Chapter 15: Chapter 13

“Signor De Santi asked me to pass you a message, miss,” one of the maids says from the terrace threshold. “He’s waiting for you in his car. You’re to bring the laptop with you.”

“You can tell Signor De Santi to kindly go fuck himself,” I toss over my shoulder and look back at the horizon.

Jerkwad. It’s been hours since I found Rafael’s latest “present,” and I still haven’t been able to calm down.

I barely slept last night, too shaken by Rafael’s kisses and the messed-up feelings they evoked. Thrill and enjoyment, right along with contempt for myself because I liked the experience. I don’t go around letting random men kiss me senseless. Especially not men who keep me captive! I tossed and turned for hours, trying to eradicate the mental images of Rafael doing much more to me than merely kissing.

And then, when I woke up, even more confused than I was the night before, I found another velvet box.

I didn’t even need to see the gift to know that he’d been in the bedroom while I was sleeping. I could detect the traces of him drifting in the air. It’s not that his scent is strong, but it seems my nostrils are attuned to it, capable of noticing even the faintest whiffs.

A beautiful rope chain bracelet was lying in the box, the three braided strands of gold and embedded diamonds gleamed in the morning light. Next to the jewelry box was a lavish crystal vase overflowing with several stems of white orchids. Underneath was a check with my name on it, in the amount of three million dollars. One for each kiss we shared. I don’t remember the last time I felt so miserable and used, like some kind of whore. I kissed that jackass because I like him. Like him way more than I’m willing to admit. And he left me a goddamned check!

“Did you get my message, Vasilisa?”

An inappropriate but pleasant shiver rushes through me just from the timbre of his voice. I grit my teeth and keep my eyes focused on a distant spot before me. “Yup. I sent one back, but the maid was probably too afraid to relay it to you.”

Heavy footfalls sound behind me, getting closer. I can feel each thump reverberating in my chest while every nerve impulse hums inside my body. Rafael comes to a stop right in front of me, blocking my view of the deep blue sea.

“And you saw the present I left you?” he asks.

I squint my eyes at him, taking in his huge form looming over me. He’s wearing khaki dress pants and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the black ink covering his forearms. The first few buttons on the shirt are undone, and I can see fragments of another tattoo on his chest.

“I did,” I say as calmly as I can. “I tore up the check and flushed the pieces down the toilet.”

“The flowers, as well?”

“Nope. Those are in the trashcan in the kitchen. Didn’t want to clog up the sewer lines. Too big. And you can find the bracelet in your tie drawer.”

Rafael cocks his head to the side, staring at me intently. Dark aviator sunglasses hide his eyes, making it difficult to decipher his exact expression, but I don’t miss the way his jaw hardens.

“I have the details for that container I need you to reroute. Modify the freight shipping forms so it ends up in the Port of Shanghai.”

“The container was not a part of our deal. Feel free to play with your fricking steel box yourself.”

“You work for me. That means you’ll do whatever I need.” He removes his sunglasses and pins me with his gaze. “We’re operating from another location today. You have five minutes to get the laptop and haul your ass to the car.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“I don’t think you want to play that game with me.” He puts his glasses back on and strides away. “Five minutes.”

I squeeze my hands into fists with all my might and wait until the sound of his footsteps fades, then head upstairs to get the damn computer.

As I run out of the mansion five minutes later, Rafael is standing by the SUV, holding the passenger door ajar, as if he never had a doubt that I was coming. I guess, if you hold the power of life or death at your fingertips, and the lives of someone’s family hang in the balance, you’d expect that someone to dance to your tune. Damn him.

I throw the laptop onto the back seat, then press my temple to the passenger-side window, creating as much distance between us as possible.

The tension inside the vehicle could be cut with a knife. We drive in utter silence for a better part of an hour, winding our way on mostly deserted narrow roads flanked by olive groves and vast farm fields. Slowly, a few country homes pop up among the ever-present hills and valleys of the beautiful rural landscape. Rafael turns onto a lane that runs along the coast, descending into a quaint village. I slide down my window, gawking at little old houses squeezed right next to each other. The balconies facing the street are laden with a multitude of colorful flowers, some cascading over the railings and nearly to the ground below. The scent in the air is alluring. Near the doorways of a lot of houses, elderly women—sometimes alone, sometimes in groups—sit on either rickety chairs or ancient-looking recliners. Enjoying life? Or keeping their eyes on their surroundings?

We’re driving through the crossroads when Rafael hits the brakes so suddenly that the seatbelt almost rearranges my insides. I’m still coming to my senses while Rafael pushes his head through the open window and starts yelling. He’s so loud that I need to press my hands over my ears to prevent me from going deaf. It doesn’t help much.

“Ma che fai, stronzo?!” Rafael roars, waving his hand at the pickup truck that’s stopped in the middle of the intersection, blocking our way. “Vaffanculo! Sei cieco? Madonna santa!”

The driver of the other vehicle has also stuck his head out and is yelling back, while the man beside me keeps serving up what I’m sure are profanities. My gaze slides back to Rafael, taking him in with awe. He looks nothing like the cold-blooded killer I witnessed last night. Now, he’s acting just like a regular guy. Well . . . a very angry regular guy, one aggravated by a traffic fuckup. It’s . . . beyond cute. And sexy as hell.

“Coglione! Mangia merda e morte, porca puttana!” he snarls as he hits the wheel with his palm, then steps on the gas and surges through the intersection, barely missing the truck.

“Testa di cazzo,” he mumbles shaking his head, then looks at me. “Tutto bene?”

