Chapter 10
IVAN
I know perfectly well what her name is. I don’t need her reminder. Milani. Christ.
It just slipped out so easily; I didn’t even register it until she threw it back at me with that indignant shout. That’s the part that bothers me. How natural it felt.
Getting so caught up in my prisoner that I’m giving her affectionate nicknames tied to my mother tongue is bad enough.
But calling her a diminutive of her name that includes mila—dear—when I’ve never done that with any woman I’ve fucked before?
That’s worse. So much worse. And I haven’t even fucked her yet.
Hell, I haven’t even kissed her properly.
I need to screw my head on straight. She’s messing with it.
Crawling around in places she has no business being.
Making my heart do things I didn’t think the lifeless organ was capable of.
Instead of returning to my office, where Luka is undoubtedly waiting with questions I don’t want to answer, I detour to my bedroom.
As soon as the door shuts behind me, I lean against it, squeezing my eyes shut as I wrap my hand around my throbbing cock in a hard, unforgiving grip.
The pressure makes me swallow a frustrated groan.
I’ve never been this worked up over a woman. Not even as a randy teenager when women flocked to me without effort. If I let this continue, my little Sicilian mouse is going to spell nothing but trouble for me. I rearrange my cock in my pants and zip up, then head into the bathroom to wash my hands.
One thing is clear: I’m not finishing myself off like some horny kid. Either I come with her or I don’t come at all. This is my punishment for letting her knock me off balance.
Back in the bedroom, I reach into my pocket for my phone—and brush against something soft.
I pull it out, frowning at the hair tie I slipped in there last night.
Her hair tie. I cross the room towards the trash can in the corner, fully intending to throw the damn thing away and be done with it.
But I can’t make myself do it. My hand closes possessively around it instead.
Fuck. What is it about this girl that’s making me so unrecognizable?
I loop the hair tie around my fingers, studying the fluffy black fabric for a long moment before stuffing it back into my pocket. Then I finally take out my phone and text Vasily as I head back towards my office.
What do you have for me?
Luka raises a brow when I step inside. “Done taking care of your prisoner?”
I ignore him, circling to my side of the desk and sinking into my chair. Without conscious thought, my hand slips back into my pocket, fingers finding that hair tie and rolling it between them. The repetitive motion is oddly soothing.
“Who is she, Vanya?”
Vanya. My chest tightens, and my cock stirs at the memory of the breathy, needy way she whispered my name. Fuck me. Only my family and Luka are allowed to call me that. When anyone else dares, it physically scrapes against my skin.
So why the hell did it sound so fucking sweet spilling from her lips?
“She’s no one,” I answer dismissively, turning on my computer. “Why are you still here? Don’t you have things to attend to?”
“She’s clearly someone.” He leans forward, bracing his elbows on my desk, completely ignoring my attempt to dismiss him. “It’s fine if you’re infatuated with her. You’re just a man, after all.”
I glare at him with enough heat to melt steel, but the bastard only chuckles. “I don’t get infatuated,” I grate out.
“Then what is this?” He looks genuinely confused now, head tilted like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. “You’re attracted to her? Fine. Then fuck her and get rid of her. We don’t need a witness hanging around to complicate things.”
My fingers strangle the hair tie in my pocket, and for a brief, violent moment, I imagine it’s Luka’s neck instead. Fuck her and get rid of her? How dare he talk about her like that? The audacity of it makes my chest burn.
I drag in a deep breath, trying to wrestle my rage back under control.
He’s talking about her that way because that’s how we’ve always talked about women.
We use them for sex, then move on without looking back.
Simple. No attachments. In our line of business, getting emotionally involved with someone is dangerously bad practice.
It creates a living, breathing weakness that enemies can exploit.
“If you don’t have anything else to say, you may leave.” My voice comes out tight despite my attempt to mask my emotions.
Luka’s brows knit together. “Is this more than sex for you? You just met her last night.”
“Just leave, damn it!” I snap. I don’t want to fucking talk about her anymore. She’s already taking up too much space in my head. I need to focus on business, on the things that actually matter.
He raises both hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Just be careful. You’re never this sensitive about a woman.
Don’t let her get under your skin.” Before I can bite his head off for daring to call me sensitive, he continues, “Right before you came in, I got the call that James Salvatore will go on air soon to announce his candidacy as an independent.”
“Good,” I say darkly, glad to at least move on from Melani Monti. A glance at my phone confirms Vasily still hasn’t replied.
Luka stands and crosses to the small console on the other side of my office, picking up the remote and switching on the TV. We don’t have to wait long before a news anchor begins the introductions.
Leaning back in my chair, I study James Salvatore’s face on the screen.
I have to give him credit—he cleans up exceptionally well.
The three-piece suit fits him like it was tailored to sell trust, and at just forty-three, he’s still young enough to have that polished, appealing look women in their thirties eat up.
Hell, he’ll probably be popular with the younger crowd too.
I told him to lean into his looks and charm.
He speaks smoothly and confidently with the news anchor, answering questions with ease, flashing that megawatt smile at all the right moments. Barely a few minutes in, everyone there is practically eating out of his palm, nodding along enthusiastically to every word.
I allow myself a small, satisfied grin. My plan is working. By the time I’m done orchestrating this campaign, James Salvatore will have this entire city waxing poetic about him. Daniel Salvi won’t know what hit him until it’s far too late.
“You made him go on that program, didn’t you?” Luka gives me a knowing look, one corner of his mouth quirking up.
“I might have suggested it to him.” I tap my index finger against my chin as a new idea pops into my head. “Look into Vincenzo Marino for me. Find out where he is right now.”
“You want to talk to him regarding the rumors of his missing people?” he guesses correctly. The man knows me too well. But that’s only part of it. I also want to see if Vincenzo knows anything about my little prisoner. Did the Italians send her? And if they did—why?
I smirk as I steeple my fingers. Let’s see just how deep our tentative truce really runs. Will they welcome me… or shove a gun in my face the second I cross into their territory?
There’s only one way to find out.