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Not just because he'd kidnapped me or because he was clearly Bratva from the nature of their business and conversations. But because when he'd stood so close, looking at me with those whiskey eyes, I'd forgotten to be afraid.

Chapter 7 - Gio

The next morning, I knocked lightly on Larissa’s door, balancing the tray of breakfast in my other hand. By no means had I forgiven her for her inquisition into my family last night, but rather, this was my way of wearing her down. I’d asked the maid to let me bring her breakfast since I wanted any opportunity I could have to question her.

“Come in!” I heard her say, and when I entered, I paused. She had her back to me as she dried her hair over the bureau. I felt rooted to the ground as my eyes lingered over her—she was in nothing but a towel, the planes of her shoulders and curves of her legs branching out like a sculpture.

I felt my breath hitch. God. She was beautiful.

I cleared my throat to announce my presence and averted my gaze. She turned, gasping. “Oh my god,” I heard her muffled voice over the sound of the hairdryer before she unplugged it. “I thought you were the maid!”

“Surprise,” I said, meeting her eyes and giving her a little shrug.

She looked mortified, her embarrassment coloring a pretty pink across her cheeks.

“Excuse me,” she said hoarsely, as she ran into the bathroom.

When she emerged fully dressed, I saw the look of disappointment on her face. “You’re still here?” she questioned accusatorially and crossed her arms in front of her chest, giving me a glare that could melt a man on the spot.

I leaned back against the wall, my hands in my pocket. “A thank you for bringing breakfast would suffice.”

“The maids finally quit, huh? Realized how crazy you were as a boss?”

Oh, she was sassy, all right. That mouth of hers could fire off insults, and I was all for it.

“Rather, they didn’t wish to serve a spy,” I said right back.

Her eyes narrowed as she eyed the food on the bed, then reached for mine. Of course, she didn’t reach for the food. Probably thought I’d poisoned it or something.

She then turned to me, “I told you I’m not a spy.”

“Oh, we’re taking that route again, Larissa?” I asked, anger rising in my chest. What was I doing? Admiring her beauty, her sass, her wit, when she was my enemy. God forbid that instead of tearing her down, I ended up shattered. I had to be more careful around her tricks.

“And what route is that, Gio?” Her voice rose an octave.

“The lying. If you weren’t a spy, then why the hell did you ask all those questions last night? About my family, our home, our business, and security measures?”

“Fine. You want to know the truth?” she declared, raising her hands in the air in frustration. “I wanted to gather all the information I could. I wanted to use anything I could to get out of here. You have no reason to keep me here!”

“I have every reason!” I clenched my fist and punched the air in frustration.

Larissa flinched, backing into the corner of the room, her eyes never leaving my face. For a brief moment, I felt bad for my display of rage, for scaring her, but then I remembered what her brothers did.

“Stop playing the innocent Mafia princess. I’ve had it with you. It’s bad enough your brothers bombed my operation just two weeks ago. You realize that they could have killed my men? My brothers? Me?”

Her mouth hung half-open and she shook her head in denial, her face going pale as she extended her hands toward me in shocked appeasement and disbelief.

“What? What are you saying? My brothers are in the Mafia, yes,” she began, her voice barely a whisper, “but they are not cruel. They would never hurt people, let alone kill anyone. They… they couldn’t have bombed your place. They…couldn’t.”

“Stop it,” I growled, my voice low. “Just stop with the act. My men were innocent. We were innocent. We never deserved their wrath.”

“They didn’t do it,” she insisted in a quiet whisper, more to herself than to me, and as I watched, tears welled in her eyes. “They would never bomb innocent people. They wouldn’t.”

“You’re protecting them!” I roared, and she flinched once more. Her eyes returned to the moment as if she had been lost in thought.

“I’m not!” Larissa's voice trembled, but there was steel beneath it as she raised her chin at me defiantly, looking like a true queen. Even dressed in those jeans and a plain black sweater, she somehow maintained an aristocratic bearing, as if captivity was beneath her dignity. “I've told you a hundred times, I don't know why you're keeping me here! You’ve got it all wrong.”

The anger was now rising to an eruption. I had been there that wretched day, and to hear its existence being denied burned within me. Memories of the blast resurfaced: the screams, the shattered glass, the blood, and the cries.