I gape at him, then burst out laughing. “I have no idea what you said in the last five minutes, but it sounded painful.”

A small smile pulls at his lips.

“Well, I told that idiot to go fuck himself in a very painful way. Sent him to hell because his brain is in his testicles. Called him an asshole and a dickhead, and invited the pig-whore to eat shit and die. Then, I asked if you were okay.” He stretches his hand and brushes my chin with his thumb. “Are you okay, vespetta?”

“Yeah,” I breathe.

Rafael steers the car to the left and stops outside an old one-story house. A massive shrub, or maybe a small tree, with vibrant purple flowers creeps up the walls of the structure, its vines twisting together to create a natural canopy over the front door. In its shade, curled into a ball on a doormat, sleeps a large calico cat. A woman with a long gray braid, who looks to be in her eighties, is knitting on the nearby bench. The moment she notices us, she abandons her work and eyes Rafael while he exits the SUV and tosses his sunglasses onto the dashboard.

“I’ll be right back,” he says and shuts the door.

The gentle breeze ruffles the hair around his face, tossing a few dark strands across his eyes as he approaches the house with long, confident strides. His shirt accentuates his broad back, the fabric straining across his biceps and shoulders.

Rafael brings to mind an image of a vengeful Roman god, but one who traveled through time to the present. The idea is bolstered by the gun he tucked into the waistband at his back. The scene from last night—him covered in blood—forms before my eyes, and my heart rate surges in alarm.

Is he going to kill the poor old woman?

I grab the door handle and fling it open. I don’t give a fuck what beef he might have with her, I will not sit back and watch as he kills someone’s grandma.

I’m out of the SUV and ready to run over there to stop him when Rafael crouches before the woman. She doesn’t seem to be alarmed by his presence at all. A small smile lights up her face as she leans forward and starts whispering in his ear.

It lasts for nearly five minutes. The woman speaks, and Rafael listens, nodding every now and then. Once she finishes, Rafael straightens and turns to leave. The woman suddenly grabs his hand. I stare, speechless, as she drops a kiss on his knuckles.

When she lets go of Rafael’s hand, her gaze meets mine. Eyebrows furrowed, she watches me silently for a second or two, then says something and gestures to the left. Rafael shakes his head. More serious-sounding words follow in rapid Italian, leaving her lips as she points to the flower pot by the front door. A sprawling plant with bright-red flowers. Sighing, Rafael looks toward the heavens, then approaches the planter and picks a single bloom from the lot.

My heart thumps heavily in my chest as he closes the distance between us and lifts the flower toward me.

“It’s a geranium. Thought of almost as a weed around here,” he says. “I know it will get flushed down the toilet, but she insisted.”

“And why would you assume that?”

“Well, that was the fate of the orchids. Why would a weed fare any better?”

I take the flower from his hand. “Think about it a bit, and the answer will come to you.”

Lifting the flower to my nose, I inhale the mild sweet aroma and get back in my seat.

“So, is she your family?” I ask when Rafael gets behind the wheel.

“An associate would be more accurate. If you want to know what’s happening around here, nothing beats the grandma surveillance network.”

“Hmm, it looked like more than that to me. Do all your associates kiss your hand?”

“It’s a sign of respect. And appreciation for the help I provided.”

“What kind of help?”

“There’s no shortage of corruption throughout Sicily. With enough money, one can get away with many things,” he says. “A few years ago, a business mogul arrived with an intent to level the village and transform the area into a vineyard. He tried to buy the properties and the surrounding land, bribing the local officials left and right to obtain the necessary licenses and permits.”

“But nothing came of it?”

“Of course not. Since I separated the bastard from his head.” He starts the vehicle and glances at the purple vine climbing the old wall that’s covered in peeling paint. “Dead bodies make an amazing plant fertilizer.”

With my mouth hanging open, I follow Rafael’s gaze to the blooming bush, then look over at the grandma, who’s gone back to her knitting with a serene smile on her face. “You buried a body next to her front door? Does the poor woman know that?”

“Of course. She even picked the spot.”

The engine roars to life, and pebbles crunch under the massive tires as Rafael reverses, startling the cat sleeping on the doormat. The furball leaps from its napping spot directly onto the blooming bush. Frantically, it climbs the thick vine and squeezes between the branches just above the door.

“Stop!” I reach out, laying my hand over Rafael’s on the steering wheel. “You scared the cat. It went up the tombstone shrub.”

The rumble of the vehicle dies. I turn my head and our gazes collide, making me forget about the chubby calico. Rafael’s eyes are searing mine, holding them captive, and I find myself leaning toward him. I can feel the scar ridges on his hand under my palm, crisscrossing his skin like some bizarre art deco trellis pattern.

“Tombstone shrub?” Rafael’s gaze shifts down, falling on my mouth, and I belatedly realize I may have drawn his attention by worrying my bottom lip between my teeth.

Is he thinking about the kisses we shared last night? The ones he “paid” me for?

Good God, even after that fiasco, I still want to kiss him again. So bad.

“Um, yeah.” I quickly release his hand and look back at the cat. “Do you think it will come down on its own?”

“Yes.”

“It doesn’t look that way to me.” The cat looks terrified, testing the branch before it with one paw, but quickly retreating. “Can you help it down?”

“It will jump down the moment we leave, Vasilisa.”

My heartbeat skyrockets like it always does when he calls me by my name. I take a deep breath and look at him. “Please?”

Rafael lifts his hand and lightly brushes my cheek with his scarred knuckles. The air gets caught in my lungs.

“La mia principessa russa,” he whispers.

