Page 23 of Cage of Thorns and Blood

She doesn't give any other explanation, but the way she's looking at me so intently makes me believe she wants to get out of here as much as I do.

I wave Luigi over and tell him we'd like the check please. I reassure him that everything was wonderful as he fusses over the partially filled bowls of nibbles. I can't exactly admit to him that it's hard to eat when lust is racing around your body like cocaine, but I reassure him that the food was excellent.

I pay and then we're leaving, my blood singing with lust. “Would you like me to take you home?” I ask.

“Not really,” she says and glances up at me, a whole world of emotions swimming in her gaze.

“Would you like to come back to my place?”

“Yes, that would be nice; thank you.”

We're both being so damn polite when the tension between us is screaming that we want to screw.

No, that’s not happening tonight. If I want to get Renata to do my bidding when it comes to her family, I need her to fall for me. She might hate them, but I believe she’ll need that extra push. I want her to fall for me as revenge for what she did to me.

That's not going to happen if I screw her the first night we spend any time together. Or maybe it will because she's a woman. My father always told me that women fell in love when they had sex. I don't really think that's true. I had plenty of sex with my wife, and she hated my guts most of the time. Not that the sex was amazing. It was like scratching the most basic itch. In the end, I got my fun elsewhere.

I’ve never felt this unrelenting driving need to be with someone, though, like I have now for Renata. The ride back seems to take forever, and I'm hyperaware of the space between us. Every rise and fall of Renata’s chest, every little movement of her fingers as she fusses with her bag, and every shake of her hair, are all things I'm cognisant of.

I realize with a jolt of adrenaline that I haven’t felt this way with anybody for such a long time. This is how I used to feel when I was a teenager, this kind of heady, all-consuming awareness of another person in your space.

By the time the car pulls up at the house, it's all I can do not to throw her over my shoulder and carry her to my bedroom.

Instead, ever the gentleman, I open the door for her and let her into the house.

I'm also aware that we've entered land mine territory again. The last time she was here, she thought she witnessed my betrayal of her, and she left my gift in the bathroom before wrecking the place and storming out.

With bated breath, I wait to see what her first words will be.

“You redecorated,” she says.

She’s not wrong, but I wasn’t expecting that to be her first words in this house where so much happened between us.

“I have to say, I prefer this to all that gilt-edged stuff your family favored.” She saunters past me, her hips swaying as she walks straight into the living room and turns to me. “Are you going to fix me a drink?”

I laugh softly in relief and head to the bar. So no land mines tonight. Good girl, Renata.

I fix our drinks and wonder where this evening will go next.

Chapter 8

Renata

I watch as Matteo fixes drinks for us. Vodka martini for me, and a Scotch over ice for himself. I'm relieved that the house is so different now. I was dreading walking inside and finding myself taken back to that awful day, but it's as if I could be inside a completely different home. Gone is all the fussy furniture and overcrowded rooms. All the fake old-master paintings, the endless amounts of gold statues, and gold frames have been removed. In their place are bold pieces of art and large sculptural pieces, which suit the modern furniture.

I must admit that I like the place now. Matteo has done wonders with it. As he leads me out of the living room, I wonder where he’s taking me.

“I think you’ll like this,” he says.

He leads me into a large space, which I think used to be a music room, and I gasp. It’s been transformed into a large, modern, airy library. It’s full of wall to ceiling bookshelves, and it even has a ladder.

He must remember how much I love reading. He did too. Clearly, he still does. I walk into the room, holding my glass in one hand and letting the fingers of the other hand trail over the spines of the many books. There are classics, lots of thrillers, historical novels, and plenty of non-fiction too. I see a few business and motivational authors I’ve read myself.

“Do you like it?” he asks.

For a moment, the hard mask of the man he has become drops, and standing in front of me is an unsure young boy. I see the teenage him shining in his gaze, but he blinks, and the boy is gone again, only the man remaining.

“I love it,” I say truthfully. “You’ve done wonders with the house. It couldn’t have been easy living here,” I say. “After losing so many people, and your father deciding to leave for good.”

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