Page 13 of Runaway in the Mafia
Her throat bobbed slowly, but her lips tightened, refusing to spill anything out.
I couldn’t get myself to decide if I liked her disobedience or not.
“Answer the fucking question.”
My words had been quiet, but she flinched as if I’d screamed. Was she that scared? Then she worked her throat, and her words defied her body. “None of your business.”
Her fucking attitude wasn’t helping her. Or me. I took one step forward. She jumped back one. Back to zero. Another step. She remained. Unnaturally frozen. Her gaze fixated on the buttons of my dress shirt.
Fuck, she’s close.
If she tipped her head, our lips would be inches apart. She was tall for a girl, but perfect for me. With her heels on, her head fell just under my chin. Her hair looked like a layer of the finest silk on her back. My hands itched to crawl all over it.
It was a pull I couldn’t resist. My head wasn’t thinking, and my index finger was moving. Her chin tipped. Her breathing hitched. But fuck, she didn’t back out. Even if unease flittered across her face, she stood her ground. Pure electricity sizzled between us. It made the cracked stones in the hall heat up like rocks in a sauna. Arousal hit me like a punch to my gut.
“What did I tell you about disobeying me?” My mind shambled. “Did you?”
“What?”
Her snappy tone was underlined with nervous energy. It did nothing to cool the tension in my pants. Faintly, Lia’s voicefiltered through in the background. I shouldn’t have been doing this. Didn’t need another lousy cross in Mamma’s book. But I couldn’t find the will to let go. Her skin was soft. Warm.
“Disobey me.”
An annoyed frown wrinkled her forehead. “You’re not my husband. I can do whatever the hell I please.”
“Ahana?” Lia’s voice floated around the corner. A second after, I let go of her chin and shifted away from her. She stumbled away from me. Her hair slipped past my suited arm. A jolt of need sparked through me.
Lia appeared, and she lunged onto her like a long-lost sister. She was out of sight a second later, but her sweet scent remained. On my fingers and etched into my memory.
Would she obey me if I were her husband?
CHAPTER SEVEN
VITALE
“She knows enough.”
What the fuck did that mean?
The scent of books lining the wall did nothing to soothe me. I was a ball of agitation. Coiled inside me. Seeping at my edges. I strummed my fingers on my thigh, hidden from view. My other hand rested on my desk as I lounged back. A facade of nonchalance. Lazy and relaxed.
My days seemed to be full of shit I shouldn’t do or say. Shouldn’t have fucking cornered her, stepped into her space and seen that little nerve pulsing in the dip of her collarbone. I certainly shouldn’t have inhaled her scent because now it was all over me. No matter how many times I washed my hands, the scent followed me everywhere. It was demonic. A fucking distraction. During my meetings, when I held my Glock, or in between my sheets at night. I wasn’t proud of it. I had jerked off to that scent. Not her, though. She was nothing I hadn’t seen before.Nothing.
Antonio stared at me with his laser beam eyes. “Why’d you want to know?”
And I certainly shouldn’t have asked him if his wife knew anything about the runaway girl. I wasn’t calling her by her name. She was just a runaway girl.
I stared at him. My face void of emotion. Antonio was my cousin on Mamma’s side. His father, Mamma’s brother, was a contradiction to my paternal uncles. He had been a saint because the man had stayed faithful until he was six feet under, even if his wife had been a bitch. I weighed my words before I let them fall from my mouth.
“She’s under my roof.”
“Thought this wasn’t your house?”
The perceptive jerk. “It’s mine alright.”
“Since when?”
“Since… always.”
