Page 45 of Wicked Mafia Sinner

But she doesn't belong here. That's the problem.

What happened on that terrace was a mistake. My brothers fell in love and now they spend half their lives worrying about protecting their families. Their wives are scared to leave the house. Their children will grow up with targets on their backs.

I'm not walking into that trap. Not when anyone close to me could end up dead. Again.

I swallow past the knot tightening around my throat and leave temptation where it belongs. Behind me. She’s the one. I know it. That knowledge is another reason I need to keep my hands and dick to myself.

I take my coffee to the cliff-face windows. Lake Michigan is gray this morning. Flat. The only thing that offers signs of life is the rolling fog over the still surface of the water.

My phone vibrates with an incoming call. Rafael, following up from last night's meeting. I handle it in clipped texts. The brothers are working the pipeline intel. Drake is running Detective Vickers through his contacts. Luca is pulling shipping manifests for all our routes despite having a dead body appear two blocks from his home twelve hours ago. The machine is moving. It's how I designed my network. I don't have to be hovering in order for it to perform.

I used to find comfort in that. The self-sustaining system. The machine that doesn't need me.

Now the quiet leaves me nothing to do but think about the woman in my bed and the way her body arched against mine on that wall.

Sometime around nine the energy in the fortress shifts.

She's awake.

Seconds later the bed frame creaks and the sound carries through the cracked door. A soft thud of bare feet on marble signals she is heading to the bathroom. The bathroom door opens and closes. Water runs a minute later.

I white-knuckle the edge of the kitchen counter. It takes every ounce of self-control to keep from crossing to my bedroom. What I would do once I stood at the door would be one of two things. Demand she leave before I ruin her.

Or ruin her.

I have no doubt I would go for option two.

She appears in the kitchen doorway fifteen minutes later wearing the clothes from the bag I brought. She opted for skin-tight dark jeans that hug her curves in a way that confirms I got the sizing right. She paired them with a sweater close to the color of her hair. It slants over a creamy shoulder, teasing me.

Just a kiss, is all my brain says. But I know once I get my lips on her again, I won’t stop with a kiss.

With the sweater pulled sideways, I spy the curve of her delicate collarbone and the gold chain of her locket. Her hair falls in a white sheet to her waist, clean and soft from the shower. She looks like a woman who fought off armed intruders, got kidnapped by a stranger, slept for fourteen hours, and woke up ready to have opinions about everything.

Violet eyes sweep to find me the second she steps a foot outside the bedroom door. She looks at the single mug of coffee in my hand and what she told me yesterday comes to mind. I have a single item of everything in my home. I never needed a second mug before now.

“Good morning.”

Color blooms over the swell of her soft cheeks. Shy is not how I would describe Cora. Headstrong, blunt and full of life… yes. Direct. Also yes. But the second our gaze connects she drops her eyes to the floor.

“Malyshka.”

I wait for her to lift her attention off the floor.

“Are we okay?” I know she understands what I am asking.

“Da,” she answers and hearing my native language on her tongue sends a wave of arousal through me.

“Good. Now come here and let me get you something to eat.”

“Thank you, I'm starving.”

I pause beside the kitchen. “Didn’t you eat yesterday?” I can’t believe I didn’t check with her after Luca’s phone call yesterday.

“I ate an apple, but I can’t say that I was too hungry yesterday. Besides, it’s not my home and it’s not polite to go snooping through another person’s refrigerator. My mother would be mortified.”

I walk around the kitchen island, taking her smaller hands in mine. “My home is your home. There is nothing that is off limits. Except upstairs. For your own safety. Understood.” I’ve never said truer words in my life.

Tears wet her lashes. “No one has ever offered me their home like you have." She pauses and I reach for the single tear that escapes, flicking it away.