Page 85 of Blood Debt

He moves toward the sideboard, uncorking a fresh bottle of something dark and expensive. “He rejected you again?”

My jaw tightens. “Shut up, Marcello.”

He shrugs, the line of his shoulders casual, but there’s a glint in his pale eyes when he finally looks back at me.

For a moment, I say nothing, just breathe in the thick smoke curling from the cigar he lights and rests between his lips. The ember glows as he draws in a slow lungful, then exhales toward the ceiling.

I sit up, cradling my wine. “What about this stupid plan of yours to take the Bellarosas down?”

His mouth curves—not into a smile exactly, but something close. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t mess with me, Marcello. I know you met with his maid.”

“So you’re stalking the maid now.” He smiles cruelly.

I am unfazed by his mockery. He leans back against the desk, cigar in hand, eyes half-lidded as if picturing the fall of an empire.

Marcello’s mouth curves in that slow, infuriating way of his as he leans in until I can feel the warmth of his breath against my cheek.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, “are you jealous the maid is fucking your crush?”

I hold his gaze, unblinking. “Fiancé,” I correct, the word slicing between us.

He laughs—right in my face. A low, rich sound that makes my grip tighten. My fingers loop around his wrist, nails pressing faint crescents into his skin.

“And you?” I counter. “Are you jealous that I want him, not you?”

He tilts his head, his hand sliding to my waist. “Why the hell would I be jealous?” His tone drips with mockery.

I push him away, hard enough to make him take a step back. “I want her gone after this,” I say, my voice like steel. “And you deliver Cristofano to me—alive and broken.”

His pale blue eyes glint. He leans in, lips brushing my neck. “I will…for a small price.”

“Don’t be disgusting,” I snap, stepping out of reach. “We’re related.”

He smiles, shark-like. “I’m an illegitimate child, darling. No blood between us.” His voice drops, low and dangerous. “I can show you what a real man can do. I only care about the Black Book. I’ll snap Cristofano’s limbs and hand him to you—curved, crushed in spirit and in body. At your mercy.”

The corner of my mouth lifts. “And the maid?”

He exhales a puff of air as if blowing her existence away.

I stand slowly, set my glass aside…then upend the rest of the wine straight over his face. Red rivulets streak down his jaw and chest. His grin only widens.

Before he can speak, I grab his collar, pull him in, and run my tongue slowly across his lips, tasting wine and smoke. “Then you deserve a treat.”

His eyes darken, and as my blouse loosens under his fingers, that wicked smile of his never falters.

His fingers tear open my blouse, pushing it off my shoulders before I can even catch my balance. The bed hits the back of my knees, and I fall into it; the sheets are cool against my skin.

There’s red wine staining the corner of his mouth, a dark smear along his cheek. He leans over me, eyes sharp.

“You should think of Cristofano when I fuck you.”

“Go kill yourself,” I snap.

He grins, teeth flashing like he’s been waiting for that. He’s already shirtless, muscles flexing as he kicks off his pants in one motion.

In the next second, he’s between my legs, pushing into me in a single thrust.