Another stroke along my chin before he exits the car and heads toward the house where the distraught cat is still crammed between branches heavy with purple blooms.

Mesmerized, I watch as Rafael jostles the bush limbs and flowers, trying to get his hands on the scaredy cat. The calico might have looked like it was eager to get down, but it’s taking Rafael more than five minutes to grab it because the little thing keeps twisting around the offshoots and foliage. When he finally gets a hold and starts pulling the mewling fluffball out from between the tangled vines, the cat scrambles out of Rafael’s hands and leaps back onto the bush. Then, using one of the thicker branches, it expertly dashes to the ground and runs away.

Laughter bubbles inside me, and by the time Rafael gets into the driver’s seat, I’m laughing so hard that tears stream down my cheeks.

“I guess you were right.” I snort, then fall into another fit of giggles. “Sneaky little thing.”

“Of course I was right.” There’s a small smirk on his lips when he starts the SUV.

Rafael reaches for his sunglasses on the dashboard, and while he’s putting them on, I notice faint red markings on the back of his hand. The surrounding skin is turning fire-engine-red.

“Oh my God, the little rascal scratched you!”

“It wasn’t the cat. That’s a bougainvillea bush.” He meets my gaze. “Its thorns are toxic.”

I stare at him—this dangerous, unscrupulous man, who only minutes ago disclosed that he buried a dead body under that same bush. And then, without protest, he went to “rescue” the cat because I asked him to, all while knowing he’d get hurt in the process.

Warmth swells inside my chest, melting away one of the many layers of protection I’ve been trying to build around my heart. One of my remaining safeguards from Rafael De Santi.

* * *

“What are we doing here?” I ask as we walk down the wooden dock.

On the far end of it, two white yachts lightly sway on the gentle waves. The first one is a huge monstrosity with two levels above the main deck and looks more like an outlandish hotel than a sea vessel, while the other one is significantly smaller but still big enough to dwarf a lot of speedboats I’ve seen zipping around Lake Michigan in Chicago. A guy wearing white shorts and a striped T-shirt is unwinding ropes from the metal hooks bolted to the dock.

“We’ll be working from my yacht today.”

I come to a sudden stop. “Why?”

“I thought you would enjoy spending a day outside the house.” Rafael places his palm on the small of my back, ushering me forward. “And those workers are getting on my nerves with all the racket they’re making.”

“You mean the guys who’ve been varnishing the bookshelves for the second time this week? Well, I don’t mind them. Maybe we should go back.”

Rafael halts and puts his hand under my chin, tilting my head up. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Vasilisa. What’s wrong?”

I throw a glance at the boat behind him. Yulia and I have been talking about taking a cruise one summer, but I’ve never gathered the courage to actually go.

“What if it sinks?” I blurt out.

“Why would it sink?”

“It’s a boat. They sink all the time.”

“Contrary to what you see in the movies, sinking a water vessel of this size is rather difficult. Unless the yacht hits rocks or collides with another seacraft, there’s no way that’s going to happen.” He bends so our faces are almost level. “Don’t worry. You’ll be safe.”

“And what about water creatures? Like sharks!”

“Well, we’ll be on board. Several feet above the waterline.” His lips pull into a tiny grin. “And in the event we get into a Sharknado scenario, and deadly fish start raining down from the sky, I have a few large caliber weapons stashed below deck.”

My eyes turn to slits as I glare at him. “That movie was beyond stupid.”

“I don’t agree. The original Sharknado is an all-time classic.” Rafael brushes my chin with his thumb, then steps away.

I trail in his wake to the narrow boarding ramp that’s connected to the smaller yacht, eyeing the thing with suspicion. Rafael steps onto it first, then turns around, extending his hand to me. Slowly, I place my palm into his. His fingers wrap around mine, his huge hand completely swallowing my own. With his sleeves rolled up and the midday sun shining down, I can see that it’s not only his hands that bear a plethora of varied uneven scars. There are many on his forearms as well. A particularly long one starts at the inside of his wrist, splits the realistic-looking image of a toothy green snake coiled around two black crossed daggers, then continues all the way up to his elbow.

“Watch your step.”

I look up and meet his gaze. “Don’t let go.”

Something dangerous flashes in his eyes as he tightens his hold on my hand. “Never.”

* * *

The wind blows my hair into my face as I go over the bill of lading for the shipping container Rafael wants me to reroute. It took me almost an hour to get into the freight company system and find the exact cargo ship onto which the container in question was loaded. It shouldn’t have taken me more than twenty minutes, but I kept stealing glances at Rafael as he stood at the yacht’s helm, navigating.

I initially set up my “workstation” on the main deck, inside what looked like a cozy, luxury living room, but I felt queasy after ten minutes and climbed up to the upper deck, planting myself on the curved brown leather sunbed behind the driver’s seat. Or . . . at least, that’s the excuse for settling here that I choose to believe. Seasickness sounds much more acceptable than coming up to this lounge just so I can be closer to the man I can’t seem to ignore.

“Why are we sending this poor container on a trip around the world?” I ask as I continue modifying the records.

Rafael glances at me over his shoulder, then looks back toward the horizon. “Because Calogero’s drug shipment is inside.”

“Well, he won’t be happy when he finds it in Shanghai.”

We’ve come to a stop, and Rafael shuts down the engines. Amid the sound of waves lapping against the yacht’s hull, the telltale clang of the lowering anchor comes from the nose part of the boat.

“I’m counting on it.”

