6. Natalya
I’m still wide awake and staring at the ceiling when I hear my phone vibrate on the nightstand next to me. My heart gives a fast jump when I see Dominic’s name.
You never texted me like I asked you to, principessa.
I don’t know how he does it, but I can feel the irritation coming off the words and hear the accented disappointment. My fingers are already flying across the screen, unable to ignore him.
Sorry. I figured since you saw me climb in the window that you knew we were okay.
His response is immediate. I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t want you to do it. Is everything okay?
My heart races as I type out a response. I can’t explain my reaction to Dominic, but it’s all-consuming. Yeah, everything’s fine. Svetlana is already asleep. No one knows we left.
Why aren’t you sleeping?
I can’t tell him the truth, that I’m not sleeping because I’m too busy thinking about how good it had felt to be held in his arms, or that I can’t stop remembering the hardness I’d felt pressing against my ass, or that every time I try to close my eyes, I hear his accented voice in my ear, whispering my name.
I settle on: Nerves. My mind is still racing from everything that happened.
After several seconds, I start to worry that he’s not going to answer, but then his text comes through.
I’m glad I was there tonight. I don’t like thinking about what could’ve happened if I hadn’t been.
A few seconds later, I get two texts, one right after the other.
Try and get some sleep, Natalya.
Call me if you ever need anything.
And the final one has me sucking in a quick breath.
Sweet dreams, principessa.
I reread his texts several times before typing out a simple Night, Dominic.
I wait to make sure he isn’t going to send anything else, and then because I can’t help it, I pull up the photo I’d sent myself from my dad’s phone last week at the supper. The photo of Dominic holding me as a baby fills my screen. He looks younger in the photo, but he hasn’t aged that much, and I swear he looks even sexier now than he did then. I’m just a baby in the photo, but it’s obvious I was just as enamored with him then as I am now.
I keep staring at the two of us until I finally force myself to set my phone aside before I end up texting him again and making a fool of myself. My mind refuses to stop racing as I replay everything that happened tonight over and over again. My hand stings a little bit from punching that asshole, but it’s nothing compared to the throbbing ache that’s going on between my thighs. When I close my eyes, I can still feel his hands on me, the way his finger had brushed along the inside of my knee, the deep, masculine groan he’d given when my ass had pressed against him—I’m lost to the memory, and it takes hours for me to fall asleep.
The next two weeks pass by in a stressful blur that’s a mix of nervously waiting to get caught for what happened and wishing like hell Dominic would text me again, but he doesn’t, and I haven’t seen or heard from him in fourteen days. It bothers me way more than it should. He’s more than twice my age, the don of a powerful mafia, and the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. I’ve spent more than one sleepless night imagining him with another woman in his arms and in his bed, and it’s slowly driving me crazy.
Knowing I need to get out of the house, I grab my bag and head for the kitchen. Mom and Dad are out on one of their date nights, which always involves a ride on Dad’s motorcycle and them coming back super late with huge smiles on their faces, looking like a couple of guilty teenagers. Sasha ordered a bunch of Chinese food earlier, but I’m not in the mood. I’ve got a craving for lasagna, and I blame it on the smoldering hot Italian that I can’t get out of my head.
“Hey, I’m going to run out and get something to eat. You guys want anything?”
Sasha and Mia look up from their huge cartons of food. Sasha’s already put a big dent in the sweet and sour chicken, and Mia looks determined to finish off the crab Rangoon before Sasha remembers they’re there.
“We have food,” he says, waving at the white boxes covering the counter.
“I have a craving for lasagna. I’m just going to run and grab something to bring back. I won’t be long.”
“Are you going to Mama Sofia’s?” Mia’s words are muffled because of the huge bite she just took.
“Why on earth would I ever go anywhere else?” I ask, already tasting the delicious red sauce and homemade noodles.
“Bring back extra garlic bread,” she tells me.
“To go with your Chinese food?”
“I’ll eat it later,” she says with a laugh.
“I’ll help her,” Sasha says, and then they both raise a white carton in a toast.
I laugh and start for the door. “You got it. Two extra orders of garlic bread coming up.”
When I get to the parking garage, Grigori and one of the newer bodyguards, Pavel, are sitting in the SUV. Sasha must’ve ordered extra for them, because when they see me through their windshield, Grigori drops his egg roll and gets out.
