said. ‘I told you that in the club.’
‘Ah, then you’ll have to forgive me my poor memory. Someone must have spiked my drink.’ He shifted on the bed, as if he was getting himself more comfortable, a lazy movement that drew attention to his powerful body. ‘So, are you going to stand there all night talking at me or are you going to murder me in cold blood? If it’s the former, I hope you don’t mind if I go to sleep. All this excitement is exhausting.’ He shifted again and she caught a hint of his aftershave, warm and exotic, like sandalwood. It was delicious.
She took a steadying breath, trying to ignore the scent. ‘Don’t you care at all which one it is?’
‘Since you’re not going to kill me, not particularly.’
Her finger on the trigger itched. ‘You don’t know that.’
‘Please, darling. Like I’ve already told you, if you’d really wanted to kill me you would have done it by now.’
He’s right. You would have.
Except she hadn’t. She’d told herself she couldn’t shoot an unarmed and unconscious man. Plus, he needed to know why he had to die, otherwise what would be the point? But now he was awake and she wasn’t telling him why he had to die. She was lying and pretending to be someone else instead.
What was she doing?
You don’t want to kill him.
A shiver passed through her. She had to kill him. This was the job she’d undertaken months ago, for her father and for the sake of her brother’s memory. For the honour of the Montefiores.
An eye for an eye. Blood for blood.
One of Luca Cardinali’s sons had to die and, as his older brother Enzo was untouchable, that left only Dante.
Except...
His eyes were inky in the dim light of the room and they seemed to see right into her soul. There was no sharpness in them, only a velvet darkness that wrapped her up and held her tight.
‘Lower the gun, sweetheart,’ he said quietly. ‘No matter what I’ve done, nothing is worth that stain on your soul.’
No, she shouldn’t lower the gun. She needed to keep everything her father had told her about blood, honour and revenge in the forefront of her mind. She needed to be strong and, most important of all, hard. There could be no emotional weakness now.
And yet...her hand was shaking and she didn’t understand why he should be so concerned with her soul when she herself didn’t care about what happened to her after this was over.
‘My soul is none of your business.’ She tried to keep her voice firm and sure.
‘If you’re preparing to risk it to kill me, then it most certainly is my business.’ His dark gaze held hers and there was no fear in it at all, only an honesty that wound around her heart and didn’t let go. ‘I’m not worth it, believe me.’
How curious. He made it sound as if her soul was actually worth something.
She should have shot him right then and there, but instead she found her hand lowering, exactly as he’d told her to.
He didn’t glance at the gun, his dark eyes steady on her instead.
The weapon was heavy in her hand and she didn’t understand why she hadn’t pulled that trigger when she’d had the chance. Because now that chance had gone. The moment when she could have fired was lost.
You failed.
Shame rushed through her like the tide. How had he done it? How had he got under her guard? And, more importantly, why had she let him?
She’d worked hard ever since Matteo’s death to excise all the soft, weak emotions inside her, the ones her parents had despised, and there shouldn’t have been any room at all for mercy. But it seemed as if there was some small part of her that was still weak. Still flawed.
Anger glowed in her gut, hot and bright, overwhelming the shame, and before she realised what she was doing she’d put the gun on the bedside table and was bending down over him, putting one hand on the pillow on either side of his head. His hair was inky black on the pillows, his eyes almost the same colour as they stared challengingly back at her.
He smelled so good, the heat rising off him making her want to get close, to warm herself against him.
‘What is it, kitten?’ Dante murmured, staring straight up at her, gold glinting deep in the darkness of his gaze. ‘Is it time to show me your claws?’
Again, there wasn’t an ounce of fear or doubt in him, just as there hadn’t been right from the start. He’d seen through her. He’d seen through her completely.
Her anger flared hotter, a bonfire of rage. How dared he find that weakness inside her? How dared he exploit it? And what was wrong with her that she had allowed him to do it?
Her perfectly executed plan was now in ruins and all because she hadn’t had the guts to do what needed to be done.
Because, somehow, she’d let this man undermine her.
Well, if he wanted to see her claws, then she’d show them to him. And she knew exactly what to do to in order to cause maximum damage.
Her experience with men was non-existent, but she’d studied Dante Cardinali and she’d studied him well. Including what she could find on his sexual predilections. He was a man who liked being in control and who always, always, got what he wanted.
And it was clear that he wanted her.
Which gave her the perfect leverage over him.
‘Not my claws,’ Stella murmured, staring right back into his eyes. ‘You can feel my teeth instead.’
Then she lowered her head and bit him.
THE LOVELY WOMAN who was probably Stella Montefiore, but definitely wasn’t Carlotta, closed her teeth delicately around Dante’s lower lip and every nerve-ending he had lit up with sweet, delicious pain.
He was hard instantly, his whole body tight, his wrists and ankles instinctively pulling against the cuffs with the urge to grab her, hold her.
He hadn’t been expecting this particular move, though really the glittering flare of anger he’d seen in her eyes just before she’d bent her head should have warned him.
She wasn’t as cool as she seemed, which was a delightful surprise.
In fact, the whole of her bending over him with that rich heady scent, her silky golden hair falling over one shoulder, her pale skin glowing against the fluid fabric of her blue dress, was a delightful surprise.
He’d been hoping for some fight and he’d certainly got it.
If
