Page 43 of Falling for the Enemy

Tempted to act on my fury, I crack my jaw while grappling for control. “The only way I plan to hurt her is by breaking her back in bed.” To my amusement, his right eye twitches, my words striking their mark. “Something you may wish for but will never get the chance to experience.”

Not if I have anything to say about it.

He takes a step forward, his restraint close to fully slipping. The error is one I’ll welcome because, despite my vehement emotions, I won’t make the first move. Not in a place such as this. But if he strikes out at me, I won’t hesitate to drag him outside and into the cover of the night.

Where I’ll end him.

“Nyet,” he snaps. “You’ll keep your fucking hands off her.” He’s wrong. Given the chance, both my hands and mouth will explore and taste every inch of her. “Ari’s body isn’t yours to touch. Just as her heart isn’t available for you to steal.” He smiles. “Face it, svoloch, she’ll never be yours.”

The point is one I won’t argue.

She may never fully belong to me, but conversely, she’ll never belong to him. Or anyone else for that matter. I’ll eviscerate any man who tries to lie claim to the woman I’m beginning to view as my own and happily dispose of their bodies in the Atlantic.

Just as Arianna did Arturo.

“What your jefa is or isn’t to me is none of your concern,” I reply. “But word to the wise, cabrón—if I ever glimpse your hands on her as I did previously, I’ll slowly cut them from your body then tear your throat open with my teeth. Understand?”

He doesn’t get the chance to respond, or to swing at me, the latter a move that’s likely impending judging by his stormy expression. Not before a man I recognize from the papers as a city councilman approaches, his young trophy wife in tow.

“Mr. Sokolov,” he starts. “It’s nice to see…”

Their words fade as I step around the hijo de puta before me and ascend the three flights of stairs that, according to the blueprints I memorized earlier in the afternoon, only lead to one place.

The roof.

At the top, I push through a heavy metal door and step into the darkness of the night, visually searching for the seductress who never strays from both my thoughts and dreams.

I spot her instantly.

Standing by the raised ledge, her blonde hair and blood-red gown blowing in the slight breeze, she surveys downtown Charleston from behind her mask, the view of a cable-stayed bridge visible in the distance.

I’ve never met someone as beautiful as she.

Nor do I believe I ever will again.

I don’t know how much time passes—seconds, minutes, an hour—as I remain stock-still, watching the rise and fall of her shoulders with each of her deep breaths, her backless dress teasing me with a continuous glimpse of her soft flesh.

“Are you just going to stand there all night and stare, Alejandro?” Feeling my presence, the invisible rope that connects us tightening, she peers back at me, her scarlet-painted lips turned down. “Or are you going to come closer so I can toss you over?”

I grin and head straight for her.

* * *

Arianna doesn’t toss me off the building.

Contrarily, she silently watches as I pull a cigar from the jacket of my tux and slip it between my lips, the tips of my teeth holding it in place. Flipping open an engraved lighter I took from Melendez’s corpse the day I killed him, I light it, the kiss of the flame against the tobacco hypnotizing.

“You shouldn’t be up here alone.” I rip off my mask and fling it off the building, then take a hit of the Cohiba, relishing in the smoky pepper flavor that rolls over my tongue. “It isn’t safe.”

“I’m not alone.” She tilts her face heavenward, the sight of her delicate throat making my mouth water. What I’d give to taste her there. “My men are positioned throughout the building. I’m sure at least one of them has eyes on me.”

Following my lead, she removes her mask.

Setting it on the ledge next to her purse, she turns to face me. “I told you to leave, even assured you of what would happen if you chose to stay. But you’re still here. You truly don’t listen well, do you?”

“Men in my position give orders. We don’t take them. No matter how gorgeous the woman barking them is,” I answer, smirking. “Don’t take it personal, Hermosa. I never listened much as a boy either.”

With a roll of her eyes, a teenage-like gesture I never would’ve expected from her, she shakes her head, her blonde curls swaying as she does. “Your poor mother.”

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