Page 13 of Love At the Gates of Hell (The Seven Sinners Trilogy #1)

She sputtered into her drink, and he couldn’t help but like the pink he saw creep into her skin. She coughed as she turned back to look at him, her fingers brushing against her bottom lip. A funny little smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“You love being in charge, don’t you?”

That felt like a trick question.

“I’m just doing what was asked of me, Russo,” he said. “Keeping you safe includes not letting you drink yourself to death.”

“You’re not gonna get rid of me that easily,” she mused.

“Clearly,” he said, fingers ghosting the bruise on his jaw absently.

Her eyes tracked the movement, her features softening.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “If I had known it was you—"

“You might have swung harder?”

“No,” she said quietly, though there was something light in her tone, her cheeks warming again. “I just think I’m starting to see the benefit of having you around.”

“Is that right?” he asked.

“My own personal hero,” she mused.

He let out a breath. “Don’t do that,” he said. “That’s nothing close to what I am.”

“Right, right,” she nodded. “Big bad bank robber. Wanted felon. Yadda, yadda.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” he told her, though there wasn’t a bite to his words but a plea. “The things I’ve done…”

“Some of us didn’t have a head start on the reconnaissance work,” she told him, her head tilting back toward the damned pin board. “But we’re roommates now, Crawford. I’ll figure you out soon enough.”

“That sounds a little threatening.”

The laugh that passed through her lips was as delicious as any whiskey he’d ever tasted. A thought so sudden, it nearly knocked him back. But he pushed it away, tamped it down. That was not what this was. Or could be.

But then she shifted to her knees, drawing herself up to meet his height, her body only inches from where he was perched on the arm of the sofa.

And just as it had every other time he had her this close, his heartbeat started to quicken in his chest. He watched as she tilted her head, considering him with those deep brown eyes.

“I can heal it,” she said, peering up at him. “If you want.”

It barely stung, he thought.He shook his head. He didn’t mind it so much.

“Show me another kind of magic,” he said before he could stop himself.

Her face lit up and any regret he had fizzled away. She sank back down onto the sofa, folding her legs beneath her body before patting the seat beside her. “Come here.”

He hesitated for only a moment before he slid down next to her, her feet pressing against the outside of his thigh.

She wriggled a little in her seat as she flexed her wrists and Gideon wondered what he’d gotten himself into, what rabbit she was going to pull out of a hat.

But she merely held her hands up in front of her, fingers wiggling gently, and suddenly little flickers of light began to glow in the air in front of them, a warmth filling the room.

Like the muggy heat of the August night had seeped into the loft.

He blinked, letting his eyes adjust, like his brain couldn’t wrap itself around what could suddenly just appear.

“Fireflies,” Benedetta said, waving her hand, the lights moving in a fluid wave. “That’s what my mom used to call them when I was a kid. It’s just energy, really. The air is thick with it.”

The lights shifted into something more solid, like a glowing orb, and she reached out, her hand curving around the shape.

She let it rest in her palm and Gideon could feel its heat.

He turned to look at her and found her aglow, her skin glimmering in the reflection of the light, her eyes bright and clear and delighted.

He could see now, why she was so fervent about her practice, why she’d choose death over the lack of her magic.

She raised her eyes to meet his and for a moment, this was all there was between them. Until she closed her hand into a fist and the light snuffed out, Benedetta still staring at him in the sudden darkness.

“Why’d you say yes?” she asked.

Gideon didn’t allow himself to consider another answer. “A job is a job.”

She pressed her lips into a line as she nodded her head.

“Yeah, of course. Double the offer.”

“It’s a lot of money,” he said quietly.

“I bet.” She drained what was left in her glass and slid it onto the coffee table as another yawn escaped her lips. “You’re right. I should get some sleep.”

“Good idea,” he said as he got to his feet.

But she didn’t budge from the sofa. Instead, she grabbed one of the throw pillows and curled herself up on her side, her fists drawn up to her chin as she closed her eyes. Her voice was soft when she murmured, “Goodnight.”

Gideon frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Going to bed.”

“Wrong bed, Russo.”

“Walking is too much. I’m really comfortable here.”

He chuckled quietly. “Bullshit.”

This was a sitting sofa. Not really a sleeping one. And it was absolutely responsible for the current crick in Gideon’s neck. But he wasn’t going to tell her that.

Benedetta’s eyes fluttered open as he crouched down beside her, all warm and soft and drowsy. Something else was there too. Something more vulnerable than he expected to see from her, and he didn’t quite know what to make of it.

What would have happened if he had seen her in the wild? If they had been strangers. Their lives different. If they had stumbled upon each other during a late-night coffee at Betty’s or even the art museum. She seemed like the type to hang around at the Rodin. Would he have tried to talk to her?

When was the last time he allowed himself to do that?

Gideon never considered himself much of a coward, but when it came to women, he had a hard time with relationships.

With committing to anything longer than a one-night stand or a short fling.

But his line of business didn’t lend itself to being a decent partner.

Hell, his parents’ marriage was a goddamn nightmare from start to finish.

By the time his mother walked out, she couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as his father. Even as young as he was, he could see it. He could feel it.

He wasn’t sure he could take the risk.

“You said yes and now I have your room,” she said, frowning.

“You definitely don’t want Luke’s,” he grinned. “Come on, let’s get you into a real bed.”

“But what about you?” she asked as she pushed herself up to a sitting position, her hair falling across her shoulder as she leaned on the palm of her hand.

“What about me?”

“This couch sucks.”

He barked out a surprised laugh. “That’s not for you to worry about.”

“You don’t have to be so nice, you know,” she said. “I’m a big girl. We can share.”

Gideon stiffened.

“I’m fine out here,” he said again, more sternly.

The idea of sleeping beside Benedetta was like a shock of electricity through his body.

Another feeling he had to shove back down to wherever annoying place it came from.

Because absolutely the fuck not. He knew better.

He pulled himself back, sitting on the edge of the coffee table across from her, both their empty glasses resting beside him.

“Now, come on,” he said, voice gentler as he reached for her.

She took his offered hand with only a moment of hesitation, and he was careful to keep her steady as she got to her feet.

“Okay, okay,” she grumbled. She rubbed her hand across her face ruefully. “You gotta quit this whole knight in shining armor thing whenever I’m about to fall over.”

He couldn’t help but laugh.

“That’s just part of the job.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve made that clear,” she said with a glare that held no real malice as she slipped past him and began to make her way back toward the bedroom. “Goodnight, Gideon.”

He didn’t think he’d ever heard his name before on her lips.

He didn’t think he’d like the sound so much.

“Goodnight, princess.”