Page 38 of The Mafia Assassin's Redemption
“Did you know that spectators used to stand around the bed to watch the act?” I ask softly. “I can get them down here if you’d rather have an audience.”
“You’re vile.”
“Am I?” I remove the ribbons from the flowers she hit me with on her way down. The satin is stained with blood but I don’t mind. Blood has been part of my world for as long as I can remember. It still is even though I’m mostly behind acomputer these days. I still do quiet jobs, assassinations when needed, for Cal.
But we don’t do hits for hire outside the family, and the one I did for her by killing Bernardo? That was just part of my self-imposed penance to keep her safe.
Now we’re here, standing in front of the bed. Face-to-fucking-face and she’s both nothing like I thought and better than I could imagine.
She says I’m vile, but the little twist at the end of the word hooks into my flesh.
I take one of her hands and use the ribbon to cover the cut on her hand. Shockingly, she lets me.
“Are you sure you’re not a little vile too? Because I can hear it.”
“Hear what?” she asks, fingers curling in over mine a little, and that movement ignites nerve endings up my arm.
“The change in your breathing.” I tie the ribbon and tuck in the ends, then lift her hand. “The excitement and intrigue that makes your cheeks flush.”
I kiss her palm.
She snatches her hand away. “I don’t want to be watched, you sicko. And I don’t want to have sex with you.”
She does, on both counts.
And I can’t say it doesn’t send a jolt to my groin. There’s a small part of me that likes voyeuristic acts. I’ve fucked submissives in a club in front of people. I once whipped one with a penchant for pain and blood play, then rewarded her with my cock in her mouth.
Most of my sexual experiences, other than the ones with Siobhan, have been in sex clubs.
It’s just tidier that way.
But the thought of being watched while I fuck Harry… Christ, I could get off on the mental picture alone.
I quickly tie the second ribbon around my wounded hand, using my teeth and other hand to knot it.
Maybe there’s a way to fake the sex.
But they won’t be happy with just dripping blood on a sheet. They might not have the portable lab I joked about, but that’s because in the past, during these types of ceremonies, they put a special compound in the sheet fabric. One that turns red to show the fluids exchanged and the act completed.
It changes over a few hours, from what my research has told me, and by the time I have her virginity, I’m not sure I’ll ever let her go, no matter what she thinks or says.
For a moment, my vision wavers as I turn away from her and walk over to a table where a bottle of vanilla-scented rum sits. I pour a glass for myself, then one for her. I down mine and refill the glass while settling my mind and grasping the remaining shreds of self-control I have left.
I mean, I won’t ever let her go until she’s safe, and then I’ll make fucking sure she’s a long way from here with a brand-new name and life.
A name I don’t know.
I’m not my brother. I’m not about to fall for a girl who fucking despises me.
Callahan, a man who limits emotions and keeps them tightly reeled in, fell for his wife. He’ll do anything, kill anyone who needs it, to protect his Lucie.
I used to think the two of us were cut from the same cloth, but it turns out the scissors were different.
He loves.
I don’t.
Not anymore.
