Then I realize she’s shaking. A violent type that starts in her hands and works its way up her neck. I toss the pliers aside and keep walking, the wet slap of my boots on the concrete the only sound in the room. I stop a foot away from her. The scent of jasmine and amber is fighting the copper stinking up the air, and for a second, it almost makes me sick.
"Are you scared of me, little Gia?" I ask, tilting my head.
I watch her eyes. They’re wide, dark, and flickering.
“W-what?” She whispers.
“Are you scared of the monster that I am?”
“Oh.” She takes a ragged breath, her gaze finally meeting mine. She waits a beat, her throat working as she swallows. Then, she shakes her head. Slowly. Defiantly.
"No," she whispers. “I’m not.”
"Don't fucking lie to me, Gia. You’re shaking hard enough to break." I snap.
"My body is scared," she snaps right back, her chin lifting. "My nerves are screaming. But I’m not running. This is the world I married into, isn't it?"
I tilt my head, studying the iron in her gaze. No tears. No begging. Just a raw acceptance of the carnage at my feet.
"It’s the only world there is," I reach out. Not thinking about the blood or the fact that I’m ruined from the elbows down. I grab her waist and haul her into me, the movement rough, fueled by a sudden, violent surge of something that isn't just anger.
I want her.
She gasps as her front hits my chest. My wet hands find the small of her back, the silk of her dress soaking up the red immediately. I can feel the heat of her skin through the fabric, and the cold, dead blood against her living, thrumming warmth is enough to make me lose my goddamn mind.
"Look at your dress, Gia," I mutter, my face inches from hers. "I’m staining you, marking you. Do you want me to stop?"
Her eyes darken at my words and the desire I see there is overwhelming.
"Don’t stop, Rafael," she says, her voice a low, wanting moan.
Fucking hell.
I don't give her another chance to change her mind. I crash my mouth against hers, groaning at the feel of her as I shove my tongue into her mouth, claiming her, marking her, hoping to drown out the memory of Fredo’s screams with the sound of her whimpering into my throat.
My hands slide down, grabbing her ass, and pulling her up until she’s forced to wrap her legs around my waist. I pin her against the cold stone wall of the corridor, the thud of her back hitting the rock and the little gasp that leaves her lips at that echoes in the dark.
"R-Rafael," she breathes against my lips, her hands tangling in my hair to pull me closer.
I’m hard as a rock, my cock straining against my trousers, pulsing with a rhythm that matches the frantic beat of her heart against my chest. I want to rip that dress off. I want to take her right here, on the dirty concrete. I want to find out if she tastes like jasmine all the way down.
Fuck.
"Boss! The Don is on the line. He says it’s urgent."
The voice breaks through the haze like a gunshot and I freeze, my forehead resting against hers, both of us heaving for air.
It’s Dmitri. He’s standing at the end of the hall, his footsteps halting as he realizes what he’s just walked into.
"Give me a fucking minute!" I grunt, the sound tearing through my throat.
I slowly let Gia slide down the wall until her feet hit the floor. The second she’s steady, she pulls away. The light in her eyes, that raw, animal hunger is gone and is replaced by the Ghost Heiress.
I want to see that hunger again, I want to taste her again.
"Gia," I say, reaching for her, but I stop when I see my own bloody fingers. Shit.
"I- I need to go wash," she says, her voice sounding like it’s coming from another zip code. She doesn't look at me. She just turns and walks away, her bare feet silent on the stone.
