Page 22 of Her Dark Salvation

The way he’d spoken to me, the way he’d commanded me to serve him, had put me into a rage of righteous feminism. But two glasses of Sangiovese later, I was horrified to admit that as much as it still pissed me off, it turned me on. I had zero desire to examine the reasons why; I wasn’t sure I’d like the answer.

Marco DeVita was domineering and inappropriate and devastatingly handsome. But he was my boss, and I wasn’t about to harbor any fantasies about a man who was my gateway to a fresh start at my career. No way. Everything between me and Mr. DeVita would remain strictly professional. Simple as that.

ChapterSix

Marco

Asoft knock at the door interrupted my focus. It was Wednesday afternoon, and I was scrambling to finish my review of the construction contracts for my new property in Tuscany before I flew to Rome Friday to sign the paperwork.

“What is it?” I barked and noted my place on the page.

The door opened just enough for Anna to slip into my office. She stood in front of the door holding the handle behind her back. She’d removed the sweater she’d been wearing, and her chestnut hair spilled onto her white blouse, sheer enough and unbuttoned enough to draw my attention a beat too long. Annoyed by the interruption, the distraction of her breasts only added to my irritation, a reminder that her abilities came with unwelcome temptation.

Worry creased her forehead with deep lines, and her sun-kissed complexion was a shade paler than normal. Her eyes darted around the room, and the delicate skin of her neck bobbed beneath the pressure of a hard swallow.

Anna was a nervous woman, but that type of reaction didn’t come from nerves. It came from fear.

“What is it, Anna?”

“There’s—uh… There’s a Mr.—a Mr. Vincenzo Valenzano here to see you.”

What the fuck?

Almost a century of practice guarding my emotions was the only reason I didn’t yell that out loud. No wonder Anna looked like she’d seen a viper. She had. He was slinking around my foyer.

Vinnie knew better than to show up at Terme. In the middle of the day. Unannounced. Suspicion drove my irritation to a peak.

“Send him in.”

She frowned, but nodded, slipped out of the room, and left the door open behind her.

I had nothing to hide, not when it came to Vinnie, but Anna didn’t know that. All she knew was a man whose face she’d probably seen on the local news wanted to meet with her boss.

Vinnie sauntered into my office with all the confidence you’d expect from the Don of Boston. And a three-piece suit to match. His hair was more salt than pepper—he’d started graying when we were in our thirties—but his thick eyebrows were as dark as his blood-demon eyes.

I picked up my letter opener, held both ends loosely between my fingers, and leaned back in my chair. He flashed his wolfish smile, and the door clicked shut.

“What? No handshake? Nessun bacetto?”

“What do you want, Vinnie? And why the fuck did you come here to get it?”

He unbuttoned his suit jacket and lowered his ample frame into one of the chairs opposite my desk. He wasn’t as big as Big Frankie, but the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree. “You assume I want something.” He opened his arms. “Maybe I’m just here to invite you for caffè.”

“Spare me.”

He chuckled. “Speaking of caffè, can you ask your secretary to get us some from that restaurant of yours downstairs? I could use an espresso.”

The innocent request added another layer to my foul mood. Anna’d probably quit after this fiasco.

“Anna!”

She opened the door enough to peek in and eyed Vinnie like if she looked anywhere else, he might strike. “Yes, Mr. DeVita?”

“Mr. Valenzano would like an espresso from Vittoria.”

“Vittoria?”

“The restaurant downstairs.”

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