Page 21 of Burning Beauty

He growled something under his breath and then said, "My wife."

Maria wrinkled her nose. "Why would your soon-to-be mistress go to your wife for anything? That's weird, Nic."

"Why don't you reserve judgment until you've met her. Cassandra is very easy to get along with."

"It's not her I'm judging, but her philandering husband."

"You need to stop talking, Maria," he growled, turning the full force of his frown on her.

She glared back. "Or what?"

He stared at her, not a flicker of emotion passing through the amber depths of his eyes. "You don't need a tongue to be able to fuck."

She narrowed her eyes and bit her lip, trying to stop the next comment from coming, but she was unsuccessful. "It would be better if I did have a tongue."

His bark of laughter was so unexpected it made her flinch. He reached for her chin and dropped a quick kiss on her lips, sending a cascade of feelings through her. Fear, elation, confusion.

"Stop talking," he said simply, his eyes touching her face. He didn't seem annoyed anymore though. His gaze was almost wondering, as though he was trying to figure out what made her tick and why he cared what made her tick.

When he released her chin, Maria sat back in her seat and stared out the window, watching the passing scenery. She held her silence for about two minutes before turning to Nic. "How long?"

"How long what?"

"How long do I have to stop talking for?" She just had to get that last word in. She smirked and went back to looking out the window.

He didn't answer but she sensed a definite release in tension in the back of the limo, like he was gradually becoming more comfortable with her presence. She honestly didn't know how she felt about him. On the surface he was grim, rude, entitled, and really scary. But she couldn't seem to convince her libido to be frightened. Her pulse sped with each touch and each look and she was starting to wonder what kind of experience she would have in his bed.

Maria was a passionate woman. She enjoyed sex, though it had been a long time since she had any. And though Nic was definitely a bad boy, he wasn't her type in any other way. Her boyfriends were usually more like her, happy, full of life, eager to gain new experiences. Nic was sarcastic and dark, she suspected a terrifying depth to the man that she had no desire to delve into.

"We're here," he informed her about twenty minutes later.

Maria shifted in her seat to look through the windshield. They were approaching a big gate set in an even bigger wall, which went on as far as she could see. The car paused only long enough for the gates to open. Two men stood on either side of the gate. No one said a word to them or the driver as they passed through. She supposed they were expected and that's why no one checked the vehicle. Still, she thought as a security team, they should maybe check for bombs under the car, or frisk her, the unknown and possibly very dangerous stranger. Or was she watching too much TV? Maybe that's not how mafia security worked.

Glancing at Nic out of the side of her eye she decided he was probably the scariest thing on the property. No one would want to stop or question him.

The vehicle rolled up in front of a gorgeous mansion. It looked both modern and old-fashioned at the same time. It was cottage style, but huge and sprawling too. A massive garage was attached to the side of the house and she could see at least two other buildings on the property. She supposed one of them was the guardhouse Nic had been talking about earlier.

As soon as they got out of the car, the door to the mansion opened and a woman came flying out. She had long, wavy hair, in some shade between brown and blond. The sun caught it as she descended the stairs and turned it a shining gold. Her face was chiselled perfection, almost masculine, but the depth of beauty stopped her features from being too strong for her gender. Long slim legs peeked out from a high slit in her skirt.

She was the epitome of elegance, a blend of Miami cool in her bikini top, but high fashion in the colourful wrap that both hugged and floated around her perfect body. Maria hated everything about her, from the top of her perfectly coifed head to the bottom of her manicured feet in sandaled high heels. She had to be Cassandra, Nic's wife.

Maria was pondering why the heck Nic would need a mistress when he had this vision of perfection under his roof when the woman hurtled toward the car and into Luke's arms. The bodyguard enveloped her without a single glance at his boss and laid a quick, hard kiss on her full lips.

What. The. Actual. Fuck?

Maria was beyond confused. Especially when Nic came around the side of the car, took Maria's arm and escorted her toward the house. Maria gaped at the passionate couple in the driveway as they headed indoors. Maybe she wasn't Nic's wife, but Luke's woman? Yet, the elegant beauty looked exactly like the woman of a house like this might look.

"Take it off the driveway," Nic growled as they passed the couple. "Too easy for someone with a long-lens camera."

He didn't wait for a response but pulled Maria up the stairs and into the mansion. She tried to twist around for another glimpse of the woman, but she was inside the house before she had a chance to see anything more. She blinked several times to adjust her eyes from the bright Florida sun. Before she had a proper chance to look around, Luke and his woman came sailing in behind them.

"Luke, get someone to bring the bags in, and Cassandra, you take care of Maria," Nic said as he dropped Maria's arm and strode away.

Maria gaped after him, alternately bewildered and pissed that he'd dragged her more than halfway across the country only to ditch her once they arrived.

Cassandra stepped up to Maria and took her arm, she leaned down from her much greater height and spoke in Maria's ear as Nic disappeared, "Welcome to casa DeLuca."

Chapter Twelve

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