he was holding a piece of paper in his hands, watching as it burned.
I wondered if it was one of his contracts. I wondered whether, if I looked deeper into the tub, I would see swirls of blood in the water. I didn’t look. I kept my eyes focused on his face and went to take a step forward, but his voice stopped me.
“Midnight Rose,” he said, almost drawing out my nickname. His voice was gravelly and right above a whisper. He turned the paper a bit, letting it burn on another side so it wouldn’t touch his hand yet. “I stood in a room once—a room where oaths were made. I watched as a card burned, just like this. I was told—” he blew against the fire, watching the flames sway in the midst of condensed smoke “—that if I ever broke it, I’d burn in hell, just like this paper is burning in my hands. I took the same vow when I swore to uphold the laws of this establishment.”
Yeah, because if the rules were unbreakable for the women, they were iron for the men. Sometimes they’d let us go. Or “relocate us.” For the men—nothing less than certain death.
I held on to the glass a little tighter, fighting the urge to down his drink for liquid courage. This man never spoke to us this way. Never became this candid. It was eitherget thisordo that.Go here.Don’t go there.Never did he speak to us this long, and never, I was almost positive, did he include personal stories. The members sometimes chatted us up some, but most of the time we were like the ornate wallpaper on the walls. Admired but mostly ignored like the decor.
This man, though?Never.
Aniello turned slowly to face me, to meet my eyes. The fire between us wavered for a second before he turned away. The flame burned in the depths of his eyes, as he turned the paper again, the writing on it being consumed.
“You ever make an oath you wish you could turn to ash, Midnight Rose?”
My fingers tightened around the glass even more, but I wasn’t sure why.
“Cat got your tongue?” He grinned, and it made his eyes seem even more wicked. “You’re very quiet.”
“It’s best to listen,” I whispered.Then forget.
Laughter rumbled in his chest, but there was nothing warm about it. It chilled me to the bone. It was the sort of laughter that echoed down a dark alleyway, two shadows stretching along the buildings, one running for his life while the other laughed that laugh. It was the kind of taunting that meant,You think you can run from me and get away with it?
Loosening the grip on the glass, I was about to ask him if he was ready for his drink to change the subject, but he seemed to read my mind.
He held out his hand for it. I placed it in his palm, and before I could move, his wet fingers skimmed my skin. I inhaled a lung full of smoke as the burning paper dropped from his opposite hand and sizzled as it hit the water.
It took everything inside of me not to look down.
Stepping back instead, I kept my eyes on the profile of his face. “Am I dismissed?”
He took a leisurely sip of his drink, the gold coating his bottom lip in spiced honey. That was how he answered me, which meant that he wasn’t finished with me. I stood there while he enjoyed his drink, probably sweating every impurity out of my body. Especially when he licked the rim of the glass, right where my mouth had been, and it seemed to make me even hotter.
The need to lift my hair, to fan my neck, overwhelmed me, but I tamed it down. Whatever this fucking game was, he was winning, but damn if I’d let him know it.
His empty glasstingedas he set it on the table next to his fancy tub. “Towel,” he said.
I turned around to grab it from the hook, and when I turned back, he was standing, water sluicing down his body, running like rivulets. I kept my eyes firmly on his, refusing to give him an ounce of satisfaction by looking down.
Maybe he had read my thoughts earlier, when he’d picked up my key for me, and this was payback. Because when I handed him the soft towel, it seemed like he deliberately brushed his hand against mine again. That live wire had connected with the water pooling at my feet and gave me a little shock.
“Dismissed,” he said, as I almost stumbled back a pace.
“I hope you enjoyed your drink, sir,” I whispered, picking up my heels.
“Midnight Rose,” he said, stopping me before I opened the door.
“Do you need something else, sir?”
“No,” he said. “I don’t need anything. But this is an order—get it out of your system now. Stop looking at me the way you do. It’s fucking bad for business. Now. Get out.”
I sucked in a lungful of steam before closing the door behind me, the Italian tenor ceasing to exist outside of his room.
Even though I needed a few minutes to recover from the experience, I knew there was no way he’d read the look in my eyes earlier, or when I was being his personal servant in the bathroom.
There was one thing I was certain of. I was unreadable, even if a little unsteady, like every other hot-blooded woman when he spoke to them. He was the boss, after all, and fine as hell.
It had to be something else.
