“A drug dealer.”
She eyed me with desire in her eyes. “I am not a drug dealer.” Which was true even if there had been times our family had dabbled in the sale of illegal drugs.
“Hmm… A carnival worker who escaped the circus.”
Another round of laughter and my control was slipping. “You’re getting warmer.”
“Oh, goody.”
We sat quietly, the girl finally telling me a little about herself, enough that I had serious doubts about her intention of seducing me. She was simply enamored by a strange man who’d come onto her premises.
“Do you like art?” she asked, as if just trying to think of something to say. “You know, like paintings and drawings?”
The longer I was around her, the more savage I could become. She was far too tempting.
“Not really.”
“Oh, well, I’m going to be an artist. Maybe pictures. Maybe designing clothes. I haven’t decided yet.” When I said nothing, she sighed. “I know. To a man like you, very boring.”
The look of disappointment on her face caught me off guard. Since when would I care? But I did. “Not boring at all. Tell me more.” The more she told me about her life, the more information I gleaned.
When her eyes lit up with fire, my cock ached more than before. All the filth running through my mind was unacceptable. But I couldn’t help myself. If she wasn’t so young and so innocent, I would defile her.
“I live a boring life compared to you, but I read extensively. One day I’m going to live in the United States. Of course Golden Angel will come with me.”
Her words were rushed, the shimmer on her cheeks keeping my rapt attention. Every few seconds, she glanced into my eyes to ensure I was still paying attention.
I was.
The more she talked, the more the subtle movements of her hand flicking through her luscious hair and the way her eyes flitted continually in my direction became far too beguiling. My hunger for her only grew, but more than that, everything about her was refreshing. While I was careful in what I offered as far as information, she hung on every word.
Over an hour had passed and while she was cleaning up the picnic she’d provided, I sensed she felt at a loss. “That’s me in a nutshell. I told you, boring.”
“No, delightful, but you should go,” I told her, and all through her comments about her family, my anger toward her father grew exponentially. He was a sadist determined to destroy her happiness.
“Who are you, Kazimir? I mean, you’re here for a reason. Why did my father take you? Where are you from? Maybe I can help you.”
A confirmation regarding her status. While there was no reason to lie to her, I also wasn’t ready to provide additional details about my family. “I don’t know why I’m here and you will not help me.” She truly had no understanding of the level of danger we were both in. The girl lived in a bubble of safety and all I could think about was vilifying her protected world. What did that make me?
“Men like you always know.” Her insistence was followed by a slight snort, which was just as adorable as everything else.
“How so?”
“You’re powerful and dangerous. Aren’t you? I was right before. You’re someone my father is afraid of.”
“Why would you say that,moy malen’kiy tselitel’?”
“Because you’re alive. If he killed you, he would face your revenge more than if you were to escape. You have men working for you. I know it. I’m never wrong. They will do whatever it takes to get you back.”
Her sense of understanding of my world was as surprising as the woman herself. She was far more mature than her eighteen years.
“You may be right, which is why you need to stay away from me,” I told her honestly.
“Does that mean you’ll hurt me?” There was no longer any fear in her. That surprised me. Maybe I was losing my touch.
“No. But that means your father might. I’m not a good man, Rafaela. At some point, you might learn more about me and what you will hear is all true. I am calledIl Diavolofor a reason.”
She thought about what I’d said, nodding, but I could already tell she wasn’t planning on heeding my advice. “You’re right. I should go.” With the duffle slung over her shoulder, she moved to the door, her dog dutifully following. “Golden doesn’t like men. She hasn’t since the day she was placed into my arms after a horrible man had smacked her. But she adores you. Dogs are the best judge of character in the world. That tells me that deep inside, you’re a very good man even if your profession or your upbringing suggests otherwise.”
