I use every bit of my waning self-control to remain seated. “You should change your security system.”
Her brows lift, teasing. “Should I? You worried about me, hot stuff?”
“Worried,” I echo. I lean forward and place my elbows on my knees. “No. Frustrated, yes. You circle dangerous people and you’re too reckless for your own damned good.”
That gets a flicker of seriousness from her, maybe annoyance—brief but telling. Then, she smirks and slides out of her heels, but she doesn’t leave the foyer. She’s waiting for my next move. “You’re here for a reason, Enzo. Spit it out before you start lecturing me about my safety.”
I exhale, drag a hand through my hair. “I’m here to discuss Vale.”
There is a long beat of silence. I wonder if she’s going to acknowledge what I said.
We hold eye contact like a dare.
“Ah yes, the offer of ‘good faith,’ I believe it was. Didn’t Luna tell your lap dog we’d be in touch?”
“Should I let Hudson know you called him a dog?”
“Whatever does it for the two of you. Look, I get that you’re used to people falling at your feet, desperate for your protection and help. I’m sure waiting for us to come to you iskillingyou.”
“I’m not known for my patience. I have to admit, though, I’m surprised you’re not jumping at this offer.”
“I bet you are,” she says, voice cool, chin tilted like she’s the one with the upper hand.
She is.
I force a slow exhale and rise from the chair, setting the bourbon aside. “Then enlighten me, Pippa. Because from where I’m standing, delivering Vale to your doorstep looks like the fastest way to get what you want.”
“What I want?” She laughs—sharp, cold, dismissive—as she walks past me to the kitchen counter. As she walks, she flips open the clasp on her designer watch like the conversation bores her. “See, that’s where you’re already wrong. You think Vale is a chess piece. A token. Something you slide across the board to negotiate a truce.”
“He’s leverage,” I counter.
“He’s a landmine,” she snaps.
There it is.That fire under her polished exterior.
She turns, leaning a hip against the counter with her arms crossed. “You don’t understand what he is. What hewasto us. What he’s capable of. You think handing him over makes you heroes, but it doesn’t. It makes you naïve.”
A beat. My jaw ticks.What he ‘was’to them?Did she mean to let that slip?“You think I don’t know what Vale is capable of?” I ask quietly.
“I think you don’t know what happens to the people around him,” she replies. “I think you’re walking into a storm you’ve never seen before and assuming your power will carry you through.” She pushes off the counter and closes the distance between us. “But this isn’t your world, Enzo. This isn’t the mafia. This isn’t dirty politics. This isn’t money and compliance and bending people to your will.” Her voice drops to a whisper when she says, “This is hell. And you don’t walk into hell offering gifts.”
My pulse jumps. Not at the warning—at her. At the heat radiating off her, at her closeness, at the fury vibrating through every elegant line of her body.
“Even if we agreed to Vale,” she continues, “even if we accepted your alliance, you’d be stepping into something you can’t control. And when it blows up—and trust me, those odds are high—you’ll put your entire business at risk. Your family, your crew. These aren’t the kind of kills that can be allowed to find their way back to you. You wouldn’t survive it. It’s why we work alone.” She begins walking to the front door, as if she’s seeing me out.
Something inside me snaps. I step toward her and grab her arm. I turn her around and crowd her, forcing her backward until her spine meets the wall with a softthud.
She gasps. Not in fear, in challenge. Her eyes blaze up at me. “Don’t.”
“You think I’m afraid of your warnings?” I growl, hands planted on either side of her head, caging her in. “You think I don’t know exactly how dangerous this is? How dangerousyouare?”
Her breath hitches. I watch her tender neck move as she swallows. I can see her pulse quickening and it’s taking everything in me not to lick that pulse point in her neck.
“You keep pretending you’re warning me off,” I say, lowering my voice, “but what you’re really doing is trying to convince yourself you don’t want this—that you don’t feel anything.”
Her jaw flexes. Her gaze drops to my mouth for half a second. Half a fucking second, but I see it. And I can’t unsee it.
I lean closer, then lower my hand to hers. I hold our two hands between our chests. “Tell me you don’t feel this, Pippa.”
