Cherries.That’s what his scent reminded me of—cherries and mint. What a strange smell for a stone-hearted killer to drag around behind him, when all it did was remind me of dessert. I refrained from licking my lips.
Between his delicious scent and his veiled threat, my heart tripped over itself, and I laughed, fluttering a hand between us. “Don’t be absurd. The only time I wear a mask is during Carnival, and even then, I can barely keep the thing on all night.”
He studied my hands. “Is that so? Funny, the callouses on your fingers tell a different story.”
Well, godsdamn.
I curled my fingers inward before I could stop myself. His mouth quirked.
“Relax,principessa,” he purred, finally leaning back so I could finally take a fucking breath. “I’m not here to expose your extracurricular hobbies. Gabriel just wants to be sure there are no surprises waiting for him once you two lovebirds tie the knot.”
Heat prickled at the back of my neck at the mention of Gabriel’s name.Why couldn’t I get that image of him and his heart-ripping expertise out of my head?
“Ah. You’re on a fact-finding mission,” I translated. “How thrilling. Do you have a list of questions prepared? Favorite color, favorite flower, favorite way to poison someone?”
He tipped his head, pale gaze lingering on my mouth for a heartbeat too long. “My interrogations are usually more of an… improvisation than a plan. And you look more like the kind who would choose a knife over poison. No offense.”
Something in his dark tone slid under my skin, which was infuriating, because I should be thinking about the best way to open his throat, not about the shape of his full lips around the wordimprovisation.
And why was he really here?
Why was he crowding me on this sofa, making me wonder if the rest of him was as hard as that beefy thigh pressing into mine?
If Marcello wanted me dead, Ishouldbe bleeding out or fighting for my life. This felt… threateningly cordial, inappropriately flirtatious, and most definitelynotlike my life was in imminent danger.
More like he was about to ask if we should move this conversation to the bedroom or whatever smarmy pickup lines males like this used to get laid.
Who was I kidding? He probably just batted those pretty brown eyes and crooked his finger, and females fell into line behind him, ready to suck his…
“No offense taken.” I shrugged, taking a shuddering breath. “Forgive me if I don’t reveal all my secrets simply because your master gives you an order.”
“Gabriel isn’t my master,” Nico’s voice hardened, and for the first time, the easy humor vanished from his voice. “He’s my brother in all but blood. I’ve never failed him, and I never will.”
“Then what, precisely, does your not-master expect you to do here?” I asked sweetly. “Count how many gowns I own? Make sure my perfumes aren’t incendiary devices? Pat me down for hidden blades?”
Oh my gods, I was clearly an idiot.
“Oh, I already know where you hide your blades,” he observed casually. His eyes trailed down my body with deliberate slowness, enough to make me all twitchy. “Rightwrist, lower back, left boot. You favor your right side when you shift your weight. Left-handed, but you can throw with both.” His grin grew. “Of course, smashed into the corner of the couch, you’ll have trouble reaching the one at your back, but you can give it a go if you’d like.”
“You’ve been watching me for all of thirty seconds,” I snapped too sharply.
“Long enough.” He winked, wolfish. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your little secret. I’m a professional.”
“Professional what?” I asked. “Spy? Assassin? Interior decorator who also likes pointy things?”
“Tonight through tomorrow?” He leaned in, voice dropping. “I’m your chaperone.”
“I have a brother for that,” I hissed. A chaperone meant no sneaking out, no freedom…unless… Was that why he was here?I’d been careful tonight, following them over the rooftops, but I didn’t think Nico had noticed me.
Gabriel, on the other hand, had instantly honed in on my location every time I so much as blinked.
“Brothers are emotional creatures,” he pointed out drily. “Especially yours. Gabriel wanted someone… more objective, to watch over you in the meantime.”
I lowered my lashes, a drop of nervous sweat trickling down the side of my cheek, something else the bastard probably sensed. “And just how objective are you, Niccolò Draconi?”
He studied me, his expression strangely thoughtful. “That depends.”
“On?”
