Jesus. A mafia boss.
It sinks in like a ton of bricks, and fear clears my head. Using common sense, I decide to play his game for a little while until the opportunity to escape arises.
Then my ass will take the first available flight to the other side of the country.
“Okay. You can do this,” I whisper as I walk to the door, but when I open it and my eyes land on Adriano, I start blinking like crazy and my brain misfires.
Mother of God.
My eyes drag over the black ink covering his chest, and for a second, I honestly forget to breathe. His broad chest is defined with muscles, as if he’s spent his entire life exercising and fighting to survive. There’s not an ounce of softness on him. The man is all hard pecs, deep lines running down his stomach, and every ab cuts sharp into his bronzed skin.
Adriano looks even more dangerous without a shirt on, like violence wrapped in beautiful, expensive skin.
I suck in a breath as I take in all his tattoos, the dark ink wrapping over his right shoulder and down his arm in brutal detail, consisting of roses, guns, prayer hands holding rosary beads, skulls, and five crows.
There’s a deer grazing on his left side, and across the entire right side of his chest is a devil with hollow eyes, the mouth smirking as if it knows all the secrets to the universe.
As his hands move to grab a soft-looking shirt from a shelf, his skin ripples over roped muscle and veins that lead all the way to his hands, and once again, I get stuck on the words above his knuckles.
KNEEL.
Now it makes sense.
As I take in the detail of the skull, sitting in the center of a sharp-pointed star, I know with dead certainty this man is used to seeing people on their knees.
Adriano pulls the shirt on, and as he adjusts it over his torso, his eyes suddenly lock with mine, and I’m blasted a step backward from the intensity in his stare.
Laurie, I have bad news, girl. I don’t think you’re going to get away from this man, so… uhm… maybe you should try to win him over? Turn his obsession into love.
Jesus. How? I couldn’t make a normal guy love me, so how the hell am I going to get it right with someone like Adriano?
“Feel better?” he asks.
I nod, and wiping my sweaty palms down my sides, I swallow hard.
He closes the distance between us, and placing his hand on my hip, he presses a kiss to my forehead before saying, “Change into something comfortable and come to the kitchen.”
I wait for him to leave and shut the door before I walk to my suitcase. So over this damn wedding dress, I practically rip it off and dig out a pair of jeans and a sweater. This mansion is icy from the AC blasting through the air.
It’s probably so the smoking hot devil doesn’t combust into flames.
“You have to stop noticing how attractive he is,” I chastise myself. “The goal is to wrap him around your finger so he doesn’t riddle you with bullets, not end up losing your own heart in the process.”
I swap my sneakers for a pair of ballet flats and tie my hair at the nape of my neck. I also spray on some deodorant, then suck in a deep breath before I head downstairs.
When I enter the kitchen, I see Adriano chopping tomatoes. He handles the knife with expertise, and the sight is so domestic, it catches me completely off guard.
“I didn’t find anything about you having allergies,” he mentions. “But is there something you don’t eat?”
He didn’t find… just how much digging has he done on me?
“Just not livers, kidneys, and other insides.” I step closer, keeping the large granite island between us.
His sharp gaze touches on me, and noticing my sweater, he asks, “Are you cold?”
I wave a hand through the air. “The AC is a bit low.”
Using the big knife, he points at a panel against the wall. “Turn it up. I want you to be comfortable in your home.”
