Her eyes widened. She tucked a wild strand of hair behind her ear, clearly disturbed. I wondered how long it had taken for it to sneak out of the tight bun that wasn’t all that tight anymore. It was lax, resting against the nape of her neck. “You scared me.”
There it was. The truth of the matter.
She fucking scared me too.
“Tell me, do I scare you, Sistine.” I was never afraid of the truth. I lived by it. But I knew she was. It would take time for this…thing between us to step into the light.
She blinked at the blood stain and then met my eyes. Her head went back, like my words came in late and pissed her off. “You scared me, Signor Fausti, because I had no idea you were coming.”
Another roundabout truth.
“I mean—” She stopped herself from rambling. She knew where I was going with this but was refusing to join me. “You know what I mean! Let me grab your piece so that you can take care of…” She motioned to my wounded area.
She went to fly past me, but I refused to let her. I took her arm in my hand. I could snap her bones like a predator could a fragile bird’s bones. But this monster would rather cut his own heart out before he hurt her in any way.
She looked up at me, and I looked down at her. I could get lost in those eyes—live a thousand lives in them, from groves to beaches.
“Tell me the story of those boots,” I said, my hand full of an energy I had never felt before. It was moving through my body like lightning, making my heart rumble like thunder.
She blinked at me. I’d surprised her again. “They are just boots,” she barely got out.
“Worn-down boots always have a story,” I said. “Like cowboys never tell a lie.”
“Neither do Faustis,” she breathed.
I nodded.
Our eyes held, and this time it seemed like she couldn’t move her stare. We were both caught up in whatever was moving between us. It wouldn’t allow us to pull away. It was fucking magnetic. And a low growl vibrated in my throat again. It was that lion in my chest making the claim. He had made it the first time I’d seen her, but this time, he was letting her know.
Sheishis.
Heishers.
“Sistine!” Adone called from the front of the store.
Her grandfather’s voice broke around us, but neither of us budged. Not until he came to stand behind me and ordered her back to her post.
“I have to go,” she whispered. “My grandfather knows where your necklace is.” She looked at my hand on her arm. “Release me,” she said in Italian.
Neverwas on the tip of my tongue, but to prove a point, I let my hand linger on her for a moment before I released her.I demanded the warmth of my touch to linger on her skin after we parted. I demanded it brand her. Tattoo my mark beneath her skin.
She moved past me, but her body had to touch mine. She sighed out a trembling breath as she did, fixing her hair again.
“My office,” Adone said, pretending I needed the reminder. “I have your piece waiting on my desk.”
“Tell me,” I ordered in Italian, “who is left in this building.”
He rattled off names. “If you are worried about my granddaughter listening in on our private conversation, she will not. She keeps to herself.”
I almost grinned at that. He knew his granddaughter, but not as well as I did already. There was no doubt she was going to stand outside of his door, listening in. I invited her to. I expected it. Her sister was another personality all together. I would have sent her home if Adone hadn’t. She had no stake in this situation, and he knew she would have eavesdropped.
Adone invited me inside his office and closed the door behind me. I waited for him to take his position behind his desk and offer me a seat out of respect. He offered me the seat and a drink. I accepted the chair but declined the drink. My blood was already thin, and I didn’t want it to run harder.
Our conversation took place in Italian.
He sighed. “I take it this is not a business meeting.”
“Correct,” I said.
