5. Luca
In all of my years, I’ve never stumbled across something so peculiar. I could snuff her life out within minutes and make it look like an accident. Hell, I’d even make a show of attending her funeral.
No one gets this close to me. That’s where the novelty has become curiosity. I also have suspicions of who exactly put her up to this. Just as easily, this could work in my favor.
Dead or alive.
I find it no coincidence that on the same night I flew back to Italy, I found out twenty million worth of my cocaine was stolen. Then when I arrived at the family mansion, this little viper was in my office. Of all the people it might’ve been, I was not expecting Alexander Barone’s do-gooding daughter.
“What do you want from me?” she demands. I inhale, breathing in the scent of her orchid perfume. Beneath it I can smell her fear. Fuck, I’m aroused by it. Where she didn’t give me any glimpse of it last night, I can detect it now. She’s been exposed, her dirty little stalking secrets out, and I find it intriguing to watch the calculative, sharp mind of hers at play as to how she might create an out.
“I wonder what Daddy would say if he found out his daughter was a little stalker,” I say as I pull away. From this angle the lighting draws flickers of blue from her green cat-like eyes under thick eyelashes. Ara has curves no woman should legally be entitled to. No wonder she found it easy to use my brother to sneak into the mansion. Something that pisses me off to no end. She was cunning, but manageable.
Because as of last night, I suddenly became interested in everything about Arabella Barone. I knew the moment I found her in my office she wasn’t just some little pretty thing my brother had picked up from the club. No, every wobble of her lip and expression in her gaze was cool calculation.
I wrap my hand around her throat with a bruising grip. I could choke the very life out of her right now. And if she dare tries to use the blade against me, I won’t hesitate to kill her. I’m certain the realization is what keeps her in place.
The difference between Arabella and me is that I’m a killer.
She is not.
Yet.
“What do you want?” she grits out. I like the fight that dances in her gaze. She doesn’t know how to deal with me. No one ever does. But she’s trying to figure it out.
“You know I kill. However, your calculations are off,” I advise. “The number you’ve estimated is far less.”
Her gaze narrows on me and she looks genuinely pissed I’ve invalidated her intel and gatherings. I chuckle. I’m enjoying this far too much.
“You see, where you lack in experience playing stalker and spy, I can buy all the intel I need. Which led me straight here to you after the little stunt you pulled last night. So, you have a choice. Die in this room with your little photo collection or be my little dog.”
“Excuse me?” Her tone is cutting. A little more pressure is applied to the tip of the blade against my chest but I’m certain she won’t do anything. She doesn’t know how.
“Well, last night you showed you’re shit at being anyone’s whore. Quite frankly, you’re not my type.”
“You don’t have a type,” she snaps. And I can’t help but smile at how easy it is to antagonize her. Not at all the kind of person I thought she might be. Perhaps I’m not the only one who pretends to be what the public wants—which makes it all the more fascinating to play with her for a while.
I’m not entirely sure what part Arabella’s playing in this scheme is but I will unravel her and bring her father to his knees through her.
I just won’t kill them until I have the evidence I need.
I’m in a bad mood, but lucky for her, I’ve decided to stay around.
I lean into her, a whisper and powerful declaration all in one. “As of tonight, I own you Arabella Barone.” Her body stiffens. “Your secret is safe with me. For now.”