Chapter 6
Luca
VIVIENNE STARED WITH cool eyes that were somehow gentle.
I’d prefer her small fists pummeling my stomach.
Wrath was easy to manage. But warmth? That was a non-existent paradigm in my life up to this point, and I could only experiment with the concept.
Inching forward, I grazed my fingers against the swell of her cheek.
Though her lids widened when my hand opened, she didn’t revolt from my touch.
Instead, she leaned into the hold I offered.
“You’re not frightened of me?”
She shook her head a fraction. “I’m not afraid of the dark.”
Something irrational shot through my veins.
Something hot and possessive. I ignored it and studied her hair that was twisted into a disheveled knot, pinned to the top of her head.
A complete opposite look to Sofia’s perfected presentation.
Her skin was as clear as porcelain, except for a fading pastel bruise under my palm where I held her.
She smelled fresh and sweet and different, and my gut demanded to understand the reasons for the disparity.
“Why did you leave the party, princess?”
Anger snapped her spine into alignment. “Don’t call me that.”
“I meant no offense.” I stepped back, not hiding how my lip twitched.
“Do I amuse you?”
“No,” I said, any hint of enjoyment sliding from my features. “I find you fascinating.”
Nothing had ever been so true. The whole tiny package named Vivienne Cabello was interesting. The air of innocence. How she snubbed her nose at the recruit. The sharp temper. This hot little body, tight dress, and the neckline dipping low enough, her cleavage spiked a heartbeat in my dick.
“How did you even know where I was?” she asked.
As soon as she’d descended the stairs, I watched her, curious to learn what kind of woman made my blood burn. When Sofia pointed that scum in the direction she had gone, it lit on fire. Those same flames curled my fingers into a fist by my side. “The recruit. He wanted you, you know.”
“Me?” She pressed her hand to her chest.
“Why is that a surprise?”
She let out an incredulous laugh. “You’re mistaken. He must have thought my cousin was here.”
I understood false modesty. But a flush raced up Vivienne’s chest, and a snort trailed her chuckle. Neither of which convinced me she was waiting for a compliment.
“Men don’t seek me out,” she said with a small smile. “They follow Sofia. You may have seen her. Tall. Curves everywhere. Eyes like diamonds. Perfect ten.”
“I met her earlier. Dark hair. Shimmering dress.”
Her grin faded. “Then you know why he couldn’t possibly be looking for me.”
“I know exactly why he followed you, and what he wanted to do.” Drug her.
Fuck her. Brag about the conquest to the other men.
A sneer tugged at my lips. I wanted to break every bone in his body, then feed him whimpering and bloody to sharks in the bay.
Killing him wasn’t an option, so I held out a hand.
“I’ll take the cocaine. Unless you want it? ”
“What?” She glanced at her fist, then shoved the vial toward me. “No, of course not. I don’t do that stuff.”
“I didn’t think so,” I said, slipping the blow into the inside pocket of my jacket.
“How could you be so sure?”
“Years of training to understand the enemy.”
“And I’m your enemy?”
More than you will ever know. “You’re the king’s daughter, which makes you—”
“A princess,” she spat, squaring her shoulders. “I get it. So we both know about my family, but who are you?” She crossed her arms, pushing up tits I had no business appreciating.
My gaze swung to hers again, but it only took a second to slide down to her lips. Full, pink, and slightly parted. I swallowed while Dante’s threat filled my head. I wasn’t afraid of him or anyone for that matter—but Vivienne and what she did to my pulse?
Crist. She probably wasn’t even legal. That thought sickened my stomach and crushed my sharp response into a gentle answer.
“I am many things.”
She just nodded, as if she’d already guessed. “Tell me.”
“Sinner.”
“As are we all,” she agreed.
“Ghost.”
She winked. “So I’ve heard, but you look fairly solid to me.”
“Prince of blood and bones.”
Her shoulders shook, her mouth trembling with laughter. I nearly rolled my eyes. Did she have no sense?
“Be serious,” she demanded.
I was. “Master of smoke and ash.”
A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, then she flashed a smile that hurt my chest. Before I recovered, she turned, walking the perimeter of the room. I followed like a goddamn puppy.
