9. Chapter Nine—Carlotta #3
“I, Cassiel Angelo swear I will protect you, Carlotta Louisa Bellucci, until my last dying breath. Shall I break your trust, then the exact blade that has cut my skin shall be wielded by you to pierce my flesh and cut out my heart. Do you take my word as promise?”
“Yes,” I breathe, licking my dry lips.
“Wanna seal it with a kiss, Princess?”
Rome shoves his friend before I can answer. A good thing too, because with the way I’m feeling, hot and achy with arousal, intoxicated with adrenaline and the residual mingle of fear, I’m not quite sure I’d be saying no to Cassiel’s advances…
Both men stand, Rome’s knees cracking loudly in the otherwise silent room.
Grabbing the ornate whiskey decanter from the tray, he takes a swig right from the neck of the bottle before offering it to me.
I take it in two hands, the glass still warm from his touch, but I don’t take a sip.
“That was all a bit archaic, don’t you think?”
Rome quirks a brow, shoving his cut thumb into his mouth to lick away the remaining blood. “Don’t pretend like you don’t like it, seeing us both here on our knees for you, Red. I bet if I reached under that tight skirt of yours and touched your pussy, she’d be soak—”
I set the decanter of whiskey down on the silver tray with a loud bang, drowning out the rest of Rome’s words. Not because I don’t want him to talk about touching me; God, even the thought of it…
But because he isn’t wrong; I am wet, my underwear ruined and my inner thighs damp.
I catch sight of Cassiel winking at Rome before he leans against the edge of his boss’ desk, muscular arms crossed loosely, gaze fixated on mine. Dried blood coats the thick length of his thumb, settling into the lines of his wrist, but he makes no move to clean himself up.
“I still don’t understand,” I say. “Why would you both—”
“We protect our own, Red,” Rome answers. “Is that a good enough answer for you?”
I swallow dryly. “Does that mean I have to—”
“As much as I’d love to see you on your knees for me, Red. No, you aren’t obliged to swear the oath. For one, you haven’t even agreed to joining The Thirteen yet and for two…”
“For two?”
Rome pops his broad shoulders. “I’ve never seen a woman swear the oath before.”
“Are you saying I’m not allowed to?” My voice escapes me, pitched dangerously low.
“Did I say those words, Carlotta? Years ago maybe, but under my rule, you can do as you please. As long as it doesn’t involve me bailing you out of a jail cell or having to cover your ass for murder. The rest is up to you.”
Taking this as his in to change the subject, Cassiel speaks up, forcing Rome and I to break the stare down we’re both entranced in.
“Why did you even come here tonight, Princess? It was quite the surprise to see you on the security cameras. I don’t know who got more of a shock; me or Rome.”
I turn my gaze onto him, crooking a brow at his boyish smirk. “A welcome surprise?” Even I shock myself with how sultry my voice sounds.
“Always. But don’t skirt around my question.”
“I—” I peer down, fixing my gaze on my fingertips. My pointer finger still holds the straight line indent from where I’d held the blade with a tight grasp.
“Carlotta…”
“I haven’t been sleeping well. Not since…
” I swallow, picking my words carefully.
An oath they may have sworn, but I still don’t trust Rome and Cassiel.
Not fully, anyway. I believe Rome when he promises he didn’t have anything to do with my brother’s death, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t send me those creepy gifts in order to scare me into joining The Thirteen.
“I haven’t been sleeping well since Cristiano’s passing,” I decide to go with, keeping my head bowed so they can’t read the lie on my lips.
A strong hand squeezes my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Princess.”
I nod at Cassiel’s words, the lump in my throat not allowing me to speak any more on the matter. I’ve already cried once in Rome’s office tonight; I don’t need to be crying a second time.
“I thought if I went for a walk it would help and then I ended up here. I only meant to grab a drink at the bar and—”
“Have you tried melatonin tablets?”
I shake my head at Rome’s question.
“What about—”
“Do you think we could help?”
“Help?” I catch Cassiel’s eye.
He nods, a blond strand of his hair flopping into his eyes before he pushes it back with his deft fingertips. “Maybe if Rome sated a little bit of the energy floating around you. You’d be able to sleep in room eleven.”
“Cassiel, I don’t think—”
“Would you?” I switch my glance to Rome, poking my tongue out to wet my dry lips. “It always used to help me sleep, before you know…” My words trail off. Before I learnt you were the head of some Mafia group, intent on recruiting me to take the space of my deceased older brother.
Rome’s lids lower slightly, his chocolate dark brown eyes sparkling in the golden light emanating from the lampshade sitting on his desk. He dips his chin, lips parting, his tongue smoothly uttering his next words. “Go wait in room eleven for me, Red. Blindfold on.”
“Why? I know who you are now—”
Rome tuts. “When we’re at Nameless, we play by my rules, Red. Surely, you should know that by now.”