Chapter 14
CLAIRE
When I woke up the next morning, the first thing I noticed was the soreness between my legs. Mikhail had made me come twice last night. Both times were such intense releases that I didn’t have the energy to get up afterward.
Alone in the bedroom now, I sat up slowly. Sunshine filtered in from the curtains as I yawned, so rested yet so wired and instantly awake. I peered down at my bare body beneath the covers, recalling it all.
The fear of witnessing someone being tortured and the knowledge that Mikhail was a dangerous man.
The elation of coming for him so hard that it rendered me sleepy and sluggish.
His touch was imprinted on my flesh. The taste of his greedy kisses lingered on my lips.
“What have I done?” I groaned aloud, covering my face with my hands. Slumping back onto the bed, I let the covers drape over me.
I needed caffeine and food to fuel the analysis of why I’d caved to him last night, breaking my cool when we argued about whether I should be here at all. I knew I didn’t belong. Not with him. Not with a rugged, experienced, and powerfully lethal man twenty years my senior.
As I got up to shower and get dressed, I dismissed how he’d tucked me under the covers before leaving. How he must have wiped me clean because I wasn’t sticky. Hating that I’d fallen asleep and was unconscious while he cared for me like that, I scowled and hurried out of the room.
I couldn’t begin to dissect what I’d done. It was a moment of stupidity. A lapse in my sketchy judgment that I wouldn’t repeat.
But I knew damn well what he had done.
He’d taken advantage of the emotions running so high between us, preying on me to seduce me. He had come after me not to comfort me but to taunt me about how we’d both been avoiding this attraction since we’d met.
At first, he was just an enigma. A stranger who captured my attention. He wasn’t supposed to become my lover. My fling. My protector.
And as I entered the dining room, once more following the trail of scents that made my stomach growl, he wasn’t supposed to look so damn sexy and irresistible.
I drew in a deep breath, channeling all the confidence I thought I could have to not swoon.
Or to blush. Just seeing him seated at the table, his curious gaze lifting to me, unnerved me.
Being under his scrutiny felt different now.
It had to. He’d seen me naked. He’d had his face and hands on me up close. He’d—
“Morning,” he quipped dryly, that hint of amusement lurking in his almost smile.
Oh, hell.
I sat quickly, hoping my movement would prevent him from seeing how deeply I was blushing.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked a moment later after letting the silence stretch between us. It was tense and awkward on my part, but he was at ease. Calm. Like this was just any other day, not the morning after some of the most intense sex possible. That was what it was like for me.
My reply was a one-shouldered shrug. I had slept well. Deeply. The kind of thorough slumber that often came after an intense and hard workout.
I could barely meet his eye, much less say anything else.
I could hardly manage to eat, my fingers clumsy as he continued to watch me.
When I dropped a bite of eggs off my fork three times in a row, I gave up and let the utensil fall.
It clattered to the plate. Needing something stronger, I picked up my coffee mug with both hands and brought it to my lips.
“Don’t tell me that you’ll be shy now…”
Jerking my face up, I narrowed my eyes at his taunt. But facing him so directly was a punch in the gut.
How? How can you just look so… good? How can you be so good and bad for me?
Shame crept through me at the memories of how he’d fucked me so brutally last night. More embarrassment filled me at how much I’d enjoyed it. Horrified that I’d surrendered so easily to him, I struggled with this latent desire that provoked me to want him all over again.
“I’m not shy,” I replied as coolly as I could. The coffee helped chase away the lingering drowsiness. He really had fucked me silly.
“Good, because I’m hoping to talk.”
Ah, fuck.
I didn’t. I most certainly didn’t want to have a conversation about last night. Surprised that he would want to elaborate on how he’d fucked me, I wondered if he was just made differently.
Well, you know he is. I lost my virginity back in college, and I’d had a few flings here and there. I couldn’t guess if it was his age and experience or what, but I knew from just one time last night that this Mafia man would ruin me for anyone else.
“About how soon I can leave?” I asked.
He smirked. “I’m not buying that.”
“Oh.” I arched a brow, feeling confident with the snark that filled my head. “You think that last night has changed me?”
