“They know better.”
“What do you mean?”
I stare at her for a moment, my gaze intense as my jaw sets. Surprise registers on her face before her brow furrows.
“They know not to make demands on my woman.”
“Your woman?”
She scoffs until she realizes I’m serious. Her expression sobers. I hold out my hand, which she peers at before finally standing. She takes it and lets me pull her forward. I guide her to straddle me. I untie her robe before doing the same to mine. Her gaze darts down to my hard-on. She tilts her hips, and I feel how wet she already is. I lift her and guide her onto my cock. She’s ready to move, but I hold her hips, keeping her still.
Confusion flashes across her face until she relaxes. She practically flops forward as she leans into me. I slide my arms beneath her robe and wrap them around her. My right hand rests between her shoulder blades while the left glides down from her ribs to her ass then up again. I do it over and over, soothing her.
“Chica, we can’t avoid mytío. It’d be better if he heard these things from you rather than second hand from me. He has to see you to believe you’re no longer a threat.”
“You believe I’m not.”
“Yes. You could play me for a fool, but only if you’re willing to die alongside me. You know you won’t kill me before I can kill you too.”
“Mmm.” She sounds unconvinced by my assertion.
“Were you a spy for real?”
“Yes. I studied international political economy at the London School of Economics.Agenzia Informazioni e Sicurezza Esterna,or AISE, recruited me straight out of LSE. The External Intelligence and Security Agency is the Italian CIA.”
“Oh, I know.”
And I do. All too well actually. My entire family is basically on every international watchlist ever created.
“They recruited me because I already spoke Italian, Sicilian, and Spanish. I studied Russian at university.”
“I’m guessing they weren’t interested in you as an analyst.”
“No, they were not.”
“A honey trap.”
She grimaces. She doesn’t appreciate the term. At least I don’t have to interpret for her.
“Being attractive helped, but they knew my education and intelligence counted for more.”
Helped.
That’s putting it mildly.
She’s a fucking femme fatale.
“What did you mean by your career exploded?”
“My father pulleda lotof strings to keep my family connections from ruining my opportunity to get into international relations. They recruited me without realizing who I was. My father only agreed to let me go to LSE if he could wipe my student records of anything short of my real name and birthdate. He paid a shit ton of money for my anonymity and false background. It all came out during the recruitment process. My father ensured I got treated fairly, all things considered. I worked for the agency for six years, from being twenty-two to twenty-eight. I was great at my job. I was one of the better field agents because I didn’t complain about any jobs. I did what Iwas told and had few reservations about how to complete the mission.”
“What went wrong?”
“Everything. My older brother’s murder made headlines across the country and half of Europe. Because he had many government contracts, Interpol and other countries’ law enforcement agencies investigated his legitimate businesses for corruption. They found nothing. Our family is like yours. It knows how to keep enough companies above board to disguise the ones that aren’t. But the damage had been done. Someone leaked photos of my parents and me to the press. I became too recognizable. The Agency claimed it compromised me too much to do fieldwork, which might’ve been true, but they didn’t even want me as an analyst. I was damn good at that too, but they really wanted to distance themselves from anything to do with the Mafia. I was out on my ass.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Two years.”
