Page 52 of The Enforcer

“True.”

I nodded several times as I tried to take everything in. “Who is after you in Italy? Are they going to follow you to Greece?”

“I honestly don’t know. Come here, Valencia.”

Being any closer to him would only cloud my judgment, so I remained where I was. “How could you not know who is attempting to gun you down?”

“This isn’t like the movies. Generally, no one is shooting another in the middle of the street.”

“Except in New York.” I noticed a slight flash of annoyance on his face.

He chuckled in the dark sound I was getting used to and brought the glass to his lips again. Since I’d refused to come to him, he rose to his feet, walking toward me with deliberate steps. At that moment, he reminded me of a stalker instead of a man I’d shared intense passion with.

Yet I stood my ground, the heat I’d wanted so desperately to ignore swimming to the surface.

“Perhaps only in New York. I’d say I can’t stand the place except I met a beautiful woman who captured my heart in her hands.” His smirk was entirely different than with other men. There was no condescension, no sense of irony. He was filled with filthy thoughts, which reflected in the way he was looking at me.

As a predator would his prey.

I wanted to hate both myself and the man for the way I felt, the tingling waves of heat that refused to let me alone. Or the shortness of my breath with every inch he walked closer. I longed to find the courage to ignore the way his lips appeared in the moonlight, or the sway of his muscular body as he walked.

Mostly, I was furious with my body for betraying me, for the desire that I couldn’t shove aside much like I hadn’t the first night I’d met him.

“You met a woman, huh? Is she pretty?” Why was I doing this to myself? Why was I daring to play the game? Because it was so natural between us as everything else had been. The banter. The laughter. The push and pull. The passion.

“I’d say on a scale of one to ten she was a fifteen. Maybe a twenty.”

“Then I’m surprised you’re not with her. You’ve already told me you prefer beautiful things.”

He took another few steps closer. “Yes, you are correct. She’s very stubborn. I’ve having an issue convincing her that although I had certain angry traits that follow me in business, I’m more of a cream puff inside when it comes to being around her.”

“There’s your problem,” I breathed. He was close, so close I could easily become intoxicated from his aftershave. I licked my dry lips.

“I have a problem?” He pressed his index finger against his chest.

“Oh, I think you have more than one, but more to the point, you’re not a cream puff. I’d call you more of a cross between a marshmallow and a rich hint of white chocolate.”

“Sounds delicious.” He purposely touched my fingers as he wrapped his hand around my glass. But he held it in place, his features becoming darker. “What do you suggest I do to win the heart of this incredible woman?”

“What if her heart’s too fragile?”

His features softened briefly. “Then I guess I’ll need to find a more suitable way of convincing her I’m not a bad guy and thatshe can trust me.” He lifted the glass of bourbon, taking a huge gulp.

“What if it’s not about trusting the man, but the lack of trust in what he does?”

He cocked his head, pulling the glass from my fingers. “Then perhaps she needs to learn more about him and his family so she can be convinced she has nothing to worry about.”

I took a deep breath as he placed the glasses on the outside table. “And does he plan on doing that?”

There were ways he looked at me that seemed as if he was looking straight into my soul. “What if she was invited to a family event, a celebration where all the family and even friends would be there? She’d have access to my world and lifestyle, able to chat freely with guests and my family. Do you think that might provide a sense of comfort?”

“What kind of celebration?”

“A wedding of my brother and another lovely American woman who stole his heart.” He cupped the side of my face with such gentleness my heart was skipping beats. “A small rehearsal dinner on Friday followed by the wedding and reception on Saturday. And Sunday brunch could become very… interesting.”

“It sounds lovely. When is the wedding?” His dark chuckle pulled me right to the edge. I’d never believed that a woman could be lost in a man, but I felt closer to doing so with every breath he took.

“This weekend.”

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