Page 29 of Devious Kingpin
Panic, never.
“Breathe, Juliette,” I ordered, locking gazes with her blue eyes. “Breathe.” She inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled. “Good. Again.”
I watched her as she did it again. And again. Slowly the panic faded, replaced with her customary feistiness. Or maybe it was a façade she kept firmly in place to hide something dark underneath all that stubbornness.
“What?” she snapped. “Why are you staring at me?”
I studied her, taking note of her breathing. The redness of her chest. There were still traces of a blush staining her pale skin, evidence of her arousal before she panicked. Just as my balls ached painfully and my dick was hard as marble. But there was no chance in hell we’d go any further until I learned what triggered it.
Last night, under the influence, I had a hard time keeping her hands off my body. She groped me and insisted on stripping our clothes off. Not that I minded. She even insisted on helping to disarm me, stating my gun holster looked so sexy on me.
I’d wear that fucking gun holster to bed if she found it sexy. Maybe then she’d find me irresistible like I did her.
I made my way back to the bed and sat down. She was still naked, wrapped up only in a fluffy white towel, hiding her body from my view.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked her.
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what you mean. Talk about what?”
She knew exactly what I meant. She seemed to forget who I was. I was used to seeing fear on people’s faces. They feared me because of my name, Syndicate skull tattoo, and who I represented. The Syndicate. The underworld.
Juliette shifted on her feet uncomfortably when I refused to play her game.
I raised my hand, pointing to the ring on my finger. “I’m your husband. Remember your vows from last night. Thou shall not lie, cheat, and steal.”
“Aren’t those part of the Ten Commandments?”
“You insisted on making up your own vows,” I told her dryly. Juliette under the influence was a force to be reckoned with. “Something about if I must steal, then I should steal away your sorrows. So here I am, stealing away your sorrows.”
An unreadable expression passed her face, but then she quickly gathered herself together and rolled her eyes.
“Whatever, there’s nothing to talk about.” Although this time, her voice wasn’t as sure as all the times before.
I’d break through her walls. We’d been playing this game for two years now, but that road had come to an end. She was my wife now. My ring was on her finger, and whether she liked it or not, I’d get to the bottom of her fear.
It was my job to protect her.
CHAPTER15
Juliette
Of all the scenarios, this had to be the worst one.
My eyes kept darting between his finger and mine. The wedding rings. A simple black band on his finger and a platinum band with black diamonds on mine. The diamond, on what was presumably my engagement ring, was beautiful. Except, I couldn’t remember a single damn thing that happened to get it on my finger.
Shocked prickles spread over every inch of my skin. I returned my attention to the well-dressed Italian, his eyes resting cautiously on me. Suddenly, I felt parched. My tongue darted out to wet my lips.
“What happened last night?” I asked cautiously. Dante reached to the bedside table where a fresh cup of Starbucks coffee sat in the paper cup holder, then held it out to me and I took it, our fingers brushing together. “Did we—” I couldn’t even finish the statement. God, we might have had sex and I couldn’t even remember. Fuck! There was one thing that was certain to be a glorious memory and that was sex with this man. Or maybe I panicked and embarrassed myself, just as I had a few minutes ago. “Did we have sex?”
Dante shrugged. I took it as a yes and pushed my hand through my dark hair.
“Oh my God,” I rasped. “I can’t even remember it.” I gripped my hair as if that would pull memories from some dark corner of my mind. Maybe I should look at the bright side of things. If I slept with him and he was still alive, apparently, it must have gone okay. I didn’t punch him. Or bite him, as far as I could see.
He’d remember that. Right?
“I can’t remember anything,” I repeated in a whisper.
Then horror shot through me and my eyes widened. If I opened my mouth, sex with Dante would be the last thing to worry about. I watched him cautiously, studying his masked expression. That was the thing with Dante. You could never tell what he was thinking. Either to fuck you or kill you.
