Page 113 of Thorns of Death

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Three hours later, we were back at the hotel. The boys were in their suite. Enrico was in the shower. And I was sitting on the edge of the bed in my lingerie.

Whoever packed my clothes must have had a wonderful sense of humor, because it was the only thing I had to sleep in. The ridiculous babydoll gown barely covered my ass, and that was saying something considering its matching pair of panties was a thong.

“How the fuck am I supposed to have a serious conversation wearing this?” I muttered under my breath, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

I stood up and padded across the floor to Enrico’s suitcase. “Aha.”

Reaching for the hem of my babydoll, I pulled it over my head and slid his shirt on.

I found my reflection in the mirror and nodded in satisfaction. It came down to my knees, but at least my ass wasn’t on full display.

“I like it.” Enrico’s voice startled me and our eyes met in the mirror. He was naked except for the towel around his waist, his big body glistening from the shower.

An ache pulsed between my thighs and I gulped. Loudly. A shiver worked its way over my skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake. I could feel the dampness between my legs, the throbbing urging me to go to him and demand he relieve this need.

I mentally slapped myself. I’d covered my ass, but failed to ensure Enrico was covered too. So now I was gawking at his temping body while my mouth salivated.Wonderful.

“Put some clothes on,” I demanded, my voice breathless.

The smile appeared on his handsome face, making him look younger than his forty-three years. “I have something on,” he drawled, his deep voice doing things to me.

I averted my eyes. I was stronger than my body’s response. We’d talk, and then if he was good, we’d fuck.

Yes, good plan.

“How long have you known about my mother?” Might as well cut straight to the chase.

I didn’t have to look at him to know he’d grown tense. The temperature in the room lowered by a few degrees, and I held my breath as I waited.

“I learned after I left your apartment, the day you made me those god-awful cucumber sandwiches.”

When I looked at him, I saw the truth in his gaze. He was no longer smiling, regret evident on his face.

I swallowed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He walked over to me, stopping barely a foot away. His scent washed over me—strong and masculine—and my body shuddered with the familiarity of it. Lust surged through me, but I refused to cave.

For this to work, it had to be a partnership. An equal one.

All these men had to stop leaving me in the dark. It was fucked up that Donatella knew about my mother’s past and I didn’t.

“I wanted us to be married first to keep from losing you.” His admission had me doing a double take. Judging by the serious expression on his face, he wasn’t joking.

“Why didn’t you tell me right after the wedding?”

Enrico’s gaze darkened. “Fuck, Isla. You really don’t know?”

Hope—or something like it—flickered in my chest. “I want you to tell me.”

“Because I want your love, not your hate.” He cupped my cheeks, his fingers firm as he bent his tall frame, pressing a kiss to the tip of my nose. “I didn’t even fucking know I was falling for you until it was too late. I fucking dread losing you. To your brother. To your uncle. It seems you’re able to leave me without a second thought while all I think about is you. On my dick. In my home. In my bed.”

He was falling for me,my heart sang.I clearly had to re-evaluate my priorities.

“I don’t want secrets between us.” His thumb rubbed my lower lip and my lips parted of their own will. He pushed the pad of his finger inside and I gently bit him. He slid his finger from my lips. “I shouldn’t be blindsided by Donatella telling me about my mother in a Marchetti brothel.” His whole posture tensed and anger rolled from him in waves. “It is no different than Illias keeping secrets from me. I’m done with that shit.”

“How does Donatella know about your mother?”