Chapter 4 004

"Thanks, it's Tessa," I answer glumly. Offended that I would dare to mouth off to him, Noctus takes a step closer. In my double fear, I retreat and collide with Salvatore. Salvatore steps in, using his height and his stern manner to his advantage. Possessively, he drapes his arm around my shoulder. I wince when he touches me. Noctus is much taller than me, yet he is not even close to Salvatore. Shamefully, the gentle heat between my legs throbs. "Is something wrong?" "What?" asks Salvatore. A dare, the gentle query prickles in the air.

Noctus's rage smolders like an ashen pit, and he wears his emotions in his eyes, just like the males in my own family. Finally, as though unable to control himself, he murmurs, "Is that what we do now? Stand up for Loveras, but turn against us? When you were younger, you would have- "If you had questioned me in the past, I would have already had your tongue out of your mouth. And the only thing that keeps it there right now is my love for you," Salvatore breaks in. Embarrassed, Noctus has the courtesy to turn aside. "You will receive twice as much as you intended for Contessa Lovera if you threaten her." In a month, she will be one of our own, so you must be alert. You have a battle to fight, and I have a wedding to organize. My gut lurches. There is a ring of silence in the room. People always believed that criminals fought over drugs and money, according to my father. In actuality, the values of respect, pride, and legacy serve as the lifestyle's genuine money. Making fun of a rival family is one thing. There will be blood. Sometimes in family business, it is unavoidable that people may be killed over unseen lines and corrupt politicians. However, there is no greater insult than removing a don's daughter from her family, erasing her last name, beding her, depriving her of her dignity, and giving her children the enemy's last name and blood. If Salvatore had an entire army at his disposal, he couldn't harm my father as much. The revelation silences Noctus as he stands. He sees something new when he looks at me again: the first live fight being fought on a battlefield. Like a dog retreating from a fight, he avoids eye contact by lowering his head. "Sir, I didn't mean to ask you a question." With a smile that stops short of his eyes, Salvatore remarks, "Well, it would be dangerously stupid if you did." Find Leo and tell the others about it. Ask him to move the automobile around. As his boots' tread wanes along the corridor, Noctus nods. Before I can even think of a way out, Salvatore's hold turns into an iron vice around my arm, and any hope I had is extinguished like an ember once more. Without saying anything, he walks by Lance and pulls me to the door. I continue to wonder if he will be okay. Salvatore is surrounded by neon light outside, which has sharp, dazzling edges and a black silhouette. He is both my captor and my guardian, and I can't take my eyes off of him. The quiet between us irritates me, and my mind races with ideas until I can no longer contain them. Finally, shivering in the 2-A.M. wind and crossing my arms over my nakedness, I remark, "You're just like my father." "With men like you, it's always this dumb balancing act between fear and love." Salvatore laughs. You hardly know your dad at all. Before you engage in combat with a man, you don't know him. "I did," I respond. I fought him in my own manner, even if it wasn't with weapons and goons. I am fully aware of who he is. what you are. Salvatore looks at me intently, as if he can see right through me and into me. As though he could see only the truth and burn away all of my nonsense in those eyes. I turn away first, my stomach knotted hard and my breath stuck in my throat. I add, "He always said you were crazy."

I feel his warm breath ghost against my neck as I hear him laugh. "Brave talk for a little girl who can't even look me in the eye," he says, leaning in and whispering his low words on my ear. He drags his fangs up my neck, sucking irate marks under my ear, and I gasp. Once more, my defenses crumble. "And he was correct." I'd like to distance myself from him, but I can't. He rubs his thumb across his cheek and the scar, saying, "Your father gave me this when I was barely more than a boy, before he bunkered down behind a desk." For challenging him, what did he reward you? A slap? I turn my head away, using my icy silence as leverage. I can't identify any scars that demonstrate the harm my father inflicted on me. They are a faint, white remembrance of the past, but unlike Salvatore's scar, they don't feel worn and old. I still have bleeding wounds from one mistake. We are washed over by headlights. Salvatore forbids me from going barefoot in the parking lot. With ease, he takes me in his arms and carries me like the bride he says I will soon be. As a rule, I despise the princess treatment, but my belly flutters traitorously and without my permission. I can smell his cologne when my nose is close to his neck; it's deep and delicate, with notes of sweet cigars and pricey whiskey. He must have a lot of muscle under that dark suit, and I couldn't help thinking about how easily he can throw me around. I'm itching to take it from him so I can find out. Perhaps I am the crazy one. I've been looking up at him, carelessly and unprotected, my gaze following the thin white scar that accentuates his cheek. Even though my high was long since destroyed by the chaos, I feel inebriated. "Where are we going?" Like I'm a child asking foolish questions, Salvatore ignores me. A dark Rolls-Royce stops in front of us, reflecting every light in its glossy luster. Even though I was raised in a wealthy household and have strapped my car seat in the back of armored Bentleys and Mercedes since I was a baby, this degree of luxury is new to me. For us, the driver opens the door. "You're behind the wheel," Salvatore informs him. The fact that Salvatore typically drives even when he is not required to does not surprise me. He appears like a man who always wants to be in control. He must now dominate me, though, in addition to everything else. Salvatore sprawls me across his lap in the backseat rather than taking the wheel. He seems to be unable to stop touching me or staring at me. I'm trying not to be impressed by his sudden obsession, but he's making it impossible. He looks at me like he's never seen another lady before. Many men have gazed at me and expressed interest in me. I've never had somebody stare at me like that. I can almost pretend that this isn't just a crazy person with a blood vengeance grabbing power if I close my eyes. In a voice accustomed to dispensing commands, he continues, "Don't hide from me." I become aware that my arm is still tightly clamped over my breasts. Refusing to let me cover myself, he pries it away. He treats my body as if he already owned it, rubbing my bare nipple with his thumb only to see it become darker and more rigid. The back of the automobile is filled with my labored breathing. "You don't get any care, do you?" As his hands get tired, he asks in a hushed voice. It's embarrassing that he can figure this out so quickly. Embarrassment flares in my face and slides down my neck. He cannot be aware of my lack of experience. If he finds out, the embarrassment will consume me from the inside out. However, after 23 years of being considered untouchable, his gentlest, most basic touches ignite a fire of need in my body, betraying me. The daughter of the don. A quest too risky to be worthwhile. I was always afraid of the harm I may do to innocent people. Even after I had left my father and his way of life behind, I still worried what would happen if I ever crossed that line because he refused to be in my one and only relationship, no matter how much I taunted and tempted him. The coward. Salvatore, on the other hand, is fearless and touches me anywhere he pleases. When all I want is more, I can't bring myself to urge him to stop. Strangely, I want to tell him to stop being polite so I can take him. I am undoubtedly the crazy one. í. He is somewhat illuminated and partially shadowed by the streetlights that flash over his face. He didn't seem real when I first saw him. Too hazardous and a little too old for me. He has a firm jaw that I imagine hardly ever twitches into a smile, and his temples have a hint of silver. He embodies every terrible quality I've always wanted in a man but have been too embarrassed to acknowledge. I've resented men like him my entire life, refusing to acknowledge how they make me feel. But there is something about Salvatore-I can't deny him. I can't disguise the way I want him, the things I want him to do to me. My body wants him to hold me closer, but my head begs him to let me go. I'm fighting a battle with my own shame. In the darkness, a light flashes up. Sal clenches a cigarette between his teeth and lights one for himself. He gives me one. I protest, "I haven't smoked since I was thirteen." Still, he holds it out. I accept it with a sigh.