Page 62 of Pietro

"Judge Morrison." Pietro shakes his hand, the grip firm but brief. "This is Nora Kelly."

The judge's eyes assess me with sharp intelligence. "Lovely to meet you, my dear. And what do you do?"

"She keeps me from destroying everything I touch," Pietro answers before I can speak.

The judge laughs, but his wife's gaze sharpens. She sees through the deflection, recognizes the claim Pietro just made. I'm not just an employee. I'm his.

We move through the room in a careful dance. Pietro introduces me to business associates, city councilmen, people whose names I recognize from newspaper headlines. Each introduction carries weight. He's establishing my place in his world, making it clear I'm under his protection.

"Pietro Sartori." A smooth voice cuts through the classical music. "And the mysterious Miss Kelly."

A man approaches with the confidence of a man who's never been told no. His smile reveals too many teeth, his eyes lingering on the dip of my neckline.

"Thomas." Pietro's voice drops an octave.

"I was hoping to ask your lovely companion for a dance." Thomas extends his hand toward me. "If you don't mind sharing."

The temperature around Pietro plummets. "I mind."

"Just one dance. I promise to return her unharmed."

Pietro steps between us, his back to me, facing Thomas. "Find someone else to entertain you."

Thomas's smile finally falters. He nods, backing away with raised hands. "Message received."

I didn’t want to dance with him either way.

As soon as he's gone, Pietro turns to me. "Dance with me."

"That wasn't a question."

"No, it wasn't."

He leads me onto the floor as the orchestra begins a waltz. His hand spans my lower back, warm through the silk. Our joined hands create a circuit of electricity.

"You didn't have to be so territorial."

"Yes, I did." He spins me, pulling me back against his chest. "Every man in this room needs to understand you're off limits."

"I'm not property, Pietro."

"No. You're more dangerous than property." His eyes burn into mine. "Property can be stolen. You?" Another spin, another pull closer. "You could destroy me by choice."

"What are you saying?"

"You're in my head, Nora," he says, the words rough, torn from him. "I close my eyes, and you're there. I wake up, and my hand is reaching for your side of the bed. A hundred women, Nora. Faceless. Not one of them—" His jaw works.

"Not one of them what?" I whisper.

His eyes burn into mine. "Not one of them made me want to see the sunrise. I was a dead man after Pablo. Walking, breathing, but dead. Then you. You walked into my office, all fire and defiance, and for the first time in years, I wanted tomorrow to come."

My heart cracks open. "You barely know me."

"I know enough." He dips me, his face inches from mine. "I know you're brave and brilliant. I know you see through everyone's masks, including mine. I know you make me want impossible things."

"Like what?"

"Like keeping you." He pulls me upright, our bodies aligned.