Page 6 of The Boss's Revenge

“Let’s go.” His silky tone promised a veiled anger that I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to deal with, but regardless, I’d take this stranger with an oddly gentlemanly sense of chivalry over my father and his intended husband for me.

The man I’d seen at Rocco’s side at the club stepped out of the car and opened the back. He stared at me with ill-concealed curiosity. What was his name again? Right, Alberto.

“Where are we going, boss?”

Rocco pushed me into the backseat, and followed, sending me sliding to the other side of the car. “Home.” His snap sent Alberto’s eyebrows up his forehead, but he clearly thought better of speaking and simply shut the door. Silence fell between Rocco and me alone. I’d never been really alone with this man, and soon, I’d be locked in his apartment with him, and the outrageous way that I’d trapped him between us. What would he do to me? A prickle of fear ran through me, as he flexed his hands on his knees. His fingers were long, aristocratic really,and his sharp suit and shirt suited him perfectly. He was a stunning man, strong, but elegant. Somehow piratically dark and rugged, while perfectly dressed, like a jaguar in a bespoke suit.

“You’re not going to speak to me?” I prodded after a good ten minutes of thick silence.

His hand clenched on his knee, and my words flew from my head. There was something about that controlled movement that sent real fear through me.

After another ten minutes, we drew up at his brownstone on Mulberry Street. A historically Italian area of the city, Rocco had built himself a perfectly designed bachelor pad in the heart of downtown, and here I was about to ruin it all. I knew all about his place. I’d picked the brain of some girl that had been over there, years before. She still came to his club every weekend, hoping to catch the kingpin’s eye, but had clearly failed. I wondered if it was the same as she remembered it being, seeing as a good four years had passed. Clearly, he still had the famous Mino da Fiesole sculpture. The car drew to a stop, and after a moment, the door beside me opened, Alberto stood waiting for me on the sidewalk.

“Get out,” Rocco said, that same, barely constrained tone sending a flutter of fear through me. I swallowed my fear, and tilted my chin up, looking down at him, despite our height difference. I got out of the car and walked imperiously toward the stairs. I felt more than heard Rocco following me, his energy a dark, swirling maelstrom.

Security was thick, as he let me into the building, and I saw the surprise on the guard’s faces, as I entered the apartment of the last single Luciano. If there was an eligible bachelor competition in the underworld that we lived in, Rocco would take the title with ease. And here I was, penniless, powerless,with an ignorant, grasping brute of a father, trying to take him off the market, or so he thought.

The door shut behind Alberto, the last guard to leave, and finally, we were truly alone.

I slipped my shoes off at the door and watched as Rocco disappeared down the hall. Slowly, I followed. The brownstone had high ceilings and wooden floors. I could see his appreciation for his Italian heritage in the tasteful design. He was an effortlessly stylish man, and I was the barnacle that had stuck to his side.

“Rocco-,” I called, padding after him down the hall in my socks. I found him in the huge, open-plan kitchen. He was drinking something at the counter. He turned when I came in, and I saw the crystal tumbler in his hand and the whiskey on the counter.

“Drink?” he said, pouring me a glass, and offering it to me.

I took it with numb fingers and simply held it.

He smirked coldly. “You can drop the act. We both know you’re not pregnant.”

I swallowed hard, the throat of the burning liquid making my stomach turn. I set the glass down.

His eyes tracked the movement, and he tilted his head to the side. “Unless you are. Whose is it?” he prompted after a moment.

“I’m not a big drinker,” I evaded.

“Right. So, you’re not going to confess to your lies, even to me?”

I took a deep breath, and met his eyes, gripping the counter to keep myself steady. “So, you can use it against me? Maybe you’re recording me,” I pointed out.

He let out an incredulous laugh. “You’re something else, you know that.”

“You offered to help me,” I reminded him.

He stared at me, his eyes hard in the rising dawn light seeping through the windows. Then he moved.

Before I could react, he grabbed me to him, and turned me against the counter, pushing me until the small of my back pressed hard into the rounded edge.

“Don’t play games with me, Kira. It might work with other men, but it won’t work with me.”

“I’m not planning on-,” I started, and my words shuttered inside my mouth, as he clamped a hand over my lips.

“Shut your lying mouth. If you lie to me again, you won’t like the consequences. If you’d asked me for help, I might have considered it, but seeing as you’ve tried to trap me, embarrassed my family, and cast doubt of my honor… I’ll never willingly help you, got it?” His cool words made tears prickle behind my eyes. Crap, how long had it been since I last cried? I couldn’t even remember.

“In a few days, your little lie will be revealed, and there’s nothing you can do about it. If you’re really pregnant, I’ll send you back to the real father, and if you’re not, you can trot off to your arranged match. You made a bad choice when you chose this path,cara mia.”

He pulled his hand from my mouth.

His body was pressed against mine, and the strong, clean masculine smell of him made me dizzy. What would it be like to have someone so strong on your side? What would it be like to be the one a man like Rocco wanted to protect, at all costs? I was sure I’d feel like a queen. I knew it with the same certainty I knew it’d never be me. Why would a man like him ever willingly choose a woman like me?

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