Page 23 of Not Mine to Keep

“Gabriel’s more than likely trying to talk Armani down from flying here himself. And since his plan was to send Marcello, his second-in-command, here to intercept you, Gabriel will need to also convince Armani not to do that.”

“Interceptis a polite word for Marcello kidnapping me,” I said as Alessandro removed the gun from the back of his jeans. “Those men, they—”

“They were hired hit men, more than likely. No one that would tie directly to who wants you dead,” he finished, as if knowing where I’d planned to go with my line of thought even before I did.

“And how do you know they were hit men?” I set my back to the dresser, trying to get comfortable, but his overpowering presence in my room stamped out the possibility for that.

“Because it took me about four minutes to kill them, and if they hadn’t been trained professionals, they’d have been dead in thirty seconds,” he said flatly.

Before I could comprehend his words and ask how many dead bodies he’d racked up in his lifetime after the military, he started for the bathroom, gun still in hand.

I hesitantly followed him; he set the weapon on the vanity counter. You know, perfect place for that. Went great right alongside my pink hairbrush.

“You think Gabriel can convince Armani to trust you?” I asked while ducking down to grab a towel from the cabinet beneath the sink.

“Trust? No. But since I saved you, and someone on his team betrayed him, I bought us some time. Plus, my family name will give him ... pause.”

I was curious for him to elaborate, but when he didn’t, I closed the cabinet and stood to face him, towel in hand that was as pink as my hairbrush. “And you also hope this saving-my-life thing will earn you a chance to marry me?”

The scowl cutting across his lips was probably from his disdain for marriage and not because he’d have to use a pink towel. But maybe I was coming around to the idea he was being honest, because his acting skills couldn’t be that stellar.

“If you want to refer to the killing of three men who planned to play slice and dice with your body as a ‘saving-your-lifething,’ then yeah, thatincidentmay help me get on Armani’s better side. Not that he really has a good one.”

“Nice image you painted.” I raised my brows. “‘Slice and dice’? Really?”

Angling his head, he leaned closer, the towel all that separated us. “What did you think those men planned to do with those knives? Show you their culinary skills?”

“You can be a real ass, huh?”And there goes my attempt to be sweet instead of sour.

“That ‘ass’ is trying to save your life, so maybe you could consider being less of a pain in mine.” He righted his body, elongating his neck to show his six-plus-inch height advantage over me. But he also afforded me some much-needed breathing room. Because despite previously being outside, a little sweaty and now bloody, he still managed to come out smelling like masculinity and luxury bottled into the mostintoxicating and expensive brand of cologne. And I kept wanting a dizzying whiff.

Alessandro reached around me, his arm brushing against my rigid body, then he forcefully shoved the shower curtain aside, clearly still irritated with my hot-and-cold attitude. But I was a vibe girl, and I tended to match the energy of those around me. And the man could go from asshole to hero and back again as fast as I could change things up.

“You know, for a charmer, like you were last night, you’re—”

“I was only charming to try and get you in bed.” He casually turned on the shower as if he hadn’t just been incredibly blunt with me. “I’m leaving the door unlocked. If someone manages to get inside the house, come in and let me know. Got it?”

I nudged the towel against his chest. “Risk seeing you naked, or take my chances with an intruder? Those are my options?” Narrowing my eyes, I added, “Hmm. Tough choice.” I could withhold the charm just as easily, dammit.

“Callie.” His clipped tone had me flinching, but his baritone voice dropped into borderline silk as he followed up with, “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

“What part?” I whispered as he finally accepted the towel.

“Being your husband.” He shook his head and turned to the side. I went to the doorway only to stupidly turn around to see him discarding his phone and the towel to remove his shirt.

That was my cue to go. Not that I budged. He caught my eyes in the mirror, and I shamelessly moved my gaze to his rippling abs in the reflection. Arms made of steel. Strong shoulder blades and a touch of chest hair over those hard pecs.

He turned toward me, offering me an in-person view instead of just his reflection. I followed his hand, which was now at his belt buckle, finding the start of the happy trail above the leather belt. He popped the tail end out, slid his open hand across his waistline and grabbed the belt buckle, and swiftly pulled it free in one—holy shit, that was hot—move.

After the snap startled me, and he was looking at me like he wished he could take the belt to my ass, he casually tossed it to the floor. Without a hint of modesty or stain of red on his cheeks, he unbuttoned and unzipped his fly, allowing me to see his black briefs beneath. Well, something told me he was a briefs, not boxers, guy.

“Are you planning to watch me undress?” The dark finish in his voice jerked my attention away from his crotch.

“You did see me last night,” I reminded him. “Well,hintsof me.”Like my boobs.

“You confuse the fuck out of me, you know that, right?” He called me out, and maybe I needed that.

Because who was this woman? “Makes two of us.” At the feel of my lips crooking at the edges, I reached up to confirm the display of emotion there. “I’m smiling. Is there something wrong with me?” When his response was only a cocky grin, I added, “Heck, is something wrong with the both of us that we’re bickering like an old married couple and now smiling after what went down?”

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