I’m sure he could have gotten one of his tech guys to do this for him, but the fact he asked me instead, makes me giddy with excitement. There aren’t many options for women within Bratva. It’s not like I can go around beating up people who owe us money or provide protection for drug shipments. One of the reasons I chose computer science as a major is that I wanted to help my family in some capacity with my IT know-how.

Grampa Felix is too old to keep up with everything that gets thrown at him and the lightning speed with which the technology is evolving, and I hoped Dad would allow me to take over the cyber tasks. Instead, he almost had a heart attack when I shared my idea with him. After nearly an hour-long tirade about how I would never poke a finger into the Bratva business, Dad promised that he would find me a “nice, safe job” in some financial institution. Someplace where I can meet a “nice, safe accountant” whom I could date.

I hit Enter, saving the changes I’ve made, and take a peek at Rafael. He’s leaning with his back on the helm console, hands in his pockets, watching me. The wind has made a mess out of his hair, and several strands of his dark tresses have fallen across his forehead, making him look less harsh somehow. I can’t believe that a man who hunted me down, had me kidnapped, and then flown halfway around the world so he could wreck me himself for daring to invade his domain, values my skills more than my own father.

“What did your sister say?”

“She asked why I was calling at six in the morning.” I completely forgot about the time difference when I phoned her earlier. “Then, she said Dad sent out a Mafia version of an APB about me.”

“Oh? How does that work?”

“I guess he called every criminal syndicate in the country and threatened to annihilate whichever one is holding me hostage. Or anyone who has info on my whereabouts but hasn’t shared it.”

“So he still believes you’re somewhere in the continental US?”

“Yes. I’m usually more careful when I check in with Dad, always keeping the time difference in mind.”

“Interesting.” Rafael smirks. “Someone might figure that you’re actually enjoying your stay in Sicily.”

I blink, then quickly look away when the realization hits me—I am enjoying it here. Being with him.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I mumble, pretending to work again. “Can you call Mitch and ask if the new login credentials for the client database are working on his side?”

“No.”

My head snaps up. “Why not?”

“Because we should go for a swim first.”

I suck in a breath. Images of Rafael without his clothes on flood my mind, setting off a tingling sensation in my core. Wrong. So so wrong. I can’t be falling for a man who left me a check as payment for the kisses we shared. Who won’t allow me to return home.

Clearing my goddamned mind is useless. Those thoughts invade me again, even more intense and erotic. The two of us, naked, as he covers my body with his. Rough palms stroking my skin while his piercing green eyes singe right through me. Killer’s eyes. I’m turned on and ready to combust in spite of him being a cold-blooded murderer. Or maybe . . . maybe it’s those sinister vibes he gives off that make him more alluring.

“Um . . . I’m going to skip it. There’s some stuff I need to wrap up.” I quickly look back at the laptop.

“Suit yourself.”

His hand brushes my arm as he walks by me, heading to the main deck. I keep my eyes glued to the screen, but eventually, my curiosity gets the better of me. Tempted by a force stronger than my willpower, I throw a look over my shoulder to the swim platform at the rear of the boat. But I don’t see him. Rising a bit out of my seat, I spot Rafael at the frontmost point of the yacht, unbuttoning his shirt. All the air rushes out of my lungs as I watch him remove the garment, revealing his perfectly defined broad back.

His pants are next.

I’m still lightheaded, taken aback by how beautiful he is, when he hooks his fingers into the waistband of his underwear. Oh my God, he wouldn’t! The briefs slide down, giving me the briefest glance at his amazing hard ass before he dives overboard. His body soars in a straight line for a split second, and a heartbeat later, a splash in the water sounds below.

My palms are pressed to my burning cheeks. I can’t believe he did that. And he’ll be naked when he climbs back onto the yacht, meaning I’ll be able to see everything I missed in that lightning-fast glimpse. All six and a half feet of buck naked, wet, magnificent male body.

How am I going to feign indifference to that?

I scramble off the sunbed, intending to hide somewhere on the main deck until Rafael is once more clothed, but the overwhelming urge to see him gets to me again. Maybe I could just have a quick look without him noticing?

Crouching low to the deck, I sneak to the front of the helm station and peek over the side, trying to see beyond the bow of the boat. The deep blue waters are still, except for the gentle ripples on the surface. Zero bare-assed assassins anywhere in sight. I run to the back of the flybridge, but it’s the same. Just the calm vastness of the Mediterranean.

“Rafael?” I call.

Nothing.

Where the fuck is he? How long can a person stay underwater? It’s been at least two minutes. I scramble back to the open cockpit and descend the metal ladder to the rear of the boat and then the steps to the waterline.

“Rafael!” I yell from the swim platform, scanning the depths in vain. “This is not funny!”

Did he drown? What if something has eaten him? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! I shove down my shorts and fling off my top, remaining only in a matching set of a white lace bra and panties. My heart is pounding in my chest, and worry for Rafael is pressing me down, but I can’t make myself step off that platform into the sea. Ever since I watched Jaws, I have a deep-rooted fear of sharks. I can swim well enough, but only in swimming pools.

“Rafael!” I scream this time, drawing out his name. There’s no answer.

A hysterical whimper leaves my lips as I lower myself to the edge of the decking and dip my feet into the water. If a sea monster ate Rafael, it must be a super huge one to be able to swallow him whole. If it comes after me, I’ll probably barely register when it opens its mouth. Quick, painless death.

“Fuck you, Rafael,” I huff and slide off the platform into the terrifying depths just as a large water-distorted shape surges from below.

