Chapter 8 #2
He growled as he took his drink, heading out onto the patio, gazing out at the lagoon-style pool.
The sound of the waterfall, the trickling water was comforting, the LED lights providing a sensual ambiance.
Inhaling, he could just detect a hint of the ocean given the light wind blowing from across the bay.
What a beautiful setting for seduction. A groan filtered from his mouth.
He was hungry, and his desire had nothing to do with food.
Sophia.
He hadn’t been able to get her off his mind during the last four months no matter how hard he’d tried. Booze did nothing. Women? Boring. Gambling held no level of excitement. Even getting back into the full swing of his given profession hadn’t provided the heightened adrenaline he was used to.
He was also exhausted, more from the recent flight from Milan than the events of the evening.
However, the near run-in with the lovely agent had certainly been unexpected.
She was getting too close or perhaps he was merely getting careless.
Either way, he had to determine a course of action and the only way to do so was to meet her face to face.
He’d even left a calling card this time, something he hadn’t necessarily planned, but the last-minute thought had been a test of sorts for the lovely woman.
Along with the anonymous tip.
And she’d taken the bait.
Freud would have a field day with his break in tradition. Was his subconscious inclined to being caught, thereby ending being an indentured servant to the consortium? Anything was possible at this point.
He chuckled and took a sip of his drink.
This particular assignment had been planned to test his loyalty to the consortium.
He was certain of it. Tasked by the Dark Haven leader himself to take over every one of the planned requirements in the United States, Wrath had been sent to Florida with more than one purpose in mind.
He’d gone silent after tasking the other assassins, the assignments meant to cut certain ties and eradicate loose ends. The end game must be near.
The last conversation with his father had been eye-opening, Benedetto revealing that one of the consortium members was dying.
Alessandro was almost eighty-five, his only living son still incarcerated in some third world prison and no grandchildren to date.
That meant one of the sons of the remaining leaders would be selected to take Alessandro’s place.
And of course, Benedetto had already spoken up for Wrath, a selection that hadn’t been met with acceptance.
Several believed Wrath was a traitor, incapable of replicating Alessandro’s leadership. Wrath was on the fence, his desire to remain in the heat of action still in the forefront of his mind. However, the change would allow him the opportunity at settling down and raising a family.
Yet another round of irony. Six months ago he would have laughed in his father’s face. Now? The thought was appealing in ways that startled him.
But not with an arranged marriage.
Wrath thought it interesting that his father had never asked about Sophia, even though every member of the consortium knew not only of her existence, but of her time spent with Wrath. The test was real. The consequences harsh.
If she didn’t abide by Wrath’s rules. This was risky but necessary.
He needed to simply do his job. If he followed orders, eliminating the targeted marks, he could have a fortune at his fingertips and the kind of power that few men ever achieved. Failing wasn’t an option in his father’s mind.
The weight was heavy indeed.
The choice between happiness or wealth and power was formidable, but his adoration of Sophia was not to be denied. Anger rushed through him and he slammed his fist into the wall, cursing under his breath. The hole would be a reminder to keep his head clear.
Leaving the door open, he walked to his study, easing down in front of the laptop.
Within a few keystrokes, he was connected to a specialized secure site, allowing him access to significant private information.
He’d easily found out what she and her partner had been assigned to after the second time he’d encountered both of them by accident.
He had no interest in the male, who seemed more like a sidekick than an agent.
If the man became an interference, he’d eliminate him.
As far as Sophia, he had lurid and very salacious thoughts for the curvy redhead.
He’d finally been forced to reckon with her level of skill, something he’d ignored during their tryst.
Wrath swirled his index finger around the rim of his glass before taking a sip, concentrating on the vivid images in front of him.
Sophia had a wicked smile, full lips with a slight curve.
Her eyes were penetrating, as if looking through a reflection and into his soul.
Even the way she held her gun, an older Glock, meant she’d been well trained, but there was an edge about her in every one of her mannerisms.
What he’d only minimally picked up before was that the girl had a horrid history of some kind, pushing her into stretching her boundaries.
Their conversations had been brief, both of them skirting around the truth, but she’d held an air of sadness, similar to his own.
He maneuvered his way through the basic information, including her address and phone number, the dollar amount in her bank account and her credit history.
The details were average and almost nothing had changed, but he’d gathered a sense about her from everything they’d shared months before.
She was hiding from herself, a past she couldn’t stand remembering.
Her body’s reaction to him, her tight nipples and scattered breath sounds would forever remain in the forefront of his mind.
Then there was his reaction. He chuckled and held the glass to his head.
The hard-on had lasted for quite a while after the last time they’d been together.
For all the posturing, he’d also witnessed a particular look in her eyes that held the absolute truth.
There’d been no denying her longing, embracing the phrase he’d used as he backed away.
She hadn’t tried to follow, which didn’t surprise him but there would always be a level of disappointment.
She was a born submissive.
He was a natural dominant with a penchant for beautiful women.
Together, they were explosive as fuck, a dangerous combination.
“Hmmm…” His cock was aching, thick and swollen.
Every time he thought about the lovely Sophia, he had the same craving.
What was he going to do about the agent?
He had work to do, a tight schedule to fill, and other requirements that would take him in another direction within a few short days.
He rubbed his hand against his crotch. She certainly wasn’t going to succumb to his needs or his bed by choice after his disappearance. Or was she?
What was she really about? He sighed, remembering the picture of the Golden Retriever and her almost animated lie regarding owning a bakery.
There’d been a part of him that had been serious about leaving his past and working beside her.
He was completely disillusioned with the consortium and their demands.
Fuck. He wanted more out of life. The reason for his change in demeanor? One feisty woman.
Were his instincts regarding her on point or was he losing his touch?
Shifting in his seat, he eased his drink onto the desk then switched to the internet.
He had various methods of finding every detail about her, no matter no insignificant.
There was no paper written in college, no picture shared on Facebook that he couldn’t find.
He studied her various profiles. The woman was very guarded; almost no information about her private life.
Either her accounts had been scrubbed or she was a very private woman. Even FBI agents had a personal life.
However, he would find more.
Growing weary of searching, he moved to one last site, expecting to find nothing worthwhile.
When he noticed a string of entries, he inched closer to the computer.
While she’d attempted to hide her identity, he was able to connect IP addresses with ease.
He was quite surprised at the find, his cock twitching to the point he was forced to adjust his pants.
A freaking blog.
Who the hell actually did that any longer?
He flipped through a couple of pages before accepting the fact the written words actually belonged to her.
“Sweet Sophia. No wonder you don’t get that close to anyone.
” The blog was hers. While the concept in general certainly shouldn’t have any effect on her job, the FBI was a conservative group.
They wouldn’t take kindly to one of their own openly admitting such kinky desires.
As he began reading, her words frank, open, and very personal, he became more intrigued by her.
Sophia wrote about her desire to submit, admitting her hunger as the words flowed.
In the selective pieces, her words were poignant, a telling of the woman buried underneath conservative clothing and highly skilled profession. They’d been written just before her time spent with him. Jesus.
He finished his drink by the time he’d read only two entries, refilling and sequestering himself until he’d read that last two months’ worth.
Submission…
The word lingers in my mouth, creating tingles dancing throughout my body.
There’s never been a man who understood my needs, the kind of control that would squelch the rebel inside, a girl bursting at the seams.
The longing has never been shared, not even to a friend.
The shame is relentless, unforgiving in its grasp. I can’t want this, refuse to believe I’m this kind of woman. How could I desire a man to take control, punishing me for even the slightest infraction? It’s unnatural. It’s terrible.