Page 44 of Revenge on the Mafia

I wanted to yank the dry tone out of his throat, snap it in two, and make him choke on it. “Furious.”

“Show me, then.”

¿Qué demonios? What the hell was wrong with this man? Did he want to die so badly? “I’m not a fucking show,” I snapped.

“No,” he laughed. Strangely, that was the first time he’d done that. Sweet and venomous. Soft and dark. A baritone of sharpness and heat. Music. It reminded me of a short snip of a note. I forgot all about it at his next words. “You’re my private entertainment.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

He glared at me. Hands in his pockets. Two top buttons undone in his dress shirt. Sleeves wrapped tightly around his wrists. Black shirt. Black pants. Black soul. “I’m pissed.”

“Your problem. Not mine.”

His eyes flashed. I was too vexed to give a shit. “Ask me why.”

“I’ve got better things to do.”

“Ask. Me. Why.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re full of yourself.”

He said nothing. Didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stood there like a massive heat-block blocking my exit. He wasn’t scaring me, but for some reason, my breathing dipped. I didn’t like it when we were in close quarters. There was always an odd connection between us. “All right. Why?” I wanted out of this room, and maybe even out of this house. He made me vibrate with agitation. The thought alone had my hand curling around the knife in my pocket.

He followed the movement. When his gaze pulled up, it was almost full of pride. “Because you should be living.”

Ugh? “Last I looked, I was breathing.”

I didn’t know why his gaze dipped to my heaving chest. Even less why my nipples pebbled to attention. I needed to get laid.

“Living, Anna. Not hiding in the storeroom. Being out there. Fighting me. Standing up for yourself. I want your emotions.”

I scoffed. “You’re not worth my emotions.”

“Don’t do it for me, then.” He watched me sharply. “Do it for yourself. You’re born to be a firecracker. Not a fucking ice queen.”

I couldn’t even process his words. Let alone know his intentions. “You don’t want my emotions. If they show up, you’ll be dead.”

There. I’d said it.

“Do it then.”

¿Qué demonios?

I was too stunned to move. The blood in my veins crawled to a stop. As if in slow motion, I blinked. Once. Twice. Then he smashed the tension with the last thing he could have said.

“What will you do if I kiss you?”

I opened my mouth and closed it again. “¿Qué?” This man was giving me whiplash.

“A kiss.” Heat rose from the tips of my toes. Joder, what the hell. His voice dipped. “Call it a dying man’s wish.” I couldn’t remember how to breathe.

He straightened up against the doorway.

Oh no. “No me jodas.”

“I’m not fucking with you.”

Like hell. He took one step into the room, and the walls shrunk in. “Basta ya.”