Page 18 of Lines Drawn
She nods. “I pointed that out to him, but you know Kieran. He is too…idealistic and naïve to see the bigger picture.”
Which is why he’s kept out of most of this. I won’t deny that the boy is…useful when I need men and resources, but his view on the world isn’t one that translates into the hardened criminal I need for this task.
The irony of Cecily being the better Second in Charge of this operation is that she’s supposed to be on theotherside of the law…
“What is your next move? They won’t succumb to the same trick again, not so soon. Neither would a raid work, after what happened at De Luca’s. Though if you’re patient enough, you can take the fact they’re in one place to your advantage… There’s nowhere else for them to run.”
Shaking my head, I push away from the desk and cross the room to the small bar off to the side. Pouring a drink, I mull over our options before turning back to her.
“I need you to set one more fire. They think they’re safe?” I grin and take a sip of my drink. “They may have moved from one location to another…but not everyone Cristian considers family did. Nothing and no one is safe, they should have learned that when I burned down their clinic…”
“He is probably with them at the Martellis’…if the rumors of one of them being hurt are true.”
“Yes,” I agree. “But not everyone in his family will be… De Luca was a casualty of war, and so will be‘Doc’s’family.”
“Ineed to be working. Or with Roman.” Hollis’s scowl doesn’t bother me, especially when it’s trying to cover the slight flush in his cheeks. None of us like to show vulnerability, but last night, he did. Now, he’s facing the consequences.
I lean back in my chair and stroke my beard as I stare at him. He sits perfectly still in what is normally my Emilio’s seat. It’s irksome. Still, I have to make this work—somehow.
“Ignacio is with Roman. And your work can wait for a moment. I think it’s best if we have a…chat.”
My face screws up on the last word and he snorts. “What? So you can ask me if I’m alright? I already talked to the doctor. Things are fine. I’m strong.”
Sighing, I clasp my hands together, trying to hide my own anxiety. I hope I’m doing a better job at it than he is right now.“I have no doubt you’re strong. If you weren’t, Emilio wouldn’t have gone to his knees for you.”
Hollis stiffens as he narrows his eyes at me. “I’m not going to apologize for giving the cucciolo what he needs.”
“Puppy,” I grumble derisively, shaking my head before waving it away. “That’s not what we need to discuss. It’s thefeelingsthat seem to have occurred—on both of your sides.”
Hollis quirks an eyebrow at me, and I try to pull in the ire surrounding me. The last thing we need is hostility. He carefully states, “It was impossible to do otherwise with him. And yes, he feels for me as well. He wouldn’t have taken me into your bed if he didn’t.”
“I know,” I acknowledge with a nod. I lapse into silence, unsure what to say next. When he doesn’t break it, I force myself to continue. “I respect you. That’s rare. Most people, I don’t respect or trust. But I trust your work, and respect you for it. I respect the fact you’re able to handle the relationships you do. Your partners are…interesting. It takes a firm—and steady—hand to manage that.
“However, you’re an unknown entity when it comes to my Boy. If it were any of the other Boys, this wouldn’t be so difficult, but you’ve gone for Emilio. More problematic, you both seem to desire a Dominant/submissive relationship. That type of connection is more than just two hearts on the line. You are responsible for his safety and, quite honestly, with the way he approaches it, he’s giving you his soul as well.”
Hollis takes a deep breath, but his gaze doesn’t waver. “I may not have been in a structured Dom/sub relationship before, but I would never do anything to harm Emilio—outside of how he likes to be hurt.”
“That is the issue. You say you wouldn’t, but I don’t know if I can extend my trust to include this. The way things work in this family is that I’m given their loyalty, and then upon my blessing,they can have their own relationships. But I always come first. I can’t give you the same rights. I can’t put you on the same level as me. It’s not who I am—it’s not the Martelli way.”
Hollis doesn’t respond as he drops his eyes to the bandages covering his arm. I’m sure he’s trying to hide, but it’s impossible. I watch every emotion flit over his face, before he tries to settle behind a cold mask. “I cannot give you submission. Not after what I’ve been through.”
“Then we have a problem,” I retort sharply. “There’s no way I can let you have my Emilio without you proving you’ll submit to me.”
“The only way I can prove it is by showing you. I’ll never submit, it’s not possible. It’s not who I am. I can’t—won’t—compromise myself for you. And ask yourself this: would you really trust me with your Boy if I was the type to bow so easily to the demands of others?”
Fuck. He does have a point, and I hate him for it. My Emilio needs strength. And while there’s strength in submission, it’s not what I want for him. Trust. It’s so much more than loyalty at that point.
Growling, I stand up abruptly, my chair flying back. I stalk around the desk until I’m towering over him, but he doesn’t cower. Neither does he stand. He sits there, waiting. The silence in the room is oppressive. It’s crushing me, and from the small amount of sweat on his forehead, he feels it too—even if he’s refusing to yield.
Bending down until I’m eye-to-eye with him, I slam my hands against the arms of his chair, caging him in. Still, he manages to stay calm. I grip his chin, knowing I’m likely leaving marks. “You want to prove it to me? To show me? Fine, I’ll give you that opportunity. But know this—if at any moment you even think about crossing a line, I’ll kill you. There will be no warnings.”
I don’t give him a chance to respond. Instead, I crush my lips against his. It’s a violent dual for dominance, with neither of us willing to submit, but I pour all of my feelings into it. The fury, hatred, respect, and hell, even the small kernel of acceptance that's unfurling inside me.
When I back up, his tongue darts out to collect the moisture I’ve left behind on those lips. His eyes reflect a storm that ignites some type of deeper feeling in me, but I shove it aside. It’s not the time to think about it. Eventually, he stands smoothly, unhurriedly. He’s coiled like a snake that's just waiting to strike, and is physically holding himself back. It makes me want to poke at him more, but I refuse that desire.
He leans toward me, his lips within range again, and I wonder what he’ll do. He doesn’t kiss me though, even as he hovers there. Instead, the words he utters crack me open and I struggle not to tremble against them. “You think you’ve won something, but you haven’t. You’ve already lost. But I’ll meet you for a scene, and you can see how I handle the cucciolo. Maybe you’ll learn something.”
With that simple sentence hanging between us, he turns and leaves. My hatred and respect for him grows with every step he takes away from me. All I can think isfuck, this is going to be interesting…
