Chapter 6
Chapter Six
RICCI
The entire living room and the sprawling gardens beyond are overflowing with people.
Laughter rises in low bursts, glasses clink, and the rich scents of prosciutto, aged cheeses, and strong espresso drift from the silver trays being passed around.
Everyone is here to mourn in public and scheme in private.
But she is nowhere in sight.
Funny thing is, I’m quite certain at this point that I can sense her presence. It’s like the air itself changes when she’s near. And that’s exactly what happens when she finally arrives.
Very little in this world tenses me up anymore. I’ve stared down barrels of guns and walked through rooms of men who wanted me dead. But all of a sudden, I feel it—a prickling of heat racing down my spine, slow and electric, settling low in my gut. My body knows before my eyes do.
Suddenly, I lose focus on the man speaking to me, droning on about territory lines.
His voice fades into background noise. I pretend to flag a passing waiter with a sharp tilt of my chin.
As I reach for a glass of whiskey from his tray, I spot her at the edge of the room.
She stands there alone, poised and still, like she’s waiting for someone.
The black dress hugs her slim frame perfectly, the fabric falling over her curves in a way that makes my throat tighten.
I ogle her openly for a few seconds, drinking in every detail while my blood heats, but I make sure to keep a slight, distant expression on my face in case anyone—including her—is watching.
A mask of cool indifference I’ve worn for years.
It doesn’t take long to figure out who she’s waiting for.
The loud, obnoxious voice of Mario cuts through the crowd as he makes his way toward her with that predatory swagger of his.
“My dearest stepmother,” he calls out, loud enough for half the room to hear, opening his arms like he’s about to pull her into an embrace.
I can’t control the annoyance that flashes across my face now, my jaw tightening hard. Just before I turn away from the aggravating scene of Mario trying to wrap his arms around her, my eyes collide with Viola’s.
For a second, the entire world comes to a complete stop.
Everything else—the noise, the people, the clinking glasses—disappears.
There’s only her. Those green eyes locked on mine, pulling me under like a riptide.
My heart slams against my ribs. Heat floods my body so fast it leaves me dizzy.
I want her so badly in that moment it is painful.
A raw, obsessive hunger that claws at my insides.
Then she turns towards Mario, and the spell shatters. The noise of the environment crashes back in all at once.
I whirl away in confusion.
I’ve broken the necks of men with my bare hands. I’ve watched the light leave their eyes without blinking. And yet one single glance from this woman can completely remove the floor from underneath my feet. She wrecks me in ways no enemy ever could.
I feel drugged, completely off-balance, my pulse still hammering. Without taking a sip of the whiskey, I set the untouched glass back on a passing tray, and pretend to listen to the conversation, though every cell in my body is tuned to her.