Page 39 of Ruthless King
“I’m not lying, you can check the footage—” His mouth snaps shut, and unease prickles across my spine.
“There’s a camera in my bedroom?”
“I told you there was … just not in the bathroom.” A smirk crawls across his lips as embarrassment steamrolls over me.
Oh God, please don’t tell me he saw when I …. The thought is too horrifying to complete even in my mind.
“Don’t worry, princess, this was the first time you’ve cried out my name in bed. But hopefully not the last.”
I reach for a pillow and chuck it at the smirkingbastardo. He ducks, and the fluffy projectile sinks to the floor.
“We’ll have to work on your aim so you can defend yourself better next time.”
“Next time?” My tone hitches up a notch.
“I meant because of the mugger, not that you’ll find me in your bed again. Unless you ask that is.”
“I willneverask that of you.”Liar. A dark voice in my mind calls me out on the bullshit.
“Never say never, princess.” He rises, revealing that ripped torso and the swirl of mesmerizing tattoos. My eyes instinctively drop to take in every inch of his caramel-skinned perfection.Dammit. He saunters toward the door but spins back at the last second. His easy expression hardens, jaw clenching. “About that thief… you’ll never have to worry about him or anyone else hurting you again.” A lethal ferocity skates through his tone, thickening his accent, and the hair on the back of my neck prickles. Not just at the sound but the familiarity.
My eyes close, and I’m back on the subway platform, the cement digging into my knees and Bo’s fingers twisted in my hair. That voice.
“Itwasyou,” I whisper.
His eyes widen, a hint of surprise flashing before his demeanor returns to neutral. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“In the subway, with that asshole Bo Zhang about two weeks ago.”
The corners of his eyes crinkle, lending a hint of humor to his dark gaze. “I’m not in the habit of taking the subway, princess. Too many scumbags.”
My chest tightens with an unfamiliar emotion. It’s been years since I’ve felt cared for, no, taken care of. After the cancer ripped through Mom and then Vinny’s attack, I was the one who held us together, who stepped in when Dad was too drunk to see straight. And in only a few days with this man, he’s managed to fill a void I hadn’t even realized was there. A man who’s holding me captive against my will.
Dio, I ampazza.
Luca watches me from across the room for a long moment, midnight irises smoldering. The air crackles between us, an electric charge filling the space. It was him, I’m certain. Heat zips over every inch of my body as that scrutinizing gaze rakes over me. That look is like a lethal caress, the intensity enough to send warmth pooling between my legs.
Madonna, it should be illegal.
“What?” I finally blurt because in a second I’ll melt into a puddle from that piercing stare.
“I like my shirt on you.” His jaw clamps shut the moment the words are out, as if they’d escaped without his approval. He drags his hand through his hair and mutters something I can’t quite make out. “You did get the suitcase of clothes Mickey dropped off?”
I nod. “Yeah, I think Magda put it in the closet.” I chew on my lower lip for another second before muttering, “Thanks for that.”
“So why are you still wearing my shirt?” His dark brow lifts, and amusement brings a twinkle to his eyes.
I shrug. “I didn’t even notice I had it on.”Lie. “I must have grabbed it off the floor last night in the dark without thinking. I was exhausted ….” I stop talking because the twist at the corners of his mouth tells me he’s not buying it. Hell, I know I don’t. I’d never admit it to the arrogant mob boss, but his scent calms the raging storm of nerves. It must have been because he was the one that picked me up off the streets after that robber assaulted me. It’s misplaced hero-syndrome or something. That’s a thing, right?
He steps closer, and my spine snaps to attention.Cazzo, my whole body does, forcing me to stand. “I meant what I said before, I took care of thatpezzo di merda. No one touches what’s mine.”
My core clenches, and I release a shuddering breath. I should be insulted by the way he talks about me, like I’m nothing more than a toy, one of his shiny possessions. But the dark glimmer in his eye, the curve of his lips, the hard clench of his jaw has heat racing below.
To distract myself from the ache, I blurt the first thing that comes to mind. “Did you kill him?” I was too young to remember much about mynonno, Michele Esposito, but his reputation preceded him. Even though Mom had never been in the business, I’d grown up hearing countless stories. I knew what happened when you crossed the big boss.
He stalks closer still, and my body thrums with anticipation. He towers over me, the sinister curl of his lips doing unspeakable things to my insides. His warm breath ghosts over my mouth. “Did you want me to?” he whispers, the question much more seductive than it has any right to be.
My pulse accelerates, vision blurring as I’m back on that crowded street. The man barrels into me, holds a gun on me and then I’m falling. I hit the floor and my mind swims, the edges of my vision darkening. I’m catapulted back in time to a similar smack, to all the times my father took out his drunken rage on me. For a second, I thought I was going to pass out. Did the guy deserve to die for that? Probably not, but a deep, dark part of me wants to say yes. I finally shake my head.
