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Apparently, he feels the same because he slides a gun from under his coat as he slips from the SUV. "Are we going in or not?" he asks. His eyes are icy in the dim light, his jaw set in a formidable line.
"We're going in," I mutter, climbing out.
I can't shake the feeling that this is all fucking wrong, but it is what it is at this point. If we die, at least we'll do it with our guns in our hands.
We approach the mansion slowly, sticking to the shadows.
The guards are fucking useless. One is smoking by the fountain. The other two are chatting at the front entrance. All three are oblivious to the problem creeping up on them.
Their lax vigilance would be laughable under different circumstances. Tonight, it's going to cost them their lives.
Coda picks them off with brutal efficiency—two silenced shots and then a swift snap of the neck for the last. The third barely even has time to turn around when his buddies hit the ground before he's dead, too.
The front door isn't locked.
We slip in without a sound, our footsteps echoing against the marble floors.
The lights are off, and most of the house is cast into shadow. Even then, it's opulent—ridiculously so for a home that's rarely used. But then again, the Cascella family always liked to throw their money around.
Despite my worries about a trap, we don't find any other guards. The place is empty.
I jerk my chin toward the stairs, letting Coda know I'm heading up. He nods and points deeper into the mansion, telling me that he'll continue searching downstairs.
I make my way upstairs, staying as quiet as possible.
A flicker of light at the end of the hall draws my attention. I follow it, trusting instincts honed by years of use.
The door at the far end of the hallway is slightly ajar, spilling light into the dark hall. I push it open slowly, glancing inside.
The room is as luxurious as the rest of the house, but it's inconsequential. The curvy goddess seated at the vanity is the only thing that matters to me.
The sight of her stops me in my tracks, gripping me by my fucking balls. It's an intense, visceral reaction I didn't anticipate.
Cazzo.
She's the prettiest little thing I've ever seen before. Every inch of her is thick and lush, from her full breasts to her thick waist to her hips. She looks so fucking soft and innocent. So gentle.
There's an ethereal, unreal quality to her—as if she's a midnight fairy bathing in the moonlight pouring through the window. Raven hair tumbles freely down her back. Her olive skin glows. Her full lips are parted slightly as she stares at her own reflection with troubled blue eyes as if trying to figure out who she is.
She turns toward me, and those blue eyes meet mine. It feels like being struck by lightning. Desire sparks through every vein and ignites every nerve.
My cock throbs in response, aching like a motherfucker.
Jesus. I've never felt anything like it.
She gasps, her hand flying to her throat in surprise. But I don't move to reassure her, not immediately. Not while heat pools low in my gut. Not when every instinct roars at me to claim what's mine. Not when my cock is so fucking hard that I can't think straight.
Coda would call this madness—an unnecessary distraction. But he doesn't feel the raw, all-consuming need pulling me toward this goddess. If this is madness, it feels pretty fucking vital to me.
Jesus Christ.
"Who are you?" Her voice trembles with fear, but a spark of defiance in those stunning eyes sends a shiver of anticipation through me.
Would she submit if she were on her back beneath me…or would she fight like hell the whole time?
I've never wanted to find out as badly as I do right now.
I don't have time for women or dating. Actually, I've intentionally never made time. Women and kids are collateral damage in my world. Just ask my mother. My father fucked up and got her killed. She was six months pregnant with my little brother.
