"Will do, boss."
I waited until he'd walked away before entering the room, giving her nothing more than a glance. I could tell she was studying me intently, although she pretended as if she was simply watching whatever was on the television. However, there was a newspaper folded by her curled legs, positioned in a manner to highlight the headline. I wasn't entirely certain I was happy about that fact. Moving toward the chair opposite her, I pulled off my jacket, taking my time positioning it over the back of the couch. When I turned around, I raked my fingers through my hair.
Another purposeful gesture.
Francesca's eyes locked on the holster, a slight quiver on her bottom lip. In her hand was a glass, the remnants of the amber liquid indicating bourbon, or maybe scotch.
As I sat down on the edge of the seat, I folded my hands, remaining quiet. I'd left her with another pair of shorts and a tee shirt and nothing else, making it difficult for any attempt at running, although I would put nothing past her.
She seemed uncomfortable, pulling her legs further under her and shifting her gaze back toward the television. I turned my attention to the paper, bristling as I read the bold writing. The headlines were as damning as what had been relayed to me.
Kelan Rock, Movie Star or Mafia Don?
I'd never allowed my anger to get the best of me, but given all the circumstances, I was on edge, my skin clammy, rage tickling every nerve. I could almost hear her teeth chattering from where I sat. She believed me to be a true monster. I was beginning to agree with her.
"At least you weren't lying to me," she half whispered.
"About?" I rested my elbows on my knees, touching my open fingers together.
"Your identity."
"I will be as honest with you as I can, Francesca." Then I realized what she was watching and sighed. One of my fucking movies. I glanced toward the screen, studying the way the redheaded actress clung to me, her pouty lips exactly the kind of sex appeal that had sold the action adventure. I couldn't help but cringe and snagged the remote. "That man is dead."
"You were wonderful in the movie. Very sexy. I bought you were the great hero." A short laugh pushed past her lips. She was even more uncomfortable.
I turned off the show, tossing the plastic unit onto the table, disgusted with myself. "He was fake, nothing more."
"And what are you now? The real man? A real killer?" She polished off her drink with added drama, no doubt goading me.
I resisted giving a snide comment. "Kelan was someone I couldn't handle. Blood is thicker than champagne."
She twisted her mouth, her eyes glistening over.
The tension was thick, my heart beating rapidly. I didn't like this shit any more than she did.
She leaned as far back against the sofa cushion as possible, chewing on her bottom lip. "I'm curious. You're obviously a smart man with the world at your feet. Why are you doing this? I thought it was all about revenge, but I'm guessing there's more."
"I meant what I said yesterday. Taking down the Saltoris. Revenge is all I'm thinking about. Protecting business."
"Ah, yes, the lure of greed. Because of your father?"
"Yes. I also have other reasons, Francesca. You certainly have no reason to talk."
She didn't seem surprised by the nastiness in my tone. I could almost see the wheels of her mind churning. "I'm sorry about your father. How is his condition?"
"He's still alive. For now."
"You were close?"
I chuckled, ready for a stiff drink and a long, hot shower. "Not even remotely."
"Then why are you taking this on? You can let your father's henchmen handle the situation."
"Don't pretend you don't understand the way of the Borgata. The men need strong leadership, just like in Italy. The entire organization would crumble without a leader."
"And you're that man." She seemed amused. "What a shame. You already have a fabulous career. Or was that a spectacular cover?"
"I rarely pretend to be anything I'm not and had would be the obvious word. I'd be lucky to get a job on the Home Shopping Network given the newspaper article that I am certain you read." After grabbing her glass, I moved toward the bar, unsnapping the holster and laying the gun on the surface before making us both a drink.
"The article wasn't that bad, although there was no mention of the fact you're a kidnapper. Yet. I guess that means you're truly a common criminal now."
I poured the bourbon, guessing at her selection. This wasn't a social call by any means. "If you're trying to push me into disciplining you, it's working."
"That will never happen again." Her laughter was dramatic, another attempt at yanking my chain.
"You seem to forget that I own you now."
Her glare was hard, cold and cutting. "Over my dead body."
The sparring made my cock hard. "I thought we were having a civil conversation." I moved behind her, easing the glass over her shoulder. The second she grabbed the tumbler, our fingers touched. Searing electricity shot through my hand, rushing into my arm. I'd never had this reaction with any other woman. My shaft throbbed, the hunger I felt catching me off guard.
She shuddered visibly, her breath skipping as she attempted to pull the glass to her mouth, but her desires were evident. "We are, and you know I'm not saying anything that's not the truth. You're an asshole criminal killer."
I almost burst into laughter. "The truth. I think that's where we need to begin. Why did your father insist you marry a man like Vincenzo? The money? Were you a bargaining chip for help from the Massimos to take over the US market?"
"Why should I tell you?" she huffed. I could tell by the hint of surprise in her eyes she hadn't thought about being used as a pawn.
"Because we have an agreement, you and I." I remained standing.