Page 42 of Blood Debt

He lets his guard down for women. For seduction. That was obvious in how easily his defenses slipped tonight. I’d seen it in his smile, the haze in his gaze, the way he reached for me like I was a promise he forgot he made.

I push myself to my feet. My knees ache. My hip throbs from hitting the bedframe.

I move to the mirror. My face is pale, flushed at the edges. My lips are red. Not from lipstick.

I stare at myself. And then, under my breath, I whisper his name:

“Cristofano Vittorio Bellarosa.”

The name feels poisonous in my mouth. “You want sweet little maids?” I murmur. “Innocent girls who say thank you and don’t look you in the eyes?”

I tilt my head.

“Okay.”

My reflection stares back, trembling and glassy-eyed—but something harder lives in the corners now. “You took Isla from me. You tried to put your hands on my daughter’s life.”

I take one breath..

Then I say it out loud.

“I’ll string you along with your own lust…and I’ll bury you with it.”

Chapter 10 – Cristofano

Bellarosa Estate

My skull is splitting.

I groan and shove the heel of my palm into my forehead, as if I could press the pain back in.

The sun slices through the curtains, stabbing right through my eyelids. I blink against it, squinting into the blur. The sheets are twisted around my hips, heavy with heat and sweat and the haze of memory.

My mouth tastes like smoke and liquor. My back aches. My head’s a drumbeat.

“Matteo,” I rasp, sitting up with effort. “Matteo, you bastard, you were supposed to—”

The door clicks. Not Matteo.

She glides in.

Tight black dress. Bare shoulders. Her legs stretch long beneath the hem. Her hair is slicked back into a twist. Eyes lined thick, red lipstick already smudged like she’s come from somewhere else.

Alessandra. The woman my father insists on. She crosses the room like she owns it and perches on the edge of the bed, her thigh brushing mine.

She leans in, cupping my face.

Her mouth presses to mine before I can move.

I pull back. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and stare at her.

“What do you want?”

She smiles, tilting her head. “I want you.”

She reaches down, unzips her purse with a slow, fluid motion, and pulls out a box of condoms. Tosses them onto the bed between us like a peace offering.

I stare at the box. Then her.