I scream and shut my eyes. Water splashes all around me as I flail my arms, trying to get away, and my back collides with the swim ladder extended below the surface. Something big and thick wraps around my waist. I scream again, kicking my legs to hit—

“Ma che cazzo! Vasilisa!”

I freeze. Open one eye. Then the other one. Rafael is in the water in front of me, his right arm wrapped around my waist, while he grips the ladder behind me with his left hand.

“I thought you were the fucking Kraken,” I blurt out while fighting to draw in a calming breath.

He cocks his head, the motion dislodging a few drops of water from his hair directly onto my breasts. “The Kraken?”

“Yes!”

His lips are pressed tightly together and his eyebrows furrowed. I think I might have angered him. A deep rumbling sound comes from his chest, and, in the next moment, he bursts out laughing.

“It’s not funny!” I wrap my arms around his neck, holding on to him for dear life. “I thought you drowned, you jerk! Do you have any idea how terrified I am of swimming in the sea? I almost had a heart attack while considering how to outswim the sharks and octopuses and whales and . . . and . . . giant turtles so I could get to you!”

Rafael’s eyes suddenly darken. He’s not laughing anymore. His hold on my middle tightens, crushing me to his chest. I go very very still, hyperaware of his body basically plastered to me. His gaze captures mine and holds it with the same ferocity as his arm clutches my body. And his stone-hard cock presses right at my core.

“There is only one monster lurking in these waters now, my fiery lily of the valley.” He bows his head, placing a kiss on my shoulder. “But I think you know that he won’t ever do you any harm.”

A thrilling shiver runs down my spine, followed by another when he kisses my neck. My chin. The corner of my mouth. I feel like I’m a conduit for high-voltage power, but there’s no outlet for all that raw energy. I’m snared in his electric field, and every time his lips touch my skin, a total system meltdown happens. Finally, his mouth seizes mine. Biting. Taking. Claiming. I kiss him back, even though I know that I shouldn’t. Shouldn’t let this happen. But whatever cognitive ability I possessed, got fried. Short-circuited. Burned to a crisp.

I tighten my hold on him, plastering myself tighter to his chest, while he ravages my lips. This is wrong. I know it is, but I can’t seem to care. All sense of reality is getting lost amid the myriad of emotions swirling inside me. Excitement. Elation. Happiness. It’s so damn good to be held in his arms, with his body enveloping mine. His naked body. I can feel his hard cock brushing against my core, the lacy fabric of my panties the only barrier. I want more, and my whole being is buzzing with that need. More of this manipulative, complicated man who’s been plaguing my thoughts since the second we met.

I pull his lower lip between my teeth and bite it. Hard. “I can’t believe you left me a check for our kiss, you jackass.”

“And I can’t believe you flushed my millions down the drain.” He bites me back. “I’m going to fuck you now, Vasilisa. I’m going to fuck your pussy into oblivion, the same way you’ve been fucking with my goddamned mind for weeks, turning it into a useless mush. Can you even imagine the willpower I had to have to resist taking you into my arms and making you mine, to not simply say: Screw it all, I want her?”

“Yes,” I pant. Knowing how much I’ve been fighting to maintain my own self-control, I have a pretty good idea. My fantasies have been taking over my mind night and day—what it would be like to forget who he is . . . what he’s done . . . and to just let go? I guess I’m going to find out because my brain checked out the moment our lips touched. Primal desire and need are now in command. I can’t fight myself anymore. “Please fuck me into oblivion.”

His grip around my waist tightens like a vise. He lets go of my lip that’s been trapped between his teeth and growls into my mouth.

“Hold tight.”

I don’t question his order, just do as he said. My hands slide into his hair, anchoring my grip around his neck. Instantly, his arm around my waistline shifts, his palm glides over to push my panties down. As if triumphant in overcoming that barrier, the seawater swells against my pussy while the delicate lace slides down my legs and disappears into the deep.

Rafael strokes my ass with his palm, then moves lower, between my ass cheeks, straight to my core. Deft fingers brush my folds. And with his movements, the warm waters of the Mediterranean delicately splash my opening, even flooding inside. Rafael attacks my lips with the same rhythm as his fingers caress my sensitive flesh. It’s pure insanity.

My whole body feels like it’s scorching on the inside, heat rising through the water. Scalding. Steaming. The very air around us feels thick like fog. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I press my pussy to the tip of his cock, and close my eyes.

Rafael’s lips go still on mine. “Look at me.”

I blink my eyes open, once again fighting for breath. Rafael’s face is set in hard lines, jaw clenching, making the scars on his face more distinct.

“Don’t fucking dare close your eyes.” A low, dangerous-sounding growl escapes his throat as he slides the head of his cock inside me.

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Good.”

He pushes in a bit deeper. He’s too big. I can’t breathe. A shaky whimper leaves me. I cling to him with all my strength, my eyes piercing his.

“I don’t do slow, vespetta. But for you, I’ll try.”

Another inch. Having him inside me feels intrinsic. Intense. I’ve never had sex in the water, and the sensation is incomparable to anything I’ve experienced before. Or maybe it’s just him. His finger is still stroking my flesh, that spot between my core and the nerve-rich center of my ass, applying constant pressure. That touch alone nearly pushes me over the brink. And his dick isn’t even halfway in me.

Somehow, he’s still gripping the ladder with his left hand. Without breaking our eye contact, I grab his trunk-like biceps and tighten my legs around his waist. Taking more of him inside. My entire body trembles as he slowly fills me up. More. And more. Both of us panting. With just the sun overhead and the tranquil sea around us, we’re in our own wild world.

