Page 22 of Cage of Thorns and Blood

Renata shrugs. She downs half her glass of prosecco and then takes a bite of pizza. Her eyes roll back in her head as she chews. She swallows and daintily dabs her mouth with a napkin.

“Oh my God. That is literally the best pizza I've ever tasted. You said it was as good as in Naples, but that's better than the slice I had in Naples.”

“I'll tell Luigi. He'll be over the moon with that praise.”

Luigi brings us over a bottle of white wine to go with the food, and at some point, the conversation turns more serious.

“So how have you been?” she asks me out of the blue. “It's been a long time.”

And here we are, right back on landmine territory again.

“It has been a long time,” I say carefully. “I've been good; thank you. Busy. Work is always crazy, you know?”

“Not really,” she says with a hint of frustration. “I'm not allowed to work in the family business. They say it isn’t a place for women.”

“They’re not exactly wrong,” I say, risking her wrath. “It isn’t safe.”

“That means it isn't safe for you either, or my brother, or my father. Why does it only matter that it isn't safe for me?”

Is she being purposely dense? “Because you're a woman,” I say.

“Oh, thank you!” she exclaims. “I'm glad you finally explained that to me. I understand it now. I was always so confused, but now you've made it very clear. Because I don't have two balls and a dick, then I'm inherently in more danger than anybody else.”

I dab my mouth with a napkin and consider her for a moment.

I like feisty Renata, but I also want to spank the sass right out of her. “You do understand that if you were taken, there are things that could be done to you which would be much worse than anything they might do to me?” I fix her with a serious glare.

“See, I don't think that's true.” She takes a sip of wine and steeples her fingers in front of her face. I get the feeling I'm about to get a lecture. “Firstly, there are plenty of things that can be done to you which will be terrible, painful, and traumatizing. Secondly, just because you're a man doesn't mean you can't get sexually assaulted, which is what I presume you are alluding to.”

I had forgotten how determined Renata can be when she gets angry about something. Not that I mind; in fact, I find it amusing. Sometimes when I was younger, it did irritate me. I was young and stupid then, though. I used to think why can't I get someone as beautiful as Renata, but as compliant as one of the DeLuca sisters. I now understand that part of Renata’s appeal is due to that independent, fierce streak she has within her. It shines out of her and adds to her alluring appeal.

After all, there’s fun to be had in taming all that wildness.

She lifts her gaze to mine again, and in the dim light of the restaurant, her eyes look deep blue. They change so much with the light and her emotions. Renata's eyes are dangerous. A weapon she could use to get a man on his knees for her. It isn't just their color; they are large and almond shaped, with thick lashes that even without makeup form heavy, dark curtains that only serve to highlight the beautiful color of her irises.

“I understand what you're saying, but you can't expect the men in your life to be as blase about your safety as they are about their own.”

She snorts a little, and it's so unladylike it makes me smile.

“I don't think for one minute that the reason I'm not on the board of our family business is because of my safety. I mean, they don’t even give me security.”

“You ought to have a detail,” I growl. “I wouldn't let a female member of our family of your standing be wandering around without security.”

She sits back in her chair as if satisfied with my answer and takes a sip of her wine. She swallows and nods. “Exactly. They don't give a damn about me.”

Oh, my little fish, you are going to be so easy to reel in.

She licks her full lips, and I follow the motion, suddenly hungry for something other than food.

As if she's reading my mind, her eyes widen, and her pupils darken.

The air between us seems to grow heavy and expectant.

“I'm stuffed,” she says.

“Do you want to look at the dessert menu?” I ask.

“No.”

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