Page 47 of The Thief

I remove my jacket and toss it on the room’s only chair. “Your neighbor let me into the building, and I picked your front door’s lock.” I make a mental note to get Leo to upgrade her security. My thieving days are long behind me, but it was still laughably easy to enter her apartment. She needs significantly better locks.

“I should call the police.”

I laugh out loud. “And how are you going to explain the Titian in your bag? Are you planning on telling them you took it from my bedroom?” I shake my head. “I thought we reached an understanding about my painting, tesoro. What brought on this attempt?”

“We didn’t have an understanding about the Titian,” she snaps. “And besides, you put a tail on me. That’s both creepyandinvasive. What the fuck, Antonio?”

I should have told her. I didn’t because I was being a coward. Security guards are going to be a reality of her life if she gets involved with me, and I was afraid that when she realized that, she’d balk.

And now she’s furious, and this is on me. I deserve it.

“A few weeks ago, I was approached by a member of the Russian mafia. They wanted to smuggle guns through Venice, and I said no.”

I stop to unknot my tie. “Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of things. We’re in a conflict right now, and open warfare might be around the corner.”

She frowns. “The ship that exploded in the harbor, that was you?”

“Yes. I thought it was a Russian ship bringing in smuggled guns. It wasn’t.” That mistake still eats at me.

“And the crew? What happened to them?” She gives me a troubled look. “The newspapers said there were no casualties. Is that true? Did they survive?”

“It is. I didn’t have proof that the crew was involved, and so they were allowed to escape.”

I meet her gaze squarely. “You are important to me, Lucia. If something were to happen to you, I would react. . . poorly.” Talk about a fucking understatement. “We’ve been seen together in public. Your building has no security. The neighbors immediately below you are a couple in their eighties. The man who lives below them works in Switzerland during ski season. His apartment is presently empty. You’re an easy target. The security detail is for your protection.”

“Oh.” She digests my answer. “You should have told me.”

“Yes, I should have.” I undo my cuffs. “I’m sorry I didn’t.” My voice hardens. “However, if you want me to apologize for worrying about your safety, that’s not going to happen. I am never going to apologize for protecting you. Not ten years ago, not now.”

Her eyes track the movements of my hands. “What are you doing?”

I’ve been honest and open with her, but I’m done apologizing. And now it’s time to remind her who I am, and who we are together. My lips tilt up in a smile. “I warned you there would be consequences if you tried to steal my painting.” I start to unbutton my shirt. “Remember?”

Her eyes go wide as she remembers my promise. “You’re going to fuck me,” she accuses. “Whether I want to or not.”

I roll my eyes. “Is that what you’re telling yourself? That you don’t want this? What a convenient lie.” I wave my hand at her front door. “I’m not stopping you from leaving, Lucia, and I’m not trapping you in here.” I pull my shirt free from the waistband and toss it aside. “Stay with honesty, little thief, or go. The choice is yours.”

25

LUCIA

Ihatehim.

Iwanthim.

Antonio called my bluff, and it’s driving meinsane.

But I can’t let him walk out of here. I don’t want to.

“This is my apartment,” I spit out. “You’re the one who should be leaving.”

Antonio didn’t get to where he was by being a fool; he recognizes the consent in my words. His eyes turn hot. “Come here.”

Instead of doing the smart thing and walking out, I take a step toward him, and the king of Venice closes the gap between us.

He slams me against the wall. My back digs into the stucco, but I don’t care. His fingers lace with mine, and he transfers his grip to my wrists, lifting my hands above my head and caging me in with the hard press of his body. His mouth finds mine, and then he drags his lips down my neck, kissing the hollow of my throat, his mouth warm against my skin.

“Tell me why you’re still here,” he growls.

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