Chapter Two
Lily
A long silence stretches on. All I hear is the frantic thumping of my heart. Can they hear it? God, I am hyperventilating. I am going to be sick.
Terror has me rooted on my feet. I can’t move, can’t talk, can’t look away from the man—no, devil—who is dominating the room like an apex predator governing his kingdom.
He looks relaxed but his eyes are dark and intense while they take me in.
His gaze sweeps down to my feet and up again, and I swear I feel it like a physical touch.
Then his deep voice breaks the silence. “What is your name?”
I swallow and manage to croak out “Lily,” as if it explains everything.
“She is Bianchi’s youngest daughter,” the man behind me supplies.
Well, now that he knows who I am, maybe things aren’t so bad. He wouldn’t harm the famiglia would he? Hope surges through me. And maybe it was a misunderstanding… Perhaps the dead body isn’t dead after all.
My eyes dart to the heap on the floor. Blood is slowly seeping from under the jacket, the pool expanding on the pristine carpet.
Yeah, sure, Lily, and any minute now Elvis is going to walk in with a latte and tell us he’s been living in Bali this whole time.
“Lily, do you know who I am?” His commanding voice snaps my wayward attention back to him, to his laser-sharp eyes.
I swallow hard and nod.
“Say it.”
I have to clear my voice twice before I can croak out, “Mr. Damiano Santaluccia.”
He seems satisfied with my answer and stalks closer. I clutch my purse to my chest, as if it could somehow shield me from him.
God, did he just grow bigger? He is huge, dwarfing me with his bulk, and worse, he seems to absorb all the light from the overhead lighting. I am tempted to take a step back, but I resist the urge.
Don’t show them your fear.
They already know I’m terrified. I internally facepalm myself.
There is something about him, something magnetic that makes it impossible to look away.
His hair is dark and slightly tousled, a strand falling on his forehead.
His face is handsome, with an angular jaw and full lips.
While I have never met him in person before, I have seen his pictures in the news articles, so his good looks don’t surprise me.
What is unexpected is the intensity of his eyes under his slanted brows as he scowls down at me.
When he is standing right before me, I can see that his eyes are not black, but chocolate brown, with a ring of amber around the pupil.
And they have me captured like a deer in the headlights before its inevitable end.
Damiano
Shit just got a lot more complicated.
I curiously watch the woman—girl?—in front of me. Terror is oozing out of her every pore but she still stands her ground, her green eyes locked on mine, her face deadly pale.
I can’t help but notice how beautiful she is, her demure black dress hiding nothing of her stunning figure. Her waist is slim while her bosom and hips are perfectly shaped for hands to grasp and hold on to while she is being thoroughly f—
Focus, asshole!
I frown. Why isn’t she begging for her life?
God knows, even the most hardened men beg me to spare them.
Fuck, the bastard on the floor had begged for his life before I slit his throat.
They all beg. Or when they don’t, they try to barter.
Information, money. Women offer their bodies, trying to sway me with meaningless sex.
Sometimes I give in, but the outcome is still the same.
If you fuck me over, you are fucked. It’s as simple as that.
So why is she not begging or offering herself as a sacrifice?
I eye her curiously. Her pulse pounds in her throat and I find myself wanting to lick it, wanting to feel it twitch under my thumb while my hand is wrapped around her slim neck, holding her in my grasp like helpless prey while I let the predator in me devour her. That thought has my dick perking up.
Then her tongue darts out to wet her lips and I almost groan from the erotic tension sizzling down my spine. Fuck, I need to get laid. How long has it been since last time?
“I won’t tell anyone.” Her voice is a mere breathless whisper, but I feel it rippling through my body straight to my groin.
I look deep into her eyes, searching for…what?
“I know.” My own voice sounds hoarse in my ears.
Her eyes grow wide with realization before defeat and despair dim the light in her beautiful gaze.
Goddammit, I didn’t want it to sound like I was going to silence her permanently.
Her shoulders slump, she nods once and closes her eyes as a lone tear slips down her smooth cheek. I want to kiss it off her face. “Pl-lease make it quick.” A mere whisper in a broken voice that sets my body on fire and makes my blood boil.
I move closer and tenderly cup her cheek, catching her tear with my thumb to swipe it away. Then I lean into her, inhaling her scent. Fuck, she smells delicious.
“You misunderstood, little flower,” I whisper into her ear.
“I trust you not to tell anyone about what you just saw.” Her eyes fly open, and time stops when our gazes collide.
Her green eyes are huge as they look up at me, confusion and distrust clearly written all over her face.
But there is also something else. We are lost in each other’s gaze, our faces mere inches apart.
Moments—or is it years?—later, I register a shuffle from behind her and drop my hand, taking a quick step back. For fuck’s sake, I need to get a grip.
I clear my throat and gruffly add, “We don’t want anything to happen to your family, do we?”
She frantically shakes her head and when I nod toward the door, she all but pushes Luc to the side and bolts out of the room.
We both look at the door, wondering what the fuck just happened. I turn to my underboss. “Have Teo send me all the information he can find on her.”