Page 53 of Revenge on the Mafia

She stewed with that idea for a few minutes. “So how do I please you, Signor Martello?”

I ignored her jibe. “You’ll find a way.”

“Does this pleasing involve sex?”

She had her arms crossed, defiance screaming from her posture. I took her in from her messy bun on the top of her head to her curves covered in black. She’d stopped wearing fuchsia the day her father died. At least on the outside.

“My eyes aren’t between my legs,” she snapped.

My lips curled in amusement. “More of what you did to me last night? No man would say no to that, mia piccola assassina.”

“I didn’t do anything to you,” she said in disgust.

“Of course not. A witch invaded your body and dry-humped my dick until you came.” I turned to look at her. “Right?”

ANNA

Wrong.

There was no one to blame but myself. He knew he had me. His eyes shielded what he was thinking, but he had no problem showing off his cockiness.

I gave him my back and stared out the window. My mind was in chaos and everything was a blur. I had no idea how long we sat in his car. The thing smelled like him. Teak and cedar with the distinct smell of male arrogance mixed into it. He had tainted my vision and taken away the joy of a scent.

Far too soon, the house I thought I’d never see again loomed in front of me. Despair gripped me. There was no escaping this time. Unless I managed to end him.

I got out of the car reluctantly. When he took my bag from the back seat, I snatched it from his hand in the next instant. My gaze darted to the street.

“If you even think of running, I will make you regret it.” The chill in his tone was the scrape of a metal knife running down my spine. I suddenly wanted to rush across the street and put myself in front of a speeding car. He gestured toward the front door. “After you.” Clearly, reading my mind was another one of those things he was good at.

Each step I took toward the house dragged me deeper into the pits of hell. I stopped. He gave a gentle shove. Staggered a few steps, then stopped again. The bubble of shock he’d put me in with his ridiculous devil’s deal was cracking like dry clay under the beat of sudden heat. My breathing heaved. I should never have come here. Met this man. Tried to kill him. Should have just stayed home, looked after Mamá, and forgotten all of this. I dragged my feet for three more steps and stumbled to a stop. His chest brushed my back, and a sound that felt like a groan of irritation fell from his throat.

What the fuck was he irritated about?

He was the problem. That was it. We weren’t married yet. I could still get out of it. Push it as much as I could, and if I had to do it, I still had plenty of time to end him after a month and get back home before my visa expired. Who knows? Maybe I could off him sooner.

¡Joder! Off him sooner. The words alone were too ridiculous.

I picked up the pace.

“Finally,” he muttered behind me. I flipped him off without turning, and he muttered something in Italian. The house was quiet when I walked in. An uncomfortable thought settled in my head. I’d have to explain my desertion and reappearance. I’d let Magda down. I’d run from my friendship with Isidora. No wonder I didn’t have friends. When life tested me, I went into my shell. I’d lost all of them after Papá. Having Isidora to talk to had been refreshing. Disappointment flooded me at the thought that I’d destroyed that too. I needed to clear my head and figure out a plausible explanation before my next move. I turned to go down to the basement, and he followed me. I spun around.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

He nodded behind me. “Need to tell Magda you’re fired.”

“¿Qué?”

He dragged his thumb across his lips. “Because you’re fired.”

“Why?”

“My wife’s not going to be a fucking maid, Anna.”

My wife. The idea was turning my stomach into a thriving hub for an ulcer. I didn’t fucking think so. Not if I could help it. I could still get out of this shit deal, which wasn’t a deal at all.

He made to move past me. I blocked him. I took a deep breath. Handle this like him, Anna. Think. Come up with a plan. Cool it. “There’s no need for that. It’s only for a month, anyway.”

“Right.” He shot me an irritated glare. “Because after you kill me, you’re going to hang around and clean my fucking toilets?”