Chapter 8 Loriana #2
“If necessary.” He doesn’t flinch from the accusation, doesn’t try to soften the brutal reality of his world. “Is that going to be a problem for you, stellina? The knowledge that men will die to keep you safe?”
The casual way he discusses murder makes my stomach tighten with what I think is horror, until I realize the sick twist in my gut is actually satisfaction. Some dark part of me craves this promise of retribution against the faceless threats terrorizing my daily life.
What does that make me? What kind of person feels relieved at the prospect of violence in their name?
“I don’t want anyone to die because of me,” I whisper, though I’m not entirely sure it’s true.
“Then you should have stayed away from my world.” His voice carries a hint of regret, but his expression remains implacable. “You made your choice when you walked into the Viper’s Den. When you kissed me in your bar. When you pulled me into your bed and gave me your innocence.”
Word by word, he dismantles my defenses until I’m trembling and raw. The attraction burns between us, fierce and inescapable.
“That was just sex,” I lie, though we both know it was so much more. “We both needed the release.”
“Was it?” He rounds the desk with predatory grace, backing me against the window with slow, deliberate steps. “Because what I remember is you crying my name like a prayer. Begging me not to stop. Clinging to me like I was your redemption.”
Each word hits its mark with devastating accuracy, stripping away my armor until I’m raw and unprotected. The attraction between us pulses like a heartbeat, insistent and impossible to ignore.
“Stop,” I breathe, but the word lacks conviction.
“Stop what? Stop remembering how perfectly you fit around me? How sweet you tasted? How your body responded to every touch like it was made for my hands?” He braces his palms against the window on either side of my head, caging me between solid muscle and glass.
“I think about it constantly, stellina. How tight you were, how you trembled when I—”
“I said stop.” This time there’s steel in my voice, enough to make him pause. “I didn’t come here for this. I came for answers, for help with the threats. Not to relive a mistake I’ve been trying to forget.”
“A mistake.” His smile is sharp enough to cut glass. “Is that what you call the best night of your life? A mistake?”
“I call it what it was—a momentary lapse in judgment that won’t be repeated.”
“Won’t it?” He leans closer, until his breath ghosts across my lips and his cologne floods my senses with memories of tangled sheets and desperate passion. “Tell me you haven’t thought about it every night since. Tell me you haven’t touched yourself while remembering exactly how I made you feel.”
Heat floods my cheeks because he’s absolutely right, and the knowing gleam in his dark eyes tells me my reaction has given me away completely.
“Have you been a good girl, stellina?” His voice drops to that whisper that makes my toes curl in my boots. “Have you stayed away from other men like I told you to?”
The possessive question makes anger flare in my chest, hot and bright. “You don’t own me, Simeone. One night doesn’t give you the right to dictate my life.”
“Doesn’t it?” His thumb traces the rapid pulse in my throat with devastating gentleness.
“Because from where I’m standing, your body is telling a very different story.
Your heart is racing, your pupils are dilated, and you’re looking at my mouth like you’re remembering exactly how it tastes. And you’d like to devour it again.”
I am remembering, God help me. And the memory is driving me slowly insane with need I don’t understand and can’t control.
“Answer the question,” he commands softly. “Have you been with anyone else?”
“No.” The admission slips out before I can stop it, honest and raw. “But not because you told me not to. Because I haven’t wanted anyone else.”
The satisfaction that blazes across his features is primal, possessive, absolutely devastating. “Good girl.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why not? It’s what you are when you obey me.” His other hand comes up to cup my face, tilting my chin until I’m forced to meet his intense stare. “And you will obey me, stellina. In all the ways that matter.”
“Like hell I will.”
“We’ll see.” He steps back abruptly, leaving me cold and bereft against the window. “I’ll handle the threats. Within forty-eight hours, the messages will stop and whoever’s behind them will understand the consequences of touching what belongs to me.”
“I don’t belong to you,” I protest, but the words sound hollow even to my own ears.
“Keep telling yourself that.” He moves to his desk and picks up a business card, extending it toward me. “When you’re ready to stop lying to yourself, when you need what only I can give you, call this number. Day or night, I’ll answer.”
Ah Lori, I think to myself, you now have a fucking Mafia Lord as a call boy. Well done.
I take the card with trembling fingers, noting the heavy cardstock and embossed lettering. No company name, no title—just a phone number in elegant script.
“What can you give me?” I ask, though I’m afraid of the answer.
“Everything your body craves. Every fantasy you’ve been too afraid to acknowledge.
Every dark desire you’ve discovered since I touched you.
” His smile is pure sin wrapped in expensive fabric.
“You’re awakening to yourself, stellina.
To the passionate woman underneath all that careful control.
And when you’re ready to embrace her completely, I’ll be waiting. ”
Between us, his promise throbs like a heartbeat—mine or his, I can’t tell. The card becomes an anchor in my shaking hands, though I’m not sure if it’s keeping me afloat or dragging me under.
“I should go,” I whisper, though every cell in my body is screaming at me to stay.
“Yes, you should.” But he makes no move to escort me out, content to watch me struggle with the magnetic pull he exerts without even trying. “Before I decide that you’ve been good long enough to deserve a reward.”
“What kind of reward?” The question slips out before I can stop it, breathless and needy.
His laugh is dark honey, rich and intoxicating. “The kind that would leave you ruined for any other man.”
I flee then, practically running for the door before I can do something spectacularly stupid like ask for a demonstration. Behind me, his laughter follows like a caress, and just as I reach the threshold, his voice stops me cold.
“Stellina?”
I pause without turning around, every nerve ending on fire.
“If you thought the first time was good,” he says, his voice carrying the weight of absolute promise, “the next time will be even better. Now that you’re ready to be thoroughly fucked.”
The crude words hit me like a physical caress, making heat pool low in my belly despite my best efforts to remain unaffected. I don’t trust myself to respond, so I flee through his mansion like the hounds of hell are nipping at my heels.
But as I drive away from his estate, the business card burning a hole in my pocket, I know with terrifying certainty that it’s not hell I’m running from.
It’s heaven. Dark, dangerous, absolutely devastating heaven that promises to consume me completely if I’m brave enough to let it.
And God help me, I’m starting to think I am.