If it was anyone else floating in these waters with me, I’d long ago have been in a full-blown panic, cast to the coldest depths. But, it seems my mind completely believes that Rafael De Santi truly is the biggest threat in this blue vastness. And all I can feel is him. Just when I think I can’t take any more, my walls stretch further. My body adjusts to his size.

When he seems to finally be completely within me, I can barely draw a full breath. The teeniest movement from him will probably make me shatter. But Rafael holds utterly still.

“Tell me . . . Did you really jump in the water because you thought something happened to me?”

Air leaves my lungs in shallow bursts as I search his green orbs. His left iris is a shade lighter than the right one. I never noticed that before.

“Did you?” he insists and, unbelievably, pushes deeper.

I almost come.

Sliding my palm up his neck, I grip the dark wet strands and squeeze. Rafael’s cock twitches inside me. His body is so taut, every muscle straining. My God, he is beautiful like this.

“Yes.” I tilt my chin, nipping his lower lip. “How would I have gotten back to the mansion if you drowned?”

Another growl leaves his mouth, rough and feral. He retreats, then slams into me with such force that my mind totally blanks. His mouth captures mine again. Biting. Taking. My core trembles with a sensation of pleasure bordering on pain while he pounds me with fast, deep thrusts. His hand grips my ass, holding me steady, while wrecking me in the most visceral way. There isn’t a drop left of his previous self-control, as if my blatant lie has unleashed the beast.

“Mine,” he growls, biting my lower lip. “From the moment you swung that broken bottle at me, I knew you’d be mine.”

“I’m not yours,” I choke out, fighting for breath while kissing him back.

He trails his lips along my chin, then buries his face in the crook of my neck. “You smell like me.” His teeth graze the sensitive skin below my ear. “Taste like a mouthwatering dessert, custom-created to satiate every craving impulse of my DNA alone. Your flavor drives me crazy.”

Rafael slides out, then impales me with his cock again.

“Your sweet pussy trembles so beautifully with my dick inside you, asking for more. Do you want more, Vasilisa?”

“Yes . . .”

A deep, powerful thrust of his hips makes the water around us ripple. My trembling hands slip off his wet, rock-hard shoulders from the vibrations of that impact. I hook my arm around his neck and meet his feral stare. You are mine, it says. Just as his words did. Just like the telling warmth in my belly that’s threatening to consume me wholly. Just like my treacherous heart that’s yearning to reply, I’m yours. Like this is where I’ve always meant to be.

Dear God, I’m in love with him. I don’t know how or when it happened, but I’ve had these feelings for quite some time. Was it the sticky notes that did me in? Or those stolen figs he keeps leaving for me? No, I don’t think it was any single act. It’s the way he makes me feel every day—like I have finally found myself.

Rafael is pounding relentlessly into me again. A scream builds in my chest, wanting to be let out. I grit my teeth as hard as I can to keep it from escaping. Too afraid to confess the ecstasy I feel, even with mere lust-filled vocals. Wave after wave of pleasure surges over me, pushing me over the crest. I shakingly cling to Rafael, our gazes locked together, as I come right there, in the arms of my captor, surrounded by the glittering expanse of the warm glistening sea.

“That’s it, vespetta. I told you you’re mine.” With one final plunge, Rafael buries himself to the hilt and explodes inside me.

I close my eyes, relishing the feel of him. But also feeling guilty for enjoying the most intense pleasure I’ve ever experienced.

“Look. At. Me.” Brassy, growled words.

I shake my head. My God, what have I done?

“Now, Vasilisa.”

This man. A ruthless brute. One who threatened to kill my family. My parents. My baby brother and sister. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that he could do it, too, and more than likely, without blinking an eye. I know it. Just as I know that no other man will ever make me feel the same. The way he does. Like I’m surfing the gentlest currents, and at the same time, falling into the deepest abyss.

I can’t look at him.

I’m not ready to face the reality. To accept the irrevocable truth—that I am in love with Rafael De Santi.

A stream of fast-spoken Italian erupts from him. By the tone of his voice, curses, I’m sure. Water sloshes around me as Rafael climbs the ladder, carrying me onboard held up by only one of his arms.

“There are towels in the bathroom,” he grunts, putting me down onto something soft.

When I open my eyes, I find myself sitting on the sofa inside the salon on the main deck. Rafael stands before me, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths as he glares at me.

Without another word, he turns around and steps outside. A moment later, I hear his footfalls as he climbs the ladder to the flybridge, and shortly after, the yacht engines come to life.

The leather rim of the yacht’s steering wheel creaks from the force of my grip. For the past twenty minutes, I’ve barely kept a leash on my temper, barely prevented myself from storming down to the main deck—where Vasilisa has been hiding this whole time—and demanding an explanation.

The list of things I need her to explain is rather long. Starting with why the fuck did she act like a scared little guppy just moments after she so beautifully shattered in my arms. I didn’t expect cuddles, but I did fucking want her to look at me. She had no problem looking at my face before. Did having sex with me disgust her? Because of how I look? I wouldn’t be surprised if a beauty like her has only ever had pretty boys as lovers.

Red haze covers my eyes at the idea of other men who have been close enough to her to touch her. Who have touched her. I grit my teeth and squeeze the wheel harder. I’ll rip apart any man who’s ever put his hands on her in the past and any fucker who might think he has a chance to do it in the future. Vasilisa Petrova is mine. Mine! And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she wants to stay with me.

I’m steering the yacht back to the marina when I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. A speedboat, anchored by the sea stack at the entrance to a cove, just up the coast from here. The Mediterranean might be in the public domain, but everyone in this part of Sicily knows that these waters are mine. So it’s either stupid tourists or my godfather’s men. No one else would be crazy enough to wander here.

