“You fall for a girl.”
I step closer, my patience worn down to a ragged thread. “I’m going to go shower before I decide to break your face instead.”
“As if you could.” His eyes dance with challenge.
It’s a temptation I can’t refuse. I start to turn away as though retreating, then spin back and sucker punch him in the gut.
“That’s for yesterday, you dickhead.”
He bends at the waist and wheezes through a chuckle. “NowthatI shoulda seen comin’.”
“I wouldn’t be too hard on yourself. You always were a little slow.”
“Fuck you, Tommy,” he calls at my back as I head to my bedroom.
“Fuck you, too, Sante,” I echo, a satisfied grin spreading wide on my face.
CHAPTER 8
DANIKA
I don’t knowhow to process what just happened. Technically, it’s been an hour since Tommy flung a knife at my head, but the emotions cling to me as though I can still see the blade out of the corner of my eye—the shock and fear washing over me like a December rain. But the chill only lasted for the briefest second before Tommy’s scalding touch brought on a very different storm of emotions.
The palpable desire in his eyes—the reverent caress of his hand—there’s no denying Tommaso Donati desires me. It’s so confusing because I know he resents my presence. Last night, I was certain he was holding me out of irritation. But now … I’m not so sure.
A strange pull exists between us. It’s heady and intriguing and incredibly dangerous.
It’s the reason I made that ridiculous body comment. I wish I could say I mentally blacked out during those few seconds and wasn’t to blame, but I was all too aware of what I asked. I tasted the words on my tongue, and they were too delicious to resist.
I shouldnotbe crushing on this man.
The fact that I’m giving it any mental energy at all is inexcusable. Tommy is unpredictable at best and possiblyunhinged. He’s Mafia. That alone should repulse me. And it does, when I think about it, but my body responds to him without thought. Something about this complicated man speaks to me on an elemental level, and I don’t know how to turn that off. Regardless, I have to find a way because having one deranged killer in my life is one too many. I refuse to invite more fear and corruption into my world.
“Danika?” Amelie’s quiet call at my bedroom door startles me from my thoughts. I hurry over and let her in.
“Hey, how’s it going?” It’s such an odd question, considering our situation, but she’s been kind, and my manners are too ingrained to be rude.
“I’m good—how about you?” She looks me over worriedly as we sit on the end of the bed facing one another.
“I’m okay. Spent the night cuffed to the bed and had a knife thrown at my head this morning, but otherwise, I’m good.”
Amelie stares wide-eyed. “Oh my God. Please tell me you’re joking.”
I shake my head.
She takes my hands in hers and leans close. “I swear he’s not a bad man.” She seems to reconsider her words before continuing. “Let’s just say this, I’d bet my life that he’d never actually hurt you.”
I withdraw my hands, not liking the comfort they give. This woman is Mafia just as much as her husband. It would be idiotic to trust her.
“How long have you and Sante been married?” I ask, hoping to change the subject and learn a bit more about the people who hold my life in their hands.
Her answering smile is a mix of joy and embarrassment. “A little over a month. Our families are close.”
I’m not sure why she’d feel compelled to explain being newly married. I get the sense she’s implying their relationship isn’t conventional, but I’m not sure why.
“Was the marriage arranged?” I ask.
“Oh! No, we just got married quickly. I’ve gotten used to having to explain the whirlwind romance.”