He only smiled. “It doesn’t matter if it’s changed you. It’s changed me.” He pointed at my neck. “Because I think I can get very used to seeing my mark on you.”
On instinct, I lifted my hand to press my fingertips to the abrasion on my skin. Recalling the hot, hungry pressure of his lips there teased me anew.
“I want to talk about you. Your background.”
I furrowed my brow. All traces of seduction and desire fell away. “Me?” I huffed. “What could you possibly need to know about me?”
“I need to look into everyone who comes into my inner circle.”
“Whoa.” I held my hands up. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. No. I’m not in any circle. You said it yourself. I’m just a guest, right? Someone you brought here because of that man trying to kill me to get to your nephew at the hospital.”
“Do you think you’re just a guest after last night?”
I gaped at him. “Do you think that just because we fucked, you can own me?”
His lack of a reply was chilling. He did think that!
“I’m only trying to get to know you, Claire.”
“You got to know me plenty last night.” Again, my cheeks warmed up at the memories that raised.
“Yes, but I can’t fully protect you unless I know what I’m dealing with. Who I’m dealing with.”
I set my coffee down again and crossed my arms. Defensive and annoyed, I watched him and again wondered if I was in too deep.
Too far. Because he had the unique ability to piss me off and turn me on at the same time.
With just his smirks and his dominant attitude, I wanted to linger and explore this connection with him.
“You’re not dealing with anyone. What are you implying?
That I’m someone special in your world? An agent or spy?
” I laughed bitterly and shook my head. “I haven’t even been here to be someone yet.
I just moved to the States not even a month ago.
I’ve only just started at that hospital.
This is supposed to be a stop on the way to a mission overseas.
” When he only watched me calmly, I scowled.
“What the hell do you think I could possibly know or represent?”
Before he could clarify, I pushed my chair back, ready to leave. It was one thing for him to trespass in my room last night and make me feel so good. This invasion into my life now, with this conversation, wasn’t so great.
“I have no connections. I don’t know any of you Mafia people. I’m a stranger tossed into your twisted world. And no matter how much I enjoyed last night, I’m not going to stay here.”
“What about Jack?” he asked, cutting to the chase.
My impulse to leave the room died out. Jack? He had my attention. “What?”
“Jack Harroun.”
“My coworker?”
He nodded. “What do you know about him?”
“Nothing,” I blurted incredulously. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I don’t know anyone. I don’t have any secrets or confidential news for you.”
Yet, once I replied, I wondered if I were a liar.
I didn’t know Jack all that well, but I had observed him at the hospital. Clamming up and hoping that Mikhail couldn’t detect that I was holding back, I thought back to how Jack had been talking to those Italians. How Jack had wanted to have Mikhail arrested before he’d regained consciousness.
“He is a doctor, like me. He’s been at that hospital for a while. He was there that first time I saw some of your men.”
He nodded slowly, as if waiting to see what else I’d share.
I shrugged, frowning as I replayed the memories of that day at the emergency department, my first experience with these Mafia families and the violence they represented.
“The day that restaurant was bombed,” I added.
Again, he nodded.
Furrowing my brow, I relived the fear of falling down to the floor after that drunk thug knocked into me. How he’d almost kicked me.
“That was you.”
He didn’t reply.
“When that guy was about to kick me—”
“A Giovanni,” he said.
“You’re the one who came up to keep him back.”
“As much as you want to paint me as the villain, Claire, I won’t stand by and watch you be harmed.” He stood, moving to leave the room.
“You didn’t know me,” I protested. How could he have cared? How could he have decided that I was worthy of his protection then?
“But I saw you. I noticed you in the middle of all that commotion. Professional and quick. Ready to help and give a shit about assholes who don’t deserve your sympathy.”
I swallowed hard as he rounded the table, staying on the opposite of it.
Reconciling this dangerous crime lord with the hero in my mind, I felt torn in half, twisted and so confused.
How was I supposed to even know what was safe or not anymore?
Under his touch and within the network of his resources, I was safe. I was unharmed.
Shuddering at the idea of fully accepting that this sinister criminal could be my personal hero, I lowered my gaze to the table as he left the room.
No. Stop, Claire.
He’s not your anything.
Mikhail was way too complicated to be mine.