I pilot the yacht to the dock and head to the starboard side to throw the marina boy the rope.

“Don’t tie it,” I bark. “I’m heading out again right away.”

The faint tapping of small bare feet sounds behind me. I turn around and find Vasilisa standing with the laptop bag in her hands, staring at the deck.

“I called Guido. He’s coming to drive you to the house.”

She looks up, her eyes finally meeting mine. “What about you?”

I don’t reply. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I pick her up and, holding her to my side, leap onto the dock.

“Put some after-sun lotion on your face when you get back. You’ve got a bit of a sunburn.” I lower her to the ground and jump back on board the yacht.

The marina boy tosses the rope to me. I coil it neatly and, without bothering to look back at Vasilisa, climb up to the flybridge and start the boat, taking it out in reverse. I last about thirty seconds before I kill the engines and turn my eyes toward the marina.

Vasilisa is still on the dock, her hair fluttering in the wind. I can’t see her eyes from this distance, but she is looking in my direction. Standing several feet away, the marina boy is staring at her. I snap. Grabbing the phone from my pocket, I dial the salivating little shit.

“Signor De Santi?”

“Keep staring at my woman one second longer,” I snarl, “and I’ll turn back to gouge your eyes from your stupid head!”

“Of course, Signor De Santi,” he wheezes.

I cut the call and cross my arms over my chest, watching my little hacker. She enjoyed being fucked by me. There was no mistaking the sweet little sounds—the moans and whimpers—she made, or how her body trembled under my touch. The way she clung to me while I pumped into her. How beautifully she unraveled in my embrace. The problem developed only once we were done. After she realized she let the monster take her.

Well, I can’t change the way I look, but I will find a way to make her see past my appearance.

She flushed my check down the toilet. Threw my flowers away. She even refused the jewelry I bought for her. Maybe it wasn’t opulent enough? I should have known better and gotten her something more expensive. A mistake I won’t repeat. No matter how good-looking, no man can compete with my power and will. And none can provide for her the way I can. I need to make her understand that.

Her attention gets snagged by an approaching vehicle. Guido parks his sports car next to the path that leads to the dock. I keep my eyes on Vasilisa as she throws one last look in my direction, then walks up to Guido and his ride. Only after she’s safely inside my brother’s pride and joy do I turn on the engines and steer the yacht back toward the cove where I saw that suspicious boat.

No stars tonight. Just a tiny sliver of moonlight that had punched its way through the clouds, not even enough to illuminate the garden below the balcony. I can barely make out the shapes of a few olive trees in the distance and the oleander shrub next to the antique water pump at the edge of the lawn. Everything else is murky, just like my feelings. I tighten my hold on the massive bath towel wrapped around me while I run my hairbrush through my still-wet hair and sigh.

What am I going to do when Rafael comes home? He still isn’t back from whatever caused him to storm out on his yacht this afternoon, and I’ve been on pins and needles for hours. Can I pretend that nothing happened between us? I don’t think I can. Every time I close my eyes, I’m back in that water again, reliving every second of it. Reproaching myself for enjoying it too much. For wanting him.

“You’ll catch a cold, Vasilisa.”

I tense.

Steps. Slow and determined, coming closer. Warmth at my back as Rafael halts just behind me. Fabric rustling, and then he puts his suit jacket over my shoulders.

“Did you put something on that sunburn?”

“Yes,” I whisper, staring at the grounds below. “Where did you go on your boat earlier?”

“I thought I spotted trespassers. But it was just dumb tourists.” His hands come to rest on the balcony railing, one on either side of me. “After, I had to drop by Messina to resolve a fuckup with a local drug gang.”

“I didn’t know you dealt in drugs.”

“I don’t. That’s what Cosa Nostra does within their part of Sicily. Here, on the east coast, there are a few small groups that deal drugs, and as long as they follow my rules, I let them be.”

“And if they don’t?”

He lets go of the railing, and his hands encircle my waist. I hold my breath, entirely tuned in to his touch as his palm glides lower, under the edge of the towel and between my legs.

“If they don’t, I personally execute the whole gang. Just like I had to do tonight.”

And there it is—one of the main reasons why I am so madly pulled toward him. No sugarcoating. No pretense. Even while keeping me here against my will, he’s treating me as an equal. I’m well aware of how the metaphorical scales stand between us—he is stronger, meaner, and holds the lives of my loved ones in his scarred hand. And yet, I’ve never felt domineered by him. He’s never made me feel inferior in any way.

“We need to talk,” I choke out while he slides his finger between my folds.

“About?” his rough voice taunts next to my ear. Then, he pushes his finger inside me.

“About today.” I grab the railing for support and widen my legs. “About this.”

A kiss lands on the side of my neck. “I’m all ears.”

He pulls his finger out only to push it back inside, deeper. His other hand slips to the inside of my thigh and drifts higher. Tremors shoot down my spine, all the way to my core, the moment his thumb finds my clit. My breathing picks up. Panting, I clutch the towel to my breasts and lean against his chest.

“What did you want to discuss, vespetta?” he prompts, upping his pace.

Yeah, what did I want to discuss? That what happened today on the yacht can never happen again, while I moan in pleasure with his finger buried inside me?

“Nothing,” I choke out as my wetness soaks his hand. “I don’t want to talk about this. Or earlier today. I just want . . .” A small whimper escapes me. What in the hell do I want?

He curls his finger and presses against a spot that makes me see stars. “You just want me to fuck you?”

