Page 45 of Where Dark Hearts Devour
Despite the fact my brother wouldn’t even think to have anyone keep an eye on this hot mess, we both know he wouldn’t inform her if he had. I can’t help the sadistic smile turning up a corner of my mouth.
“Yeah, well, he asked me to let you know.”
She sits still and chews on her bottom lip. I want to pull it from between her teeth, because it’s a nice bottom lip, and it doesn’t deserve to be eaten.
“Scaring off my best friend and holding a gun to some poor, innocent guy’s head isn’t ‘keeping an eye on me,’ Cristiano.”
“What is it then?”
She considers her response before—quite frankly—impressing me with her bravery. “It’s blind irrationality. Idiotic bravado. It’s throwing your weight around in a place where you know no one’s going to stop you ...”
I spin the wheel and pull the car up short. She presses back into the seat when I lean into her.
“You don’t have the faintest clue who I am, do you?” I say quietly.
“Yes,” she whispers. “You’re the brother of a don.”
I shake my head. “I’m more than that, Castellano. I’m thesonof a don. I was born into this life. I know every governor’s gambling secret, every fucking fed’s indiscretion,andI have Mafia blood running through my veins. There’s nothing in this world more lethal than someone who can manipulate a prosecutor and a .45 with zero emotion and equal finesse. If I’m blinded by anything this second, it’s you. And if I’m an idiot, I dare you to say that right now, to my face, because God help me, I’ve seen you cry, andfuck, it’s pretty.”
She presses those lips together and swallows. Damn right she’s tongue-tied. She needs to know who she’s dealing with, because I’ve seen her up close and personal with another man,and I almost killed him. It’s for her own fucking protection that she knows.
I can’t save her from me, but I can save her from herself.
Her breaths are short and—damn it—delicious, and there’s nothing I want more in this moment than to taste them. But I’m also furious. At her and, right now, the fucking world.
So I settle back into my seat, thanking God I’m still wearing my jacket, because it’s the only thing shielding my rock-hard erection from her flittering eyes as I pull back out onto the road.
Most of the house is dark when we arrive. Only one light glows, and I assume it’s from her father’s office.
She walks behind me as I approach the door to the apartment, but before she opens it, I turn to her.
“What was number one?”
She blinks again. I wish she wouldn’t do that, because it makes me lose track of thought.
“Go to bed.”
I arch my brows and glance at the door. “So go.”
She anchors her feet to the ground and wraps her arms around herself. “I want to know what you’re going to say to my father.”
I regard her as plainly as I can. “What I’m going to say to your father is none of your business.”
She lowers her gaze to the ground. “Please, Cristiano.”
I raise my face to the sky, shove my hands deep into my pockets, and release a long breath. “I want him to keep a closer eye on you.” I roll my head toward her. “It’s for your own sake.”
She has the good sense not to argue as she looks up at me.
“You need to slow down on the drinking, okay? It’s not a good look on anyone, in my opinion, but you ... You seem less able than most to handle it.”
She rubs a hand over her face, and to my surprise, she doesn’t object. “You’re right. I can’t handle it. Which is exactly why I do it.”
“It has to stop, Castellano, before you really hurt yourself.”
“Why do you care if I hurt myself?” she whispers.
My throat tightens. “I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”
