Page 31 of Thorns of Death

She let out a choked laugh. “I don’t really know you.”

“Sure you do,” I said, brushing my lips over hers. “After all, you’ve seen every inch of me.”

She gulped, a flush working its way over her creamy skin. “That night is kind of hazy.”

I chuckled.

“A reminder, then.”

It was a half-teasing, half-serious attempt to break this tension that brewed between us. It would be better for both of us if this sizzling attraction were nonexistent. But here we were, drowning in it like it was our lifeline. At least, I knew it was my lifeline. A reason that I had been searching for.

“So is it true?” she muttered, her eyes cautiously on me.

“What’s that,dolcezza?”

“That you’re mafia.”

The Marchetti empire was built on our history in the underworld and, while we’d established many legitimate businesses, we were still heavily involved. Once in Omertà, the only way out was through death. What they failed to tell you was that they meant deathof the entire bloodline. It wasn’t what I wanted for myself nor my children. I had never signed up for this life, yet it found me. And when I was dead and gone, it’d find Amadeo and Enzo. It was the way of life in Omertà. Those were the thorns.

I couldn’t admit it to her, even though she obviously had her own connections to it. Maybe unknowingly, or maybe she was just a phenomenal actress.

“Don’t be afraid. I’ll never hurt you, Isla.” Then because I couldn’t resist, I added, “Not unless it involves giving you mind-blowing pleasure.”

Isla’s eyes widened and her mouth gaped, tempting me with the image of my cock sliding between those plump lips. Her cheeks flushed crimson, almost matching the shade of her beautiful bright hair. My fingers itched to touch her long locks, spilling in waves of coppery silk down her back and wrapping them around my fist.

I forced that vivid image out of my mind. I didn’t need a hard-on while trying to work this out with her. We might not end up in a church with wedding bells, but like a schoolboy, I wanted to keep her as mine.

I really needed to pull my head out of my ass, but I feared it was too late. This minx cast a spell on me, and there was no getting away. Her small palms came to my chest and she gently nudged me away.

“Umm, want to sit down?” she offered. “I was going to fix myself some lunch. Do you want some?”

My lips tugged up. “I’d rather haveyoufor lunch.”

Her beautiful face turned an even deeper shade of red, and I fucking loved it. I couldn’t remember the last time I enjoyed seeing a woman’s reaction so much. She was so close to me that I could count every little freckle as she stared up at me.

Reaching out, I twirled a piece of her hair around my finger, marveling at its softness and the variation of lights reflecting in it.

Her gaze locked on my face, pure innocence and marvel in her features. If I were a better man, I’d let her go. Move on. But I was far from a good man. And when it came to her, I was selfish as fuck.

I released her ginger curl, throwing off the colors of a burning sunset, and watched in fascination as it bounced softly. Slowly, I dragged my thumb across her lips. Our first night together was rushed, filled with hunger and lust. Today, I wanted to worship her and see those emerald depths haze over with pleasure.

I wanted to take care of her and wreck her at the same time, only to put her back together so she’d learn who she belonged to.

“We can arrange that,” she said in a breathy voice. Fuck, the way my heart tripped should have been my warning. I’d had plenty of women in my life. They never had my pulse racing, not like this. Yet this young woman had all these unfamiliar emotions bouncing around in my chest. “But first you’re going to eat the lunch that I prepare for you.”

My chest grew warm at the playful expression in her eyes, and I smiled at her eagerness to cook for me.

“You know, in my country, cooking is synonymous with care,” I drawled.

She rolled her eyes. “Well, Enrico. We’re in France now. Lunch is the time to converse and learn things about each other.”

A sardonic breath left me. “Very well,dolcezza. Let’s converse, and then we’ll fuck.”

Her blush disappeared under her clothes. My gaze trailed down her neck over her one exposed shoulder and I watched in fascination as her blush disappeared, hidden by her white, off-the-shoulder sweater. It hung loosely over the black leggings she paired it with.

I slid off my jacket and hung it on one of the five chairs that sat around the island.

“Okay, Isla,” I said. “Tell me what we’re fixing for lunch. I’ll let you boss me around in the kitchen.”