“You tease me,” she said when I caught up to her. “Tell me your name, or should I call you what I want?”
“And what would that be?”
She blinked to a priceless masterpiece lit and glowing like her cheeks. “Il mio bel salvatore.”
The words washed over me like a salve for blistered skin. But they were wrong. She was wrong.
“I’m no savior, Vivienne. You may call me Monster.”
Her brow scrunched, and she hung her head in thoughtful contemplation. The confession should’ve ended the debate, but I was wrong again. As I was beginning to believe, I would always be with Vivienne.
“I thought that before we met,” she said. “I thought that of all of my father’s recruits. But that’s not true of you.”
“Why?”
“A monster is large, which you are. And frightening, which you can be. But a monster is also a threat, and you are not—at least not to me.”
“You’re mistaken.”
Her chin notched up with a streak of insolence. “Am I? Would you restrain me?”
In bed, naked, with my belt around your wrists and my fingers around your throat.
Heat burned through her cheeks as if she guessed my thoughts. Then she shook her head. “I mean, would you restrain me against my will, as Pietro did?”
“No,” I bit the word through my teeth.
“Would you hold a gun to my temple until I begged—”
“For your life, never.” What I wanted was Vivienne kneeling, her gaze focused intently on my straining zipper, with my hands clenched in her hair. And good Lord in heaven, if there ever was one, she would beg for me then. Fuck. “I am not a nice man.”
“I disagree.”
I recoiled a step. She followed, pressing into my space and looking up with those wide, frosty eyes.
Tension coiled around my lungs like a rope pulling taut, and I couldn’t breathe.
The collection of paintings retreated until there was nothing but the two of us.
The longer we stared, the easier it was to spot nuances in her features.
A tiny scar digging into an eyebrow. The sharp bow of her lips.
Thick, black lashes fluttering closed against silky, young skin. So very young.
“Are you even eighteen?”
She blinked, then her grin returned. “Just. Today is my birthday.”
Fanculo. “Vivienne.”
“Tell me your name,” she demanded after I slipped and said hers out loud.
“Luca Mancini.”
She nodded. “And what do you do, Luca Mancini, when you’re not at a party ready to pledge yourself to the Cosa Nostra?”
“I kill people.”
She didn’t move, and I shut my mouth. What more could I say when the truth destroyed more than her misguided hope?
Facts crushed dreams. Mine died before I had any memories.
Anna and her belt were partially to blame for my resentment, but as the years passed, apathy was something I learned to appreciate.
Expectation is the root cause of remorse. If you don’t feel, there is no pain.
Vivienne Cabello was just another face among many in a lifetime. Walking away from her wasn’t harder than I’d done with any other woman. Though my chest filled with a frustrating weight when I turned to do so.
A soft hand caught my wrist.
“Don’t.”
One word. Not a plea or a demand. Just a word in a voice as smooth as her skin.
I studied her hand, wondering why sparks ignited under her touch.
Probably because it’d been months since I’d fucked or fought, and it was time to do both.
With someone other than this girl who wasn’t my type, even though being near her made my flesh burn from the inside out.
A rough noise scratched my throat as I shook out of her hold. Then I waited for her to cower like everyone else did when faced with my anger. She just notched up her chin and held her ground.
I nearly rolled my eyes. “I’m not a good person, Vivienne.”
“But you rescued me, mio salvatore.”
Che cazzo. “Don’t call me that.”
“It’s true.” She shrugged. “And there’s still time.”
“For what?”
“To protect you from my father.” She pressed her palm against my erratic heartbeat. “And to save your soul.”
“Gesù Cristo.”
For a second, I imagined what a life free of the red-hot rage might be like—all I saw was chaos.
Truthfully, I had the devil inside me, and that was precisely why I was perfect for the Cosa Nostra.
Nothing could save me from myself. Not even a sweet girl with heaven in her eyes or hope in her heart.
Though it was cute, she thought she could.
It was also annoying, and irritation rolled through me, a feeling so familiar that I basked in the warmth.
“Do you have any idea what happens to pretty little things who tempt grown men?”
