Page 55 of The Thief

Oh, shit. Judging by Enzo’s tone, he clearly knows that Antonio heads up the mafia. Which makes this a very awkward meeting. Enzo is the chief of police, Antonio operates on the wrong side of the law, and the two of them are glaring at each other as if they’re about to start throwing punches.

I need to act before Enzo gets hurt.

I slide out of my seat. “I need a drink,” I tell Antonio. “Buy me one?”

He inclines his head in agreement, and we walk to the bar. A hush has fallen over the room. The show is still going on, but every set of eyes is on Antonio. Unlike most of the men here, he’s dressed casually in dark slacks and a sweater. His hair is tousled, and his eyes look tired.

But no matter how he’s dressed or how weary he appears, everyone at Casanova knows that Antonio isthepower in Venice. They’re watching him because it would be folly to ignore the apex predator in their midst.

He pays for my drink, then draws me into a quiet corner. “You didn’t answer my question, Lucia,” he says silkily. “Are you really surprised to see me? Because I don’t think you are.”

He steps closer, and I take an instinctive step back and hit a pillar. There is nowhere to run, something I should have remembered before provoking the beast.

But running is the last thing I want to do.

“I think,” he continues, “that you knewexactlywhat you were doing. You knew that my men were following you. The moment you walked into this club, you knew I would find out.” He puts his hand under my chin and tilts my head up, his thumb running over my lip. “I told you to call me, but instead, here you are, playing a very dangerous game. Isn’t that right, little thief?”

I swallow. He’s in a dangerous mood, and I love it. Even though I’m the one who told him to leave, all week long, it’s felt like a giant hand is squeezing my heart. But now Antonio’s here, and the pressure is gone. I’m giddy and breathless with anticipation.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you?” His hand cups my throat. “You came to Casanova, knowing what my reaction would be. You wanted to make me jealous, tesoro?”

I was too much of a coward to call him, but I did want to see him again. Did I subconsciously agree to visit Casanova in the hopes that I’d see him here? Did I plan on forcing his hand? Maybe. I don’t know. Probably.

“Are you jealous?” I whisper.

“Yes,” he replies, looking a little disgruntled by his admission. “Dante told me you were here, and I charged over here like a fucking fool, only to see you sitting at a table, laughing with Enzo. You’re playing with fire, Lucia.”

The room recedes to the background. People are still watching us, and I don’t care. There’s only one person that matters right now, and it’s the man standing in front of me, looking like wicked sin and temptation.

“Am I going to get burned?”

He takes the drink from my hand and sets it aside, then turns me so my back is pressed against his chest. His arm wraps around my waist and draws me into his body.

“You’re going to get punished, cara mia,” he says, his breath warm against my ear. His thumb slides over the swell of my breasts. “But only if you ask for it like a good girl.”

“Here?”

“Yes.”

He’s going to punish me. Will he pull me over his lap and spank me the way he did in my dreams? Or will he circle me slowly, a crop in his hand, while I wait nervously for its painful bite? I’m ready for it all.

The outline of his erection presses against his slacks. “What do you have in mind? Do you want me to suck your cock?”

His hand cups my ass. “No,” he corrects, his voice deliciously stern. “If you ask very nicely, I’llletyou suck my cock. But first, I’m going to insist you come on my fingers and my mouth.” His lips curve in a half-smile. “You know what you have to do.”

My pulse is racing, and my throat is dry. But I’ve never been more ready, more certain of a decision. “Please, Antonio,” I say, my heart thudding in my chest. “Please punish me.”

30

LUCIA

Antonio leads me to a private room. A club monitor walks us through the rules and then hands each of us a clipboard. There are several pages of disclaimers and legalese that we need to read and sign, but to my surprise, Antonio scrawls his signature on the bottom without even looking.

His inattention surprises me. “You’re not going to read it? Somehow, that doesn’t seem to match the picture I have of you.”

“I own the club,” he replies. “But more importantly, right now, I don’t give a fuck about paperwork.”

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