“Civil?” The wicked smirk that follows his next words sends a dangerous shiver down my spine. “Careful, little wife, you’re blurring the line between fantasy and reality.”
Folding his arms, he leans against the wall, casually throwing me a wicked smirk. Something about the action sends heat through my core, and I hate him for that. Hell, I hate myself for that.
“Don’t flatter yourself. Men like you don’t exist in fantasies.” I manage to roll my eyes even though my pulse betrays me.
“Oh,dolcezza, the only fantasy that matters here is one where you’re on your knees begging me to ruin you in ways you know only I can.”
A soft gasp escapes my lips, but I can tell he heard it, because his eyes narrow darkly…hungrily. And I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t make me quiver.
I almost choke on my fury. “Gosh, I-I actually thought you could be decent for a second.”
His smirk deepens.
“Decent doesn’t get you wet, Princess.” I hold my breath as he unfurls his arms, standing straight and pinning me with a predatory stare. “Power does. And I’ll make reality so brutal you’ll beg me to be the villain in every book you ever open.”
My legs almost give way.
Chapter twelve
Dominic
Something isn’t right, and until I figure out what it is, I need to stay the fuck away from her….and not do useless things like build her a damn library. Damn it! My fingers find my hair, and I tug harshly until I feel my scalp strain from the pull.
The pain still doesn’t equate to the anger I feel at myself. What the fuck am I really doing?
Is this still operational control? Instructing men to track down first editions from world-famous authors? Fuck. I don’t know what to think. But I don’t like whatever this is. Not one fucking bit.
Admittedly, something cracked in my chest the night of the dinner, but that’s why I fucked her crazy that night. I’m attracted to her fucking body…and that’s where it should end.
I build power, crush threats… remind people where they stand with me above them, and them on their knees. That’s who I am. That’s who I’ve always been.
And henceforth, I’ll be no different to her.
I drag the glass of whiskey closer and take a large gulp that burns my throat. I’m about to down more when my phone buzzes.
“Capo, we found something,” Matteo says, voice tight as I pull the phone to my ear. There’s some shuffling and extra noises from other men in the background.
“Speak.”
“We found a few pieces of evidence along with a burner phone with one of the men.”
“Where?” I’m already yanking my suit jacket off the handle of the chair and heading out the door before he responds.
“We’re at the warehouse, east of the cafeteria.”
It’s fucking showtime.
***
The warehouse reeks with the distinct smell of blood. Just enough light projects from a single swinging bulb above to reveal the man strapped to the steel chair in the middle of the space.
His face is unrecognizable due to the injuries he has already sustained, his shirt drenched in sweat and blood.
“Boss,” Matteo says quietly, breaking the silence.
I glance at him, then at the half-dead man in the chair. “Is he one of us?”
Matteo nods. “Benito Gallo. Goes by Benny. He’s been with us for two years.” He pulls a folded packet from under his arm and drops it on the table. “We searched his quarters and found this hidden in a vent behind insulation.”
