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‘You would think so, but apparently he’s made sure he rules my life even from the grave.’
His jaw clenched. The recollection of the ruthless, power-hungry brute Elio had been—a man who put his interests ahead of everything and everyone, including his own daughter—was a bile-inducing one. Ares had batted off the threats and taunts from the crime boss, but the betrayal from Odessa still dredged up fury and bitterness that lingered.
It especially chafed that he hadn’t managed to make the old man pay for the way he’d treated his father. He’d thought he had time—had been stunned when his father had informed him that Elio had succumbed to cancer mere months before his sixtieth birthday.
Coming here today, it had crossed his mind briefly to make the daughter pay for her father’s transgressions, but he’d discarded the idea.
Odessa had enough of her own sins to account for.
‘Anything you want...’
The idea tantalised him far too much. Made his shaft thicken as he fantasised ways to enact his own sweet brand of retribution.
Footsteps echoed outside the door.
Odessa’s gaze darted to it and he watched her face grow haunted.
Rage mounted—both at the thought of Bartorelli being responsible for that look, and at the fact that he utterly loathed the thought of that man touching her.
Hell, the idea of any man touching her drew an uncustomary red glaze across his eyes. He told himself that it was because he despised bullies, and every male member of her family deserved that label. But when it came down to it Ares suspected it was that tempting little addendum that made him reach out to stop her jerky step towards the door, one arm wrapping around her waist and the other cupping her chin to redirect her focus to him.
And just like when he’d led her out of the salone, that sensation of her skin beneath his fingers made his breath catch. He accepted in that moment that he’d forgotten a few things about Odessa. Dear God, she was as soft and yet firm as he remembered. And that little sound she made in her throat as she faced him was equally intoxicating, twice as dangerous.
‘“I see”?’ he echoed sardonically. ‘That’s all you’re going to say?’
The sparks flared in her eyes, turning them molten and mercurial, in shades he’d found far too fascinating back when he’d known no better.
‘You want me to beg?’ she goaded. ‘Is that what you’re waiting for?’
Oh, yes.
‘That would be a good start.’
Her nostrils quivered—a delicate sight that sent yet another shock of heat through him.
‘I didn’t imagine you’d become a sadist.’
‘Looks like we’re learning new things about each other.’
And obsessing far too much about old things. Like what would’ve happened if you hadn’t betrayed me.
She opened her mouth, perhaps to berate him. He never found out, because in that moment, knuckles rapped hard on the door.
She flinched. His teeth gritted. Ne, he hated that reaction in her. Just as he hated everything about this day.
Then his mood darkened even further, as the door started to open without his express permission.
Acting solely on instinct, he dropped his hand from her chin. Then, wrapping his fingers over her nape, he tilted her face up to his.
‘We will discuss this further in a while. But for now...’
Sealing his mouth on hers, Ares gave in to the deep, dark temptation that had stalked him ever since he had spotted her at her father’s graveside.
He swallowed her soft grunt of surprise and swept his tongue through her parted lips, tasting her with a hunger he partly despised and partly welcomed, because perhaps he might need this further down the line, when he exacted due retribution.
He hadn’t altogether decided which way he was going to go, but this was a good start.
Dragging her closer to his ravenous body, he gloried in the soft curves that seemed sculpted to his, that flashed reminders he didn’t want, but couldn’t resist.
