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“I can’t promise you that,” I said hoarsely even as I took the steps to the balcony then strode inside its open doors. I hadn’t exactly stuck around to lock up when I’d raced to save her from drowning.
I carried her straight into the bathroom, then placed her onto her feet inside the shower stall, where I undressed her before I turned on the spray. She clung onto me, and a primal part of me enjoyed her reliance on me. That I enjoyed even more her tits scraping my chest and her pussy against my knee as I stuck my leg out to balance her while I shampooed her hair was my problem, not hers.
I wasn’t about to fuck her after her near death experience. My balls could go purple and my dick gangrene before I’d take advantage of her. That she was alive was all I cared about. And wasn’t that just the biggest clusterfuck imaginable? My assignment was to kill her and send parts to the Irish don, Sean, as a warning.
No one fucked with the Agostinos, or its don, Ethan.
Including me…
I sighed heavily, my dick sliding against Chantilly’s flat stomach that was drenched with sudsy water as I rinsed out the shampoo from her hair. She moaned a little, clearly enjoying the massage and the heat, and probably all too aware of her fragility.
She’d probably been less than a minute away from drowning.
My chest clenched, my hands fisting in her hair before I pulled her head up so that her eyes met mine. “Don’t ever try to escape from me again,” I gritted. “You nearly died.”
Her stare narrowed. “Why do you care?”
She had me there. She wasn’t to know that I wasn’t her angel of death anymore. I’d become her avenging angel who’d wipe out anyone who hurt her. Not that I’d be telling her that. But how did I reveal the truth to her without implicating my true affection toward her and my defection to my job?
I cupped her chin, my hold almost brutal. “I don’t care,” I lied. I needed her to continue hating me. “What I do care is that you don’t die until I’m ready for that to happen.”
Pain flashed in her eyes before hatred burned deep in them. That her pain became mine wasn’t anything I could do about right then, I’d wanted her hate even if it did hurt like a bitch.
“You’re a monster,” she said in a raw voice. “I despise you.”
I nodded, squeezing out a blob of conditioner before massaging it through her hair. “Then it’s a good thing you like to fuck me.”
Her breath hissed, and though I was half-expecting a slap, it never came. If she was barely capable of standing, I guess she’d be lucky to find the energy to lift her arm, let alone hit me. Despite her near drowning, which I couldn’t help but wonder might have been her way of letting go of life in her own way, self-preservation still thrummed deep inside her.
If she’d learned anything from living with Sean, it would be that any aggression would be met with a savagery a hundred times worse than whatever she delivered.
I washed out her conditioner. I didn’t want my Tilly to ever be afraid of showing me her true feelings, not anymore. I wanted her truth to burn bright, I wanted her to never hide things from me.
Damn it to hell and back, I wanted her to trust me!
I doubted that would ever happen. Trusting someone wouldn’t be in the repertoire for someone like Tilly. According to what I’d learned, she’d been burned too hard, not only by Sean but her own family, too.
If she trusted anyone ever again in her life I’d be surprised.
There was one thing I did need to know, though. “How old are you?”
She blinked up at me, her eyes wary. “Twenty-two.”
So damn young still. I’d be thirty-eight all too soon. It made me feel ancient and far too world-weary for someone of her age. That she’d no doubt seen and experienced way too much at a young age didn’t make me feel any better. It only made me feel worse after growing up myself too fast.
“Twenty-three in a few months,” she added, as though wishing her life away even before she imagined I’d take it away from her.
With her hair clean and shiny, I cut off the water and helped her out onto the soft bathroom mat, where I proceeded to thoroughly dry her. She was limp and pliable, her skin flushed and her eyes bright.
So different to the pale, listless body I’d taken out of the ocean.
I carried her to bed. I’d find the fishermen who’d left her to drown in the ocean, and I’d strangle them one-by-one if I uncovered even a hint of treachery.
“Sleep,” I said thickly as I covered her with a blanket. “I’ll leave you alone tonight.”
Chapter Seventeen
Chantilly
