Page 52 of Sin & Secrets

Ialmost don’t believe my eyes when I find Rocco sitting on the couch in the brownstone lounge.

After a week of nothing but closed doors, I was beginning to think the Mafia don was a figment of my imagination.

Surely I had only dreamed of our night together. I’ve never encountered a man who knew how to eat me out so masterfully. Every touch a tease, every movement of his tongue, a calculated step toward the greatest climax of my life.

Disappearing afterward had been one thing, but being ignored in the days that followed had been torture. I felt like an idiot, looking up from my book at the smallest sound, pestering Donatella about his dinner plans.

It took an embarrassing amount of time for the truth to sink in: my obsession was entirely one-sided.

Now, he sits there with his whiskey, staring out of the window and looking more miserable than anyone I’ve ever seen. A vicious part of me tells me I should leave him alone to let him stew in his own displeasure.

But my feet have a mind of their own.

He looks up at my approach, dazed as if I’d jerked him away from whatever he was thinking about.

It’s unfair how breathtaking he is. His dark hair falls over his gray eyes with such effortless style that my heart already begins to throb in my chest.

I’m remembering the way he looked up at me through those bangs as his tongue plunged inside of me.

“Cassandra. I didn’t realize you were still awake.”

I glance at the clock. It is well past midnight, but my body is still struggling to adjust to a normal schedule.

He looks at me expectantly, so I just shrug. “I was thinking about taking you up on your offer.”

“Which one?”

“Donatella tells me your home in South Africa is gorgeous. If you’re going to avoid me for the entirety of my stay here, I think I’d prefer to be somewhere warmer.”

“You want to leave.” He gives me a blank, unreadable look.

“I want to uphold my end of the bargain without boring myself to death in the process.”

That part was, at the very least, true. Beyond reading and working out in the albeit very well-equipped gym, there had been very little to occupy my time.

“Is the house not to your liking?”

“It’s more an issue with the host, actually,” I bite back.

He starts at that, then smiles into his drink. “Ah.”

“I thought we might have come to an understanding the other day.”

“While I lay between your legs, you mean?”

I flush at the memory. “When I asked to be involved in your scheme against Claudio.”

“If memory serves, I agreed to involve you atmydiscretion.”

I narrow my eyes. “I see, so is hiding in your bedroom part of this scheme that I’m not allowed to know about?”

He says nothing to this, seemingly intent on ignoring me despite the fact I’m now looming over him.

Fine. If he’s going to act like a child, so will I. I reach over and snatch the glass from his hand. He watches me intently as I take a sip, then another, to settle my nerves. I don’t stop until it’s empty, and I slam it back down on the table before him.

He doesn’t flinch. He just stares at my mouth.

How can this man be so hot and cold with me? I thought he wanted to ignore me, to pretend what happened never did. But it's so hard to tell what he's thinking when he looks at me like that.

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