A supernova goes off in my body, obliterating every cloud in the sky.

“Yes.”

I slide my hand from Vasilisa’s trembling pussy and bring it to my mouth.

“Alright,” I say, licking her sweet juice from my finger. Then, I scoop her into my arms and carry her to the bed. The wall-mounted reading lamp over the headboard is lit, its glow bathes Vasilisa’s milky skin. “You can turn off the light if you want.” Grabbing the sides of my dress shirt, I tug them apart, sending a multitude of buttons clattering to the floor.

Vasilisa just gapes at me, her eyes glued to my fingers as I slowly unzip my pants. My cock is so fucking hard that even walking was difficult. No woman has ever had me so worked up that I actually had to control myself and fight not to explode before I was even in her. She wants me to fuck her without discussing the subject? Fine. We can start with that.

The moment my clothes are off, I climb on the bed and cover her body with mine. She is so fucking small. I brace my weight on my forearms, fearing I’ll squash her beneath me. Her snarky personality is so overwhelming that I often forget how tiny she really is. And with so much pent-up aggression inside me at the moment, I don’t think I can hold back and go slow like I did earlier today.

I capture her lips with mine in an angry kiss, then shift to the small dip between her collarbones. My palms glide down her ribs as I kiss her breasts. Her stomach. The spot just below her navel. The towel comes loose and tangles under her, giving me unrestricted access to her body, which quivers under my touch as I move lower, to her pussy. It’s still wet. She opens her legs wider, and I bury my face in her delicious center.

Mewling little moans leave Vasilisa’s lips as I lick her pretty pink slit, keeping my movements slow at first, then gradually upping the rhythm, focused on every sound she makes. I’m going to learn every single secret of her body. Explore every inch of her skin. Every sensual spot. I’m going to learn to play her like the most delicate instrument, make her crave my touch and no one else’s. As I slide my tongue inside her, she arches her back so hard that, for a moment, I fear she’ll hurt herself.

“Easy.” I move my palm along her spine, feeling her body vibrate like a violin string in my hand. “Just a little bit more.”

Two more licks, ever so languid this time, before I close my lips around her clit and suck it into my mouth.

Vasilisa’s low, delirious sounds fill the room, transforming into reverent screams when I take a nip of her sweet bud. Her fingers squeeze my hair as her body begins to shake uncontrollably. She’s ready. With one last lick of her soaked pussy, I move up her body, trailing kisses along her soft skin. Marking every inch of it as mine.

I wasn’t her first, and she might not yet realize this, but I will be her last. The alternative is not an option.

“Have you ever had a man worship you, Vasilisa?” I bend my head until our foreheads touch and slide the tip of my cock between her folds. “Not just your beautiful face and your gorgeous body, but every single thing that makes you—you?”

Her pretty eyes widen. Her lips part, but no words come out.

“Do you know how much it turns me on, to watch you bite that damn pencil every night while you fix the mess inside my company’s systems? Seeing how your genius mind works is a damn aphrodisiac, vespetta. Every time after we finished a ‘work session,’ I had to rush to the bathroom to jerk off, all to prevent my dick from exploding.”

The air leaves her lips in quick, sharp puffs. I slam my mouth to hers, mixing our breaths together, and push with my hips just enough to get my cock halfway inside. She pulls my hair and opens herself for me even more. My restraint is hanging on by the tiniest thread, so when she tilts her pelvis up in invitation, it snaps completely. I thrust into her, burying myself in her silky warmth.

“Your pussy was made for me.” Nibbling her glistening skin, I move my lips along her jawline. “Do you like how my cock fills you to the brim?”

“Yes.” A throaty moan next to my ear.

“Good. Because it’s the only cock you’ll ever have inside you from this point on.” I retreat, then slide into her again. “You’re staying in Sicily, Vasilisa. Forever.”

“No, I’m not.”

I seize her chin with my fingers and pin her with my stare. Her face is flushed and her lips quiver, but the look in her eyes is fierce and determined.

“You gave me your word,” she continues. “When I’m done fixing your systems, I’m free to go.”

I lose my ever-loving shit.

Grabbing the back of her neck, I plunge into her. My sanity is gone. My sense of reality—nonexistent. I ravage her kiss-swollen lips as I pound into her like a madman. The only things I can fathom are Vasilisa’s panting, the feeling of her legs clutching my waist, and the smell of her shampoo. My shampoo. I’m never letting her use any other. She is mine.

My eyes are glued to her face, absorbing every single detail about her. The way her lips part when she draws in a breath each time I thrust inside her. The strands of her hair, plastered to her flushed face. The fluttering of her long black lashes as she rides the pleasure I give her. There isn’t a more beautiful sight on this earth.

The bed creaks and protests under our weight. Vasilisa’s ragged breaths turn into ardent cries as she nears the edge. I can feel her walls clenching around me, but I force myself to hold back. It’s the most magnificent torture. As her climax approaches, I change my pace and continue to move inside her with deliberate slowness, prolonging the delicious tension between us. Finally, her body starts to shake again, and a loud scream escapes her lips as she reaches the peak of ecstasy. I let her enjoy that bliss for just a moment, then thrust hard, balls-deep into her tight little cunt, triggering yet another orgasm before she eases off her last.

A burst of white fills my vision, and I’m overcome with spasms as my cum paints Vasilisa’s insides. My lungs are struggling to draw in enough oxygen, and heat settles in my chest. I’ve never felt this way. Did too much of my blood get redirected to my cock?

Or maybe, that’s how it feels to make love to someone you’re in love with.