I caught her eyes, then her hand, pushing it down inch-by-inch to my belt buckle.
I paused before her fingers met my goddamn hard-on.
There wasn’t room in my world for guilt.
Remorse had ruined nastier men than me, and up until now, I hadn’t experienced so much as a second thought.
Just the idea of forcing Vivienne left a pinch of bitterness in my mouth.
I needed a drink to wash it down. What I wanted more was to press her against the wall and fuck the hope out of her eyes. Eradicating the anger within myself would be a bonus to the deed, because somehow I thought being inside her would provide that kind of absolution.
This little bird with her gray hair and big eyes fucked with my head. But I knew better. I knew exactly what women in the Cosa Nostra were after—husbands. Dating didn’t exist in this world—marriage contracts did.
“Why did you stop?” she asked.
“Because you’re not interested in what I have to offer.”
“How do you know?”
“I’m not the marrying kind of man, Ms. Cabello.”
A flush raced up her neck, bursting over her cheeks and the little scowl that followed. My teeth clenched, and my dick grew harder.
“That’s what you think I want?” She snapped her hand away from mine, adding a violent crack to her tone that I matched.
“Isn’t it? Isn’t a husband what your cousin is after?”
“Non essere un idiota. If you haven’t noticed, I’m not Sofia.” She poked my chest. “You don’t know anything about me, or what I see in you.” She poked again, hissing “stronzo” with a biting edge.
A spark ignited beneath her finger. I snatched her wrist, tugging her into my body. “What do you see?”
“Pain.”
I laughed and jerked her even closer. “Try again.”
“Regret.”
“Not even for a second.”
“Honor.”
The spark erupted into flames, searing through what integrity was left in my dark heart. I rushed her and her insolence and we slammed into the wall, exactly where I imagined her a moment ago.
Instead of sliding my fingers up her thigh and under the white cotton I knew I’d find at the apex, I stabbed my fingers into her hair, pulling out pins.
I wanted it down, and when it was, I wrapped the silky length around my fist, once, twice, pulling to expose the long column of her neck.
I panted into her skin, my lips and my teeth just a breath away from taking what I wanted.
She whimpered, and I hiked up her knee to settle into her heat. Electricity zipped through my veins, urging me to taste the forbidden. A little bite. Something to savor.
Take her. Tame her. Make her mine.
My monster howled.
I pressed my mouth to her pulse, the tip of my tongue making contact. A wave of warmth rolled through me, quieting the demon. But the silence left me raw, when I needed to rage. It was the only way I’d survive this, so I scraped my teeth over her neck hard enough to bruise.
“Is this the kind of honor you speak of?” I pressed the words beneath her ear, then moved down to the deep dip in her cleavage. She smelled like vanilla and sin. Something so tempting that sense returned, and I pulled away.
Frost and flames.
Her cool eyes burned for me.
Cazzo di Cristo.
Vivienne liked a rough hand. Dominance when there wasn’t a submissive bone in her body.
She liked to fight and feel. I groaned. All of this was a mistake, and I didn’t make many.
Yet I couldn’t think straight when she shuddered against me.
When she touched me, with an air of absolute innocence that she would allow a man like me to defile.
“Do you understand now? I’m no better than any other monster in this house.” The angry truth vibrated through my tone. “I am not your salvation. I’m a second from becoming your destruction.”
I wanted her shaking and scared. I needed her to run. Instead, her gaze dropped to my lips, and she cupped my cheeks. Each second, she inched closer, so close that we breathed the same air. One more inch, and she’d kiss me.
“Don’t,” I gritted through my teeth.
“Why?”
“That fucking pout must be given to someone willing to give you a ring.”
“That again,” she hissed. “It’s just a kiss. Why won’t you take it from me?”
“Perché non è il tesoro che cerco. Because it’s not the treasure I’m after.”
Pain flashed in her eyes. I’d add that to the bag of remorse I’d take with me after an hour with Vivienne. This had already gone far beyond proving a point, so I left her to slump against the wall alone.
I couldn’t keep playing games with the king’s daughter. A gut feeling told me I’d lose everything if I did.