Page 2 of Kissing the Villain

“No. You won’t hurt me.”

He raised an eyebrow, a wicked smirk tugging at his mouth. “What makes you so certain?”

I bit my lip to stop it from trembling, and his face contorted into something sinister. His eyes fell to my mouth like he wanted to take my lip between his teeth. A man like Luca wouldn’t give me a sweet kiss or a peck on the cheek. He would make every second hurt as he branded my lips with his sinful touch.

“Use your words,” Luca demanded. “Or I’ll punish you for being a bad girl.”

“I’m not a bad girl,” I shot back with fire behind my words.

“No? Because I think there’s a little devil hidden beneath your beautiful exterior.” His long fingers inched down my arm, flames scorching my skin. “And I think she wants to come out and play.”

Luca inspected my face like he wouldn’t be satisfied until he discovered my darkest secrets. A monster lurked in the shadows. He couldn’t fool me. I’d known enough evil people to see right through him.

Luca Salvatore didn’t care what anyone thought about him. He wanted people to see the ugliness inside him. It was easier to push someone away before they got too close than to let them into my life, only to end up disappointed. After years of having no control, I needed it. And I could tell Luca needed it, too.

“What happened to your back?”

He turned away, his eyes on the balcony to our left. “You don’t want to know.”

A warm breeze blew in through the French doors that led to a large patio overlooking the bay. His jaw looked even harder from the side, all clean lines and sharp edges. My fingers itched for the chance to sketch every detail of his face.

“Art tells the truth, even when people lie,” I said, quoting his deceased mother, Evangeline Franco, a world-famous painter and my idol.

Luca’s head snapped to me, and heat rushed down my arms from the intensity on his face. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to kiss me or kill me. Knowing his family, I assumed the latter. They were more affluent than gods, but the Salvatores made money from illegal activities.

“You don’t have to hide from me, Luca.”

Standing painfully still, he clenched his fists. I shot up from the bed, and he towered over me, well over six feet tall.

Feeling brave, I placed my hands on his strong shoulders. “Let me see you.”

I wasn’t talking about the scars on his back. I wanted to know what made Luca Salvatore tick. What were his hopes and dreams, his strengths and his weaknesses? I wondered why my heart beat differently when I looked into his eyes and felt connected to him in ways I could not explain.

“I see you too,” he said, his voice deep and smooth. “You know what it’s like to hide the truth. Don’t you?”

“I won’t hurt you, Luca.”

Madness danced across his blue irises. “Maybe I want you to.”

2

ALEX

Hesitant to barehimself to me, Luca sighed as he turned around. I stifled my gasp. The sight of his scars up close was heartbreaking. My mind drifted to someone hitting him with a belt buckle until his skin cracked open—someone slashing into his flesh with knives. A few were from cigar burns.

I wondered how he had survived years of torture. He flinched and hissed when I placed my hand on his lower back. Long and jagged, the worst scar ripped a tear from my eye, wetting his skin.

Luca groaned, then turned to face me.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to?—”

He swiped his thumb beneath my eye. “Don’t cry for me. I don’t deserve your tears.”

Luca buttoned his shirt, staring at me as if deciding what to do with me, and then opened the door. He held my hand as we descended the stairs that dumped us into the Butlers’ kitchen. The staff was busy plating entrees, everything from chicken and fish to steak and lobster. My stomach rumbled from the delicious scents.

Luca stole a bottle of champagne from the refrigerator. A woman wearing a white apron and chef’s hat saw him andturned her head, pretending not to notice us. I could tell by his attitude that he got away with murder. No one would challenge the son of Arlo Salvatore.

We moved outside to an expansive veranda made of Tuscan paving stone. Everyone wore a costume to match the party’s theme. Some women looked ethereal in fairy dresses and tulle skirts, their faces painted with glitter and gold.

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