Page 20 of A New Days Don

“You ran off last night,” He notes, his eyes boring into mine in a way that makes a knot form in my throat and the long-dead butterflies in my stomach twitch in their graves, “Can’t say that has ever happened.”

There is a quirk of his lip as if he is amused by the developments of the evening. My cheeks warm, but I refuse to play whatever game he’s stitching together, “There’s a first time for everything, Mr. Bianchi. Now–”

There is a rumble in his chest that makes my breath hitch, cutting me off from whatever it is I was about to say. I blink a couple of times, Massimo does not interrupt me as my mind slowly spins, “We are here to discuss some new developments in our investigation about the sex worker rapes and murders. I’m sure you have heard of them.”

I pause my eyes meeting his in question. He stays silent. His gaze is analytical, but he nods.

“I have been doing some research on the areas where the women were found, and I believe there is a correlation to the man’s dumping grounds and his hunting grounds. Based on my profile of him, he is cocky and has a complete disregard for law enforcement and, more importantly, for his victim. He doesn’t think he will ever be caught.” I pause again, taking in a deep, shaky breath as my heart thrums with nervous energy.

“You believe he may have hunted here before.” Massimo supplies in that smooth, languid rumble of his. We are talking about a rapist and murderer. He has no right to sound so… so… alluring?

A squeak escapes me as I nod. There is a quirk to his lip as his eyes track down my heated cheeks and neck.

“I don’t think it was a coincidence that Samiera Rahman was one of your workers,” I tell him, making his nonchalant exterior harden. Gone is any warmth that I had been feeling. The seriousness in his gaze seems to pull every last drop of heat from the room. The suddenness is alarming, and a gasp escapes me.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

My heart gallops heavily in my chest.

“Everyone who comes in and out of this club must register. It isn’t the case with all clubs, but this is for the elites, and we are selective with our clientele. You are welcome to search out books for cross-referencing.” He tells me, and I nod, tapping my pen against my notepad. Massimo’s dark eyes track the movement.

I don’t understand why he is being so forthcoming with information. Men like Massimo run tight books. Ones that they never give willingly to anyone, let alone someone associated with the law.

“Why are you being so open with me about all this?” I blurt the question before I can think better of it.

Massimo tilts his head, my body flaring with heat at his undivided attention. So much for the reprieve. This man can switch his moods so quickly that it could give a girl whiplash.

I wait for the panic to rise, but it never does. The warmth spreading through my body and pooling between my thighs isn’t typically what precedes panic, but I’m used to any physical change being a symptom of its onset. Something about that makes me even more uneasy. Wary of the man who is currently upending everything I know about this life, I was thrown into it 6 years ago.

I fail to swallow the knot forming as Massimo’s eyes dilate hypnotically, “Would you prefer I made things harder for you? Made you beg for it?”

Electric current zings down my spine, my core clenching with something I’m not familiar with. Something that makes me shift and hold my breath. Something so strange, I want to run for it.

My eyes dart for the still-open door before settling back on Massimo, “No, just curious.”

Quiet. Hesitant. Disoriented.

Massimo pivots the conversation, his eyes straying from mine, allowing me a moment to breathe as he walks around me to the black leather chair behind his desk. He relaxes back, and once my body loosens up from whatever emotion was trying to claw its way into me, he returns his gaze to me.

I don’t know how he knew what I needed in that moment. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe it was coincidental, but whatever it was, I am thankful.

The cool air of the club caresses my skin, bringing me out of whatever that was, and I meet his warm gaze with a sheepish smile.

“I guess I will be going. Thank you–”

Massimo’s chuckle cuts me off for a second time, and when my eyes narrow on his, shining with amusement, he speaks, “Do you have a habit of leaving a man hanging?”

Leaving a man hanging? Is that what he thinks I have been doing?

My brain goes completely blank as I look between those beautiful coffee-coloured eyes and his firm lips pulled into a teasing, Earth-shattering smile.

“I–No–I mean–” I stammer, my normally collected composure slipping after being in his presence for mere minutes.

“What were you doing in that house?” He asks, pinning me with his analytical gaze. I shift nervously.

I don’t know why I feel this way. I really shouldn’t. But for some godforsaken reason, I feel like he’s about to get mad with whatever I say, and I begrudgingly don’t want him to be.

“That’s official matters.” I retort, crossing my arms over my chest, returning a suspicious glance his way.