“Something wrong?” he quickly asks, walking over to me.
“No, I’m just going to grab some supper. I have a craving for Italian. I’ll be right back if you want to stay here and finish your supper,” I suggest, but the look he gives me makes it clear that won’t be happening anytime soon.
“Come on, I’ll drive,” he tells me, pulling a set of keys out of his pocket and heading for another black SUV. I don’t bother arguing. I just follow and get in the passenger side. Grigori’s a good man, and he’d have a heart attack if he knew that Svetlana and I snuck out while under his watch. It would devastate him, and I hope like hell he never finds out.
“I’m guessing we’re going to Mama Sofia’s?”
I smile and look over at him. “Best Italian food in the city.”
“It is,” he agrees. “You’d never know it from the outside, though.”
“It’s a hidden gem.”
He gives a soft laugh and takes a right out of the parking garage, heading us towards the east side of the city, the side Dominic controls. It’s not an issue for us to go there since our families are on friendly terms, and it’s not my fault the restaurant happens to be located across the invisible dividing line. Once we pass it, though, I swear I can feel him. I know it’s all in my head, but the feeling lingers all the same.
Grigori manages to find an empty spot, parallel parking near the entrance to the restaurant.
“Nice,” I tell him, giving him a big smile and a thumbs up.
He laughs, but before I can open the door, he grabs my arm to stop me. The mood shifts as his eyes turn hard and serious. There’s no longer a trace of the easy laugh he’d just given. His mouth is in a tight line as he turns his head, scanning the area around us for anything that looks even remotely suspicious. I stay quiet and still, letting him do his job, and only when he gives a small nod do I reach for the handle again and open the door. He’s by my side in seconds, walking with me while keeping a close eye on our surroundings. It all looks like a normal, busy night in the city to me, but I know Grigori is trained to see things that I can’t.
I stay by his side when we enter the restaurant. I’d placed the order on the drive over, so the food is already bagged and ready to go. I was right about this place being a hidden gem. The small restaurant with peeling paint and booths that probably looked great ten years ago but are now worn thin from too many asses doesn’t scream luxury food, but it definitely is. As soon as you walk through the glass door that’s always smudged with hand and fingerprints, all you can smell is pure heaven. Red sauce, garlic bread, and the best, freshest herbs in the city. It’s sensory overload in the best way possible.
Squeezing our way to the front counter, I give him my name and quickly pay for everything. Within minutes, we’re weaving our way back out past all the other hungry people waiting in line. I’m carrying the bags so Grigori’s hands are free, and we’re almost to the SUV when I hear several loud popping sounds in rapid succession, like it’s the Fourth of July and someone just lit a strand of firecrackers.
Before I can even register what’s going on, Grigori lets out a grunt of pain and throws me to the ground, covering my body with his. The bags of food fly from my hands, spilling across the pavement, and all I can hear are screams of terror, and all I can smell is the strong garlic from the bread that’s been tossed from the bag and trampled underfoot.
“Grigori!” I scream, feeling the back of my shirt start to soak with something hot and sticky.
He lets out another pained groan and fires off several shots. Seconds later, he’s handing me a bloody key fob. “Go,” he grits out. “Dominic’s house is closest. Go, Natalya. Now!”
“I’m not leaving you,” I quickly say, trying to turn around and see how badly he’s been hit.
“Yes, you are.” He fires off another shot and pulls his phone out, already calling for backup. “Go! Now!”
The fury in his voice has me moving my ass, scurrying across the hard cement as Grigori keeps firing to give me cover. I lose my heels in the scuffle, but with the adrenaline pumping through my body, I barely notice the rough concrete scraping at my feet. It’s been drilled into my head enough times to know that I need to get my ass out of here, so that’s what I focus on. I can hear my dad’s voice in my head as I push the button to open the door and jump inside.
If anything ever happens, you do whatever Grigori tells you to do. You listen to him, princess, no matter what. His job is to keep you safe. He will give his life to save yours, and you will let him, because I can’t survive the death of a child.
I’ll never forget the way he’d looked as he told me that, and I promised myself that I’d never disobey Grigori because seeing the hurt in my dad’s eyes was too much for me. Tears stream down my face, but I don’t stop. I gun the engine and pull out with a squeal of tires, racing towards Dominic. I’m still a few minutes away, so with shaky hands, I pull my phone out of my pocket and call him. He answers immediately.
