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And there must be something wrong with me because something about that tone caused my nipples to pebble in my bra. They’re still hard and aching, and I feel a pulse in between my legs. He slides into the back of the vehicle and places his arm over the seat behind me. He doesn't leave hardly any space between our bodies. I’m practically in the crook of his arm as his big frame seems to suck all the air out of the backseat.
His masculine scent wraps around me. He smells expensive, like sandalwood and mahogany and one-hundred percent virile male, and my God, he’s ripped too. I can see the muscles in his thighs ripple and cord when he moves.
Everything about him is large. I’m teeny tiny anyway, but I feel even smaller sitting next to his gigantic form.
He doesn't ask me where I live before he tells the driver my address. I blink, though I'm not entirely shocked at the knowledge that Massimo knows where I live. He said he knew me even though I didn't know him, and I feel a tingle go up my spine as I realize what this means.
I lick my lips as I ask him nervously, “Have you been stalking me?”
Massimo’s piercing blue eyes capture mine. He stares at me for a long moment as if he's drinking in my face and committing it to memory before he finally answers me. “I have been watching over you, my littletesoro.”
I swallow. “So that's a yes? Because that’s the definition of stalking, right? Watching someone without their knowledge?”
Massimo simply shrugs his shoulders unapologetically. “Call it what you will, Gracie.”
Gracie.
No one has ever called me that before. I've never let anyone get close enough for them to develop a nickname or pet name for me. I shouldn't like it. I don't know anything about this man, but I can't deny that I like the way he calls me Gracie. The way it sounds in the deep timbre of his voice.
He traces a finger along my thigh, and I can feel his touch burning me through the cotton of my leggings. I swallow again—hard. “What do you want from me?”
He tips my chin up and forces me to look at him so that he's looking directly into my eyes when he answers, “I want so much with you, Grace Birmingham.”
My heart is pitter-pattering away in my chest as he lowers his head down to mine. My breath hitches in my throat. I close my eyes, anticipating his kiss, but it never comes. When I open my eyes, it's to find his eyes open, staring right into mine. His lips are so close to mine, I can feel his breath fanning across them. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, the word skating across my lips.
He threads a hand through my hair and drags it through the silky strands, watching his hand pass through it as if it mesmerizes him.
His nostrils flare, and he leans in toward me again. I’m certain that he’s going to press his lips against mine this time, but he simply reaches across me and pops open the door.
When he finally sits back, I can breathe again, though I’m both strangely relieved and disappointed that he didn’t kiss me.
I look up to see his eyes blazing that blue fire down at me. “Go inside,tesoro, and make sure you lock the door behind you.”
I stare at him for a moment longer, frozen in place, before I finally break myself out of whatever trance he put me in and step out of the back of the vehicle on shaky legs.
I can't tell if his order was a warning that I should be worried that I'm in danger from someone else—or from him.
ChapterThree
Grace
Of course,after I'm safely in my house with the door locked like Massimo told me, my mind obsessively replays our every interaction from the first one down to this last one, and I think of all the things I wish I'd asked him and said to him.
I'm notorious for that, for overanalyzing things after the fact and thinking of better ways I could have responded. It seems like so far my modus operandi around Massimo is to freeze up and wordlessly obey every order the man gives me.
I don't know what it is about him, but I should be more afraid knowing that a man like him is watching me. I should have asked a hell of a lot more questions and been more outraged at his order to take me home. What kind of idiot am I to get into the car with a man I don't even know? Yeah, I know his name, but that's about it.
I don't know why I never thought to do it before, but I fire up my laptop and type Massimo’s name into the search bar. My eyes widen when the results pop up. He’s the son of the city's most notorious crime lord, Vitale Russo. According to the searches, Vitale is the head of the Italian Mafia here in the States, which means that Massimo is the mafia prince who’s set to inherit his father's throne. He’s an only child, so he's the only heir to the criminal empire.
That explains the aura of darkness and power that seems to surround him. My heart drops. How the hell did I garner the attention of the mafia prince?
I may not have had strong parental guidance growing up, but I've lived in the city long enough to know that Massimo is not the kind of man an innocent young girl should get involved with. He’s too dangerous.
But, wait, it's not like Iaminvolved with him. I haven't done anything to encourage him. The man just admitted to watching me and keeps showing up out of nowhere whenever it suits him. And despite the dangerous vibes he gives off, I don't feel like he would hurt me.
The way he looks at me, I think I know what he wants from me, and my cheeks flush at the knowledge, especially when I have to acknowledge that my traitorous body wants that too.
I haven't been able to get my mind off the man since the first night he somehow made his way into the massage parlor undetected and assaulted me with those fiery blue eyes.
