Page 42 of Their Reckless Thief
At the sound of approaching footsteps, I did my best to compose myself, rolling my shoulders back and pushing the bottle aside. I’d texted Luca and Dorian, and they were fully aware of what Celeste had tried to accomplish in my fucking house.
Dorian was almost as white as a ghost, with no trace of his shit-eating grin or smirk. Luca was stoic as ever, but I could tell. I could always tell. Beneath that cool exterior, he was rattled. I saw it when his eyes darted briefly to mine before he settled into his usual mask of indifference. He was angry because he’d been getting attached, too. Fucking idiot. I was glad I acted when I did.
Why would ahumanwoman affect all three of us like this in such a short amount of time?
I didn’t need to ask if they were thinking about the same thing I was. I could read it on their faces.
“Sit,” I ordered, though neither of them moved. I let out a frustrated sigh and paced toward the window. “I want a detail on her at all times.”
Dorian’s face lost even more color, if that was possible. “You’re serious?”
“She’s dangerous,” I lied through my teeth, though the truth gnawed at the back of my mind. “She knows too much. If she sells the information she has, we’re done. The Shadow will know our next move before we even make it.”
But that wasn’t the real reason, and we all knew it. It wasn’t just to keep an eye on her. It was to keep hersafe… safe from herself, safe from anyone else who might want a piece of her.
But why the fuck do I care about that?
I hated how much the thought twisted inside me, the foreign ache of it.
Luca nodded slowly. “I’ll see to it,” he said, neither his silver eyes nor his voice betraying any conflict. But I could see past his calm exterior. He wasn’t entirely on board with this, even if he wouldn’t say it outright.
Dorian, on the other hand, looked...broken.Like I’d taken something from him, snatched away his favorite toy, and now he didn’t know what to do with himself. He pressed his lips into a thin line, then shot me a look that almost bordered on resentment.
“You sure that’s what you want?” he asked quietly. “Because it sure as fuck doesn’t sound like it.”
I glared at him. “Are you questioning me, Dorian?”
His eyes met mine, and I waited for him to push back. After a beat, he shook his head, the fight draining out of him. “No, boss. Just... trying to understand.”
“Good,” I snapped, turning my back on them. “I’ve already told Camilla and Alessandro. Celeste will have eyes on her at all times.”
“Understood,” Luca said. His voice was even, but there was a heaviness in it that lingered in the room.
I dismissed them with a flick of my hand, then strode out of my study before they even had a chance to depart. I needed to clear my head.No,I needed to fuckingdestroysomething. The pent-up frustration inside me had no outlet, no escape.
I headed to the training room, the fury inside propelling every step. The moment I walked through the door, I started undressing, tossing my clothes into a pile as I stepped into the shower room to change. All I could see was her. Celeste. Her fucking eyes. Her fucking pouty lips. Those fucking curves. Her wet hair clinging to her shoulders.
Fuck.
I yanked a pair of training shorts on, clenching and unclenching my fists as I glared at my reflection. I looked the same as always—cold, calculating, and dangerous. But inside? Inside, I was a fucking mess.
Snarling under my breath, I strode toward the punching bag and started landing blow after blow, each strike harder than the last. I pummeled it, letting all my rage out.
Her fucking lips. Her perfect body. That damnmouthof hers, always ready with some smart-ass comment that got under my skin. Every time she opened her mouth, I wanted to kiss her or kill her. And that ass... fuck, that ass. The scent of her made me ravenous, and I ran my tongue over my fangs.
You’re losing it, Vincenzo.
I pounded the bag over and over, the chain above it rattling from the force. I couldn’t stop. The images of her kept flashing through my mind—her hips, the curve of her neck, the taste of her blood. The fucking mouthwatering taste of her arousal.
My knuckles split open against the leather, but I didn’t feel the pain. I welcomed it. It was better than thinking about her. Better thanwantingher.
But nothing worked. No amount of pain, no amount of punishment I inflicted on myself, could erase her from my mind. It was like she’d embedded herself in my brain, in my blood, and there was no fucking way to get rid of her. She was a craving I couldn’t satisfy.
I roared, tearing the punching bag clean off the chain and throwing it across the room. Even that didn’t help.
She was still there. Still lingering in every corner of my mind, tormenting me, making me question everything I thought I knew about myself. About control.
I leaned forward, resting my hands on my knees, sweat dripping down my forehead. She was tearing me apart, piece by fucking piece.