“Is something wrong?”
I’m crying too hard to speak clearly, but I manage to say, “Help, I need help. Grigori’s been shot.”
“Where are you?”
The worry and anger in his voice helps steady me. He’ll keep me safe. I know he will.
“I’m driving. I’ll be there in just a few minutes.”
“Don’t hang up. Stay on the phone with me. Just breathe, principessa.”
“Mm-hmm,” I say in a shaky voice. My whole body is trembling, and my heart is racing so fast I’m afraid it might never slow down again.
Dominic hears my ragged breathing and says again, “It’s okay, Natalya. Take a big breath for me.”
He hears my inhale. “Good girl, now give me another.”
I do as he says, slowly breathing in and out until I see the iron gates that line his property. They’re always closed, but right now they’re open, and he’s standing right outside them, phone to his ear as he paces in his beautiful, Armani suit beside his guards. As soon as I’m close enough, he opens the door. I press the brake while he puts it in park for me because I’m shaking too hard to do anything else.
Without a word, he pulls me into his arms, holding me tightly against his chest while he barks out orders in Italian. He feels the blood that’s covering my back and lets out another string of Italian.
“Are you hurt?” His accent is thicker than normal while his hand runs along my back, searching for injuries.
“No, it’s Grigori’s blood,” I whisper. “I just left him there.” I start to cry again when I think about the man I left bleeding on the ground.
“Good. That’s exactly what you were supposed to do.”
Cupping the back of my head, he sighs and gets in the SUV, keeping me on his lap as he drives us down his long driveway. It’s a tight fit, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting him go. When we’re in front of his house, I wrap my arms tighter around his neck, pressing our bodies together because I’m terrified he’s going to put me down and walk away.
“Please don’t let go,” I beg him.
Before he opens the door, he hugs me back just as tightly. “I wasn’t planning on it, principessa.”
I let out a relieved sigh against his neck, clinging to him when he steps out of the SUV while taking me with him. He’s carrying me bridal style again, but he surprises me by lifting me up and saying, “Wrap your legs around me.”
He doesn’t have to ask me twice. I wrap my arms and legs around his strong body, feeling him tuck the light, summer dress I’m wearing around me before placing his forearm under my ass, so I’m held close and completely covered up. Grabbing his phone, he walks me to his front door, storming in and slamming it shut behind us.
If I wasn’t still so shaky, I’d take a few minutes to admire his gorgeous home, but I’m too frazzled, barely noticing the dark, wood floors and plush, red rugs that cover them. Gorgeous works of art cover the walls, but it’s not gaudy and extravagant. It feels cozy, like he took the time to pick pieces of art that he actually enjoys looking at instead of random ones that are meant to impress. Tasteful, refined, and authentic, just like him.
He carries me down a long hall, stopping before a set of dark, wooden doors. When he opens them and leads me into a large office, I lift my head in curiosity. I feel like he’s just brought me into a sacred room, a space that not too many people get to see. There’s another large rug in a gorgeous, deep red color and on top of it is a large desk with two leather chairs in front of it. I’m convinced he’s going to set me down in one of them, and when I squeeze him tighter, he gives my back a soft, reassuring pat as he walks past them. When he sits in the buttery soft leather chair behind his desk, he takes me with him.
“I need to call your dad and let him know you’re okay.”
“Okay,” I whisper, still clutching him as I straddle his lap.
In seconds, I hear my dad’s frantic voice coming from the phone. He’s so upset he doesn’t realize he’s speaking Russian.
Dominic cuts in. “She’s fine, Lev. Grigori sent her over to me. She’s safe and unharmed.”
“She’s safe?”
I almost start crying again at the sound of my dad’s voice cracking.
“She’s safe,” Dominic tells him again, “and I want her to stay here.”
Surprised, I sit up straighter, pulling back enough so I can see his face. His dark eyes stay locked on mine while his hand lightly grips my hip.
“She needs to come home,” my dad argues.
“We don’t know who did the attack or why,” Dominic reminds him. “You know how safe my home is, Lev. I have plenty of guest rooms. I give you my word that she’ll be safe here.”
“Let me talk to her.”
Dominic raises a dark brow at me, and when I nod my head, he hands me his phone. I stay on his lap, legs straddling him in a completely inappropriate position, but I have no fucks to give right now. Tremors still run through my body, and my words are still shaky when I say, “I’m here, Dad.”
