I crossed my arms over my chest as we seemed to inhale each other through our eyes. Although he was as stunning as always, a true wildness I had only seen on his face twice was present. When I shot at Iggy, and he had a breakdown after. And when the arrow had killed that man, and he thought I was hurt.
In that moment…
It irked me that I could not hold his intense stare for long. I looked to the left. “How did you find me?” My voice was breathy, and I hated it. I could not speak louder, though, because seeing him did things to me. Things I could not understand. His proximity both thrilled and put me at ease.
“I will always find you,” he said in Italian, his voice rough. It almost matched mine, but with much more intensity.
My eyes snapped to his. “Where is it? The bug?”
He grinned, but it was void of the vainness it usually possessed. He was possessed by something else. Thesomethingthat made the Fausti family who they were. Something wild not a lot of men could pull off. In that moment, I realized why he could fit in the backdrop—a place as wild as Wyoming—and not seem out of place. Wild lived inside of him. It only enhanced who he was.
He shook his head. “You and I both know electronics only go so far out here, Annie.”
At his nickname for me, I shivered. It had the same effect as if he had called mebaby.
“Tell me,” I said, gaining control over myself. He used those two words as a command to know the truth. I demanded the same of him. “How did you find me.”
“Tellme, what if I said something inside of me just knows.”
“Bullshit.”
He roared with laughter, and it pissed me off.
He stopped laughing suddenly. “You willing to challenge me on my truth, Sistine?”
“You did not commit to ‘just knowing’ where I am, Mariano. Therefore, no, I am not challenging your truth. However, you alluded to it, and I am calling it as I see it. How would you know where I was, in the middle of nowhere, by just knowing it?”
“Because I know you,” he said simply.
I shrugged—this was not a good enough answer.
His muscles quivered. He was bothered.
Bene!
“Venice is an entirely separate world for you here,” he said, switching gears.
I did not respond, and after a minute of the silence, of the intense connection, I turned to go. His hand wrapped around my arm, and I could have sworn his touch was an electrical storm. Goosebumps rose on my skin. The heat from his palm felt as if it were branding me.
“I didn’t know, exactly, where you were,” he said, and there was a bite to his tone. Anger. Below it. Unease. “Let’s not get it twisted. I would have found you eventually, but not fast enough without some help. I didn’t fucking like it. You were gone.”
“You do not own me, Casanova.” My tone matched his, except, perhaps, mine did not hold the same intense passion—or possessive edge—his held.
He laughed, but this time, there was no humor in it. “You fucking own me.”
My eyes met his.
“Yeah, you fucking own me.”
“Love is nothing but a game to you.”
A long pause, and his grin, the one I had come to know, appeared on his face. “You love me.”
A growl vibrated in my throat before it slipped from my lips. “You are not going to find a rose and a chocolate on your pillow here, Casanova. Animal shit is a part of life you will have to contend with. No one else will be there to pick it up for you.”
He exploded with laughter, and although I wanted to rip my arm from his grip, I could not seem to find it in myself to pull away from his magnetic warmth.
“How long are you here for?” I asked.
