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Her hands shoot up to my chest in surprise, though she doesn’t push me away. Her lips press against mine, so sweet and supple. Naturally parted so that I trap her bottom lip between mine and lightly suck.

It’s just the kind of teasing play that gets a woman like Portia James going.

The slow seduction and hot passion.

My hand caressing its way up the length of her spine and drawing a shudder out of her. The boldness with which I kiss her, like I’m laying claim. I’m taking charge and making it known how crazy she makes me.

For a woman who has always stood on her own—even in her marriage—it melts her defenses.

It has her releasing a moan as I kiss her lips and then massage her tongue with mine.

When we part ways, she’s half dazed and breathless. I cup her chin and run my thumb along the same bottom lip I’ve just stopped teasing.

“If you won’t move, I’m having the locks changed,” I say. “And I’m speaking to your landlord. This will never happen again, but if it does—if he ever comes near you, I want to hear about it.”

She gives a nod, blinking out of her stupor.

I drop one last kiss on her lips as a goodbye.

Adagio and Maurizio are waiting outside the apartment building. I fall into step with them on our walk toward our cars.

“Find Lincoln Powell,” I say, flattening my hand over my tie. “I want the piece of shit brought to me.”

15

RAFAEL

“PLEASE!”Lincoln Powell screams, his words muffled by the water drowning him. “PLEASE LET ME GO!”

Maurizio looks up at me for direction.

I stand far enough away from the tank of water to keep my Armani suit dry, the devil mask obscuring my identity, my arms folded behind my back. I was in a business meeting when Adagio called me up and told me they had adducted Lincoln Powell off the street and brought him to the warehouse that doubles as our base of operations.

The pathetic sack of shit squirms like a pig about to be slaughtered as Maurizio grips him by the back of the neck and pushes his head under water, creating the feeling he’s drowning.

I give it another forty seconds, waiting ’til he’s right about to lose consciousness, and then motion for him to let Lincoln up.

Portia’s ex gasps as he’s given air for the first time in a couple minutes. He spits up water, his once wavy hair draped across his forehead, clothes soaked through. He looks pitiful, his blindfold covering his ability to see.

I step toward him. “Have you had enough time to think about what you’ve done?”

“P-Please,” he stammers. “I-I don’t… if… if it’s money for that b-business loan?—”

“This isn’t about a fucking business loan for one of your silly failed startups, Lincoln. This is about how you’ve been inappropriate.”

“Wha… what? I… I never…”

“Give him some more time to think about it. Clearly he hasn’t learned a thing.”

Maurizio is happy to oblige. As Lincoln erupts in a scream of panic, Maurizio snatches him up by his nape and dunks his head back under water. A trail of bubbles burst from his nostrils as he squeezes his eyes shut and jerks violently against Maurizio’s grip.

“Usually they start losing fight by now. He has a lot of energy,” Maurizio says.

“Energy he could use for getting a fucking job instead of harassing his ex-wife,” I snarl, barely restraining myself. “Bring him back up.”

Maurizio yanks him back out of the tank, more water splashing onto the floor. Lincoln coughs up more of it too as his chest hitches and he struggles to breathe. I step back toward him, patience run thin.

“I’m going to keep this simple for you, Lincoln. Are you paying attention?”