“Jesus fuck, are you okay?” He’s switched back to Russian, and the fear in his voice has my eyes tearing up again. I let out a shaky breath when Dominic reaches a hand up and lightly brushes the pad of his thumb along my cheek, wiping the tears away.
“Are you hurt, Natalya? Are you there? What’s going on?”
“I’m here,” I quickly say, realizing I haven’t been paying any attention to anything other than Dominic’s soft touch and the downright feral look in his eyes. When I reposition my hips to get a little more comfortable and settle back against him, my mouth drops open at the hard length I’m now sitting on. He doesn’t say anything, but I see the way the corner of his mouth lifts in the smallest of smirks, and I swear his eyes turn a shade darker.
“Tell me what happened?”
I focus on my dad’s voice and switch to English so Dominic can hear the story too, refusing to think about the hard dick beneath my ass. Starting from when we left the parking garage, I tell them everything that happened, and when I finish, both men are silent.
“Is Grigori okay?” I finally ask.
I hear my dad’s heavy sigh. “I’m not sure yet. He called for backup, and they were able to get there fast enough to get rid of his gun before the police and ambulance showed up. I have men searching the area, trying to find out who’s behind this, but it might take a while before we know anything.”
“I left him, Dad,” I whisper. “He covered me with his body and saved my life and then told me to drive to Dominic’s, and I did. I just left him there.”
Dominic’s face softens when he wipes away the tears that have started falling again, and I clutch his white, button-up shirt with my free hand, needing to ground myself to something.
“You could’ve died if you’d stayed,” my dad reminds me. “Grigori knew what the job required before he agreed to it, princess, and he would not have wanted you to stay. He would’ve felt like he’d failed you if you had, and I would’ve had to kill him.”
“Dad,” I say, hoping he’s joking.
“His job is to make sure you’re safe and to keep you alive no matter what. I know it sounds harsh, but your life is worth more to me than his. He’s been watching over you since you were born, and he never would’ve forgiven himself if something had happened to you, and I would’ve never forgiven him. Thank you for leaving.” He lets out another breath, and I can easily picture him running a hand through his hair while pacing the floor. “I told you I couldn’t survive losing a child, Natalya, and I meant it. My family is everything to me. I need all of you.”
“I know, Dad. That’s why I left. I remembered what you told me, and I ran.”
“I’m so glad you did. God, your mom is going to have a fit when I tell her what’s happened.”
“Well, you don’t have to tell her all the details.”
He lets out a soft laugh. “She’ll know I’m lying, and she’ll get it out of me. She always does.”
I can’t help but smile. “My dad, the fearless underground fighter and Bratva boss.”
“None of that means shit when I’m talking to the woman I love, you know that. She has me wrapped around her finger, and I love it.” I hear his phone ding, and a few seconds later he says, “I need to go, sweetheart. We’re all meeting at your Uncle Roman’s. Dominic says you can stay there, but I can come and get you.”
“No,” I say, probably quicker than I should, so I hurry up and add, “I’d rather stay here, if that’s okay. I’m not ready to go back out there.”
“Let me know if you change your mind, and I’ll be there. I love you, honey.”
“I love you too, Dad.”
I hand Dominic his phone back, and he keeps his eyes on mine while he says, “She can stay here as long as she needs to. I can have one of my men pick up some of her things if you want to get a bag ready.”
“She’s not moving in, Dominic,” I hear my dad say. It’s not an angry tone, but it’s not all that friendly either.
“I think she should for a little while.”
My eyes widen at that, and he gives me another soft smirk before he continues.
“We don’t know who attacked them or why. It’s possible it was random. It was in my territory, and I already have men looking into it, but something tells me this has nothing to do with me or my family. This feels personal, and if Natalya was their target, then the safest place she can be is here. There’s no reason to put anyone else in your family in danger, and they’ll never expect her to be hiding out with the Alessi family.”
My dad is silent while Dominic rests his hand back on my hip.
“I give you my word that she’ll be safe here, Lev. I’ll guard her with my life.”
“Fine,” my dad growls out. “Don’t let her out of your sight. I’ll have Mia pack a bag for her if you want to send one of your men over. Call me if you hear anything.”
“I will.”
