Page 28 of Revenge on the Mafia

The question reflected in his eyes when they came to me.

No sé.

I don’t know.

“No salt,” I choked out instead.

His lips started to curl. It was half amusement and half mockery. “Basta ya.” I yanked his fork out of his hold, fleeing to the kitchen, pot in my other hand.

His voice stopped me at the threshold, breaking through the insane buzz in my head. It sounded so calm that I wondered again if any of it was real. If all of it were in my head. Because buried in his words was a promise. “You are no coward, Anna Vales.”

No somos cobardes.

I made it past the door, but halfway to the counter, darkness came for me and took me captive.

CHAPTER TWELVE

NICO

Aged wooden planks and a marble kitchen block. Slumped against them lay the very thing that had brought the beat back to my dead heart. I both resented and craved it.

When I dropped to my knees, oxygen leaked from my lungs. For all the years I’d known Anna Vales, I’d never been this close to her of my own volition. A mere two feet away. If I leaned closer, I could make it zero. Everything slowed. My palm strained on the floor, fixating and keeping me away from temptation. I knew if I touched her, I would never let go. I was already backing away from my intentions. It was more delaying than backing away. Still, I was proving to Juan what I was made of. A load of bullshit.

A puff of breath escaped her lips. As if she agreed with me. The loose bun she’d had her hair in had come undone. Tendrils framed her face, each of them with a mind of their own and all of them with intentions to ruin me. The last time, I’d barely touched her hair. Soft and silky. I had to know if it was a fragment of my imagination. My hand hovered near one spiral falling past her forehead, her closed eye with thick eyelashes, and caressed her cheek. In another life, I wanted to be one of those eyelashes or a lock in her hair. Close to her with every damn breath she took. Fuck! I snatched my hand away. It was so fucking soft. Like newly spun raw silk. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

My hands rushed through my hair. Clenching, and unclenching again. If Enzo or Stefano caught me like this, they’d think I’d lost it.

“Fuck.”

She didn’t move. But when she’d stood there with murderous vengeance in her eyes, I allowed myself to wonder what it would be like to smother all that hatred with a kiss. Just one. That was all I wanted. All I deserved.

I half rose to my feet. I had to get out of there. Then sank back to my knees. I couldn’t leave her like that. I’d have to ask Magda to wake her up. Then I’d have to explain, and I refused to do that. Not to anyone or anything, except maybe to her.

Just get it over with.

Gritting my teeth, I scooped her up into my arms and stood. She was so light she was in danger of slipping through my fingers and falling to the floor like dust. So fucking tiny, and somehow she still created chaos in my heart. Hardly breathing, I carried her through the living room. My foot hit the first step of the staircase. Why am I going in the direction of my bedroom?

Jesus, Nico!

With a muffled curse, I turned and headed toward her room. Halfway there, she shifted in my arm and buried her face in the crook of my elbow. Her warm breath burned into the hollow of my skin all the way to the basement. I swore to God some women were made for a man’s downfall. This one was my own personal hell.

When I reached her room, she’d agitated me enough that I forgot myself and dropped her on the bed. She bounced but didn’t budge, and I was almost pissed that she wasn’t bothered by any of it. I hovered over her. So soft. So fragile. When I dropped to my knees to brush a few curls off her face, I forgot myself and inhaled a breath. Her scent hit me with a sharpness that took my breath away. Fresh. Floral. My mind hit upon a memory. She smelled like a Spanish rockrose wildflower. Of course she did. Bitterness curled inside me as I forced myself to walk away. The one thing I couldn’t have, had to be custom-made for me.

What would it be like to kiss her? Would she taste sweet, or would she bite and draw my blood?

There were one hundred and fifty-six things I should have been doing. Balancing the pros and cons of kissing my maid/assassin wasn’t one of them. But it didn’t stop me from watching her every move like dollar signs on an investment sheet.

Fuck. I was in deep trouble.

She was walking toward my office, a bucket of cleaning products and a vacuum cleaner in hand. Instead of working at my desk, I was hiding in one of the guest rooms, watching her on my screen and trying to crush the memory of her in her bed the night before. The irony of my situation would no doubt entertain my brothers. I already had Magda working on my nerves because I’d asked the new help to clean my office.

I had to stop this. Get a handle on this situation. Wrap it up. Rapido.

I was so busy mulling over my cowardice that it took me some time to realize she hadn’t moved beyond the doorway. Her fingers clutched around the frame, her face chalk white, and she looked like she was hanging on for dear life.

Che diavolo sta succedendo?

What the hell was going on? The next instant, she dashed into the nearest powder room, locking herself inside. Frustration and panic sped through my veins. I’d stopped myself from adding cameras into the private areas, and she was making me regret my one good deed. I zoomed into my office. I’d just vacated it. What was so fucking scary?