My dad hangs up right before Dominic puts his phone away. I’m still straddling his lap, his hand is still resting on my hip, and the hard length of him is nestled tightly against my ass. I have no idea what to do. Part of me wants to hop up in embarrassment, and the other part of me wants to pull him closer and press my lips to his. He makes me want things I know I shouldn’t want.
Paralyzed with indecision, I sit on his lap and watch him. The man is gorgeous. His age doesn’t take away from that. If anything, it just adds to it. I love the tiny bit of grey that’s just starting to come in around his temples and the small lines that appear at the corners of his eyes when he gives me a big smile. I love how safe he makes me feel, I love how powerful he is, and I love the overprotective way he is with me. When he’d caught Svetlana and me in his club, he hadn’t treated her the same way. She and I both noticed it, and when I’d pulled up to his house tonight, he hadn’t reacted like any other man in his mafia would have. He’d acted like a man who cared about me, like a man who was distraught over the idea of me being hurt—not the idea of Lev Melnikov’s daughter being hurt, but of me being hurt.
His dark eyes run over my body, and my breath hitches when I feel his cock press even harder against me. At the sound of it, his eyes lift to settle on my lips. He watches me, his jaw in a tense line, fingers digging harder into my hips, before finally pulling his eyes back to mine.
“Maybe you staying here wasn’t such a great idea.”
His voice is low, accent thicker, and when I clutch his shirt tighter and lean closer, he lets out a soft groan.
“I want to stay here. I feel safe with you, Dominic.”
The look he gives me is ravenous. “You shouldn’t, principessa. Safe is the last thing you are with me.”
Instinct has me leaning closer, even though my internal fight-or-flight is screaming at me to get some space between his cock and my body. Ignoring that part of my brain, I bring one hand up to his face, grazing his stubbled jaw with the tips of my fingers. He doesn’t move, just watches me as I memorize every inch of his chiseled jaw, but when I lean even closer, he groans and cups my face, holding me still.
“You need to get cleaned up. I can show you the room you’ll be staying in.”
“I don’t want to get cleaned up right now.”
He lets out another soft groan and runs his thumb along my top lip. He whispers something in Italian that sounds sexy as hell.
“What does that mean?”
“It means it’s time for you to go and get cleaned up.”
The corner of his mouth lifts up again at the scowl I give him. “That’s not what it meant.”
“Do you speak Italian?”
“No.”
“Then I guess you’ll never know.”
Irritated that he won’t tell me, I tilt my head and swipe my tongue over the thumb that’s still hovering by my mouth, and say in Russian, “I want you to kiss me, Dominic, and then I want you to carry me to your bed and show me all the things I’ve been missing.”
The look he gives me has me letting out a soft laugh. “I take it you never got around to learning Russian.”
“I’ve been busy.” When I don’t say anything, his eyes narrow slightly while he tries to figure me out. “You’re not going to translate?”
“I will if you will.”
“I guess we’ll both have to remain in the dark.”
Before I can argue, he grabs my hips and lifts me off him like I weigh nothing. When he stands, I run my eyes over him. It’s impossible to not notice the way his cock is straining against his pant leg. My fingers itch to reach out to him, but he quickly repositions himself and buttons his suit jacket, effectively hiding himself from my hungry eyes.
When I look up at him, there’s an amused grin playing at his lips, and when I frown even harder, he lets out a soft laugh.
“Come on, principessa, you’ll feel better after a bath.”
Part of me wants to argue, but the bigger part of me really wants to wash Grigori’s blood off, so I follow him out of his office and up a wide staircase, my bare feet absorbed by the plush carpet before I remember my scraped feet. I stop and lift one foot up, looking to see how bad it is. I’d been so hyped up on adrenaline and fear and then distracted by Dominic and the ache he always causes between my legs to worry about my feet, but when I see the scrapes and dried blood, I hiss out a breath and look up at him.
Hearing me, he pauses on the steps and looks back at me. As soon as he sees the blood, he growls something in Italian and picks me back up again.
“You said you weren’t hurt.”
He sounds pissed, so I quickly look back at the small blood stains I’ve left on his stairs. “I’m so sorry. I’ll clean the stains out as soon as I’m out of the bath.”
He stops mid-step and meets my eyes. “Do you seriously think I give a fuck about my carpet right now?”
“I thought that’s why you were mad,” I admit.
“I’m irritated because you’ve been hurt this whole time, and I should’ve taken better care of you.”
“Oh,” is all my stunned mind can manage, because that never once occurred to me.
He sighs and surprises the hell out of me by pulling me closer and kissing my forehead. “Forgive me, principessa. I’m not used to watching over anyone.”
He carries me up the stairs and down a long hall. I glance around, not even trying to hide my curiosity, and when he brings me into the last room at the end and opens the door, I’m expecting a sparse guest room, but instead he steps into a room that’s obviously being lived in. The king-size bed doesn’t even begin to fill the massive room. The walls are painted a masculine blue, making the white trim stand out even more, and when I see the large picture that’s framed on the wall, I can’t look away. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s a picture of a sculpture, a woman who’s being held by a man, actively trying to get away from him, but he has a tight hold on her, fingers digging into her thigh and hip, holding her in place no matter how much she fights him. The work is unlike anything I’ve ever seen, the way his fingers show indentions on her marbled thigh, the expression of terror on her face, and the way the three-headed dog is snapping at her heels, making it clear that there’s no escape for this woman—I’m drawn to it in a way that I don’t fully understand.
When he walks me into the connecting bathroom and the picture disappears from view, I turn my head to try and get another glimpse.
“What was that?”
“The picture?”
“Yeah, I’ve never seen anything like it.”
He sets me down on the counter and slips out of his suit jacket, tossing it down next to me. He rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt, revealing the tatted-up forearms that I haven’t once stopped thinking about.
“Do you like it?”
I’m so focused on his tanned, colorful forearms that I forget all about the picture he’s talking about and instead reach a finger out to trace the octopus tattoo that stretches down his inner arm. The talent behind the art is stunning. It looks like it’s alive, like it’s about to stretch one tentacled arm out and touch me.
“I love it,” I whisper, grazing my finger over the vein in his arm that appears to be a part of the sea creature. It’s not a tattoo I would’ve expected to see on him, and I love that he always surprises me. The rest of his arms are covered in images of skulls, black roses with blood dripping from them, a raven with his hungry mouth open and waiting, and an hourglass that’s empty and shattered—all of them molded into an intricate design that’s mesmerizing and a little scary. It’s a sharp contrast to the octopus, and I wish I knew its significance. I want to know everything about this man.
When I hear his soft laugh, I look up at him. “What?”
“I was talking about the picture in my room. Do you like it?”
Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I know I’m beet red when I say, “Oh, yeah, I like it a lot.” I think about the way the man had been holding the woman and of how desperate she was to get away from him. “I probably shouldn’t, I guess, because it’s kind of grim, but I also couldn’t look away and already want to see it again. It’s violent, but it’s also beautiful.”
His eyes soften at my answer. “What makes it beautiful to you?”
I shrug. “The talent behind it is beautiful, the way it’s a marble statue, but you can see the indents on her thighs from how hard he’s gripping her. I can’t imagine how difficult it would be to create something like that. It’s also beautiful because it made me feel so many different things at once. It’s the kind of art you could get lost in.”
Embarrassed by my rambling, I let out a soft laugh and look away. “I don’t know. I really don’t know what I’m talking about. I don’t know much about art. I’m probably way off.”
He hooks a finger under my chin and pulls my face back, so I’m facing him again. “I like hearing your honest thoughts about things. If I’d wanted a professional art critic”s opinion, I could’ve Googled it.”
The corner of my mouth lifts up at his tone. He keeps his finger under my chin for a few more seconds before stepping back with an audible sigh. Squatting down, he grabs onto one of my feet, lifting it so he can see the damage.
“The statue is called The Rape of Proserpina, although abduction is a better translation, and it’s by an Italian sculptor named Gian Lorenzo Bernini. It was made in the 1600s, and when I saw it for the first time in Rome, I did exactly what you just said. I stood there and stared at it for hours. I was completely lost in it—the beauty and violence and craftsmanship. I couldn’t look away.”
“What is it about?”
He runs his thumb over the bottom of my foot, checking for cuts, and I bite my bottom lip to hold back the groan that’s threatening to rise up.
“You’re probably more familiar with her name from Greek mythology—Persephone. Bernini is showing Pluto, or Hades, taking her to the Underworld.”
“He kidnapped her?”
He gives my foot one more caress before gently letting it go and reaching for my other one. His brown eyes lift to mine. “He saw her and he wanted her, so he took her.”
My heart races at his words and the intent way he’s staring at me.
Finally, he looks away and says, “It was a myth to explain the seasons. When Persephone is in the Underworld, it’s winter. When she’s returned to her mother, it’s spring.”
I suck in a quick breath when he hits a tender part of my foot. “Did she fall in love with him?”
He lifts a dark brow. “With the man who kidnapped her?”
“Yes. Did she?”
He gives a small grin. “Depends on which myth you believe.” Looking down to see my foot better, he asks, “Do you think she was capable of falling in love with a monster?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “Maybe he wasn’t a monster with her. Maybe she’s the one person he wasn’t a monster with.”
“The principessa is a romantic,” he murmurs.
“Maybe I am.” I meet his dark eyes and then hiss out another breath when he hits a cut on my heel.
“I am sorry about your feet.” He sounds so distraught over the idea of my feet being a little cut that I immediately reach out to comfort him, resting my opened palm against his cheek.
“I’m fine. It barely hurts.”
He leans into my touch just enough for me to feel the increased pressure against my hand. It’s obvious he hasn’t shaved for a few days, and his light beard tickles my skin while sending a shiver down my spine. Grabbing my hand, he presses me harder against him before pulling back to kiss my palm.
When I reposition myself, my dress slides up a bit, and he growls another string of angry Italian when he sees my bloody knees. My lips part when he runs his hands up my calves to grip the backs of my knees. The soft caress against my skin reminds me of the night he’d driven Svetlana and me back to the farmhouse, and goosebumps rise along my skin.
He notices and lifts his dark eyes to mine. The heat in them has an ache starting between my legs. It’s a familiar feeling that happens every time he’s near, and when instinct has me parting my thighs another inch, he groans and tightens his fingers, digging them into my skin in a possessive grip that makes me think of Bernini’s sculpture and the way Hades’s fingers had dug into Persephone’s thigh, marking her and claiming her as his.
His eyes drag over my body in a slow sweep that starts at my eyes and ends at the peek of inner thigh he’s getting. It would be so easy for him to lift my dress and see everything, but he doesn’t move his hands. If anything, he grips me tighter like he’s actively trying to resist ripping my dress up. My fingers brush along his light beard where my palm is still pressed against his face, and the sigh he gives is just as shaky as my breaths.
“You are pure temptation, principessa, and that’s a very dangerous thing to be around a man like me.”
“Why?” I whisper.
His pupils are blown when he meets my eyes again. “Because I want you, and everything inside me is screaming at me to take what I want.”
I can feel every rapid beat of my heart pounding against my chest when I lean closer so our faces are only a few short inches apart. I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve always known I’ve been living a sheltered life, but never has that been more apparent than right now. I’ve never even been kissed before, and I’m leaning towards this sexy man like I know what the hell I’m doing. I’m clueless, and he must sense it because he tightens his grip on my legs and pulls back before our lips can touch. I try to hide the hurt I feel, but I know he can see the embarrassed flush of my skin.
He closes his eyes and softly shakes his head before standing and letting his hands drop from my legs. “I’ll get you something you can wear.”
I watch him leave, running my eyes over his broad shoulders and trim waist before settling on the world’s firmest ass. I keep watching until I can no longer see him, and I’m still staring at the empty doorway when he reappears a few minutes later, carrying a white T-shirt and navy blue joggers.
“These are going to be huge on you, but at least they have a drawstring so you can tighten the waist. I’ll send one of my men to get your bag while you’re getting cleaned up.” He sets the clothes down and walks to the large tub in the corner. Turning on the taps, it starts to fill while he grabs a towel and washcloth and the shampoo and body wash from the massive, walk-in shower.
“Let me know if you need anything else, and I’ll make sure you get it.”
Giving me one last look, he turns to leave, but I jump down from the counter and grab his wrist, stopping him and wincing all at the same time.
He groans and lifts me off my sore feet, shaking his head in irritation. “After your bath I’m bandaging your feet and you’re staying off them for the rest of the night.”
Setting me on the edge of the tub, he turns off the water and then cups the back of my head. He looks like he’s about to say something, but instead he leans closer and presses a soft kiss to my forehead.
“Holler when you’re done, principessa, and I’ll carry you to your bed.”
Without waiting for a response, he turns and walks out, shutting the door behind him.