Page 59 of Kept

“Getting protective of your whores now, De Luca?” LeBlanc sneered.

I cracked the pistol across his nose, and the satisfying crunch inclined me to believe it was now very broken.

Spitting blood, he cursed, “Fuck you, De Luca. Your days in la Cosa Nostra are fucking numbered!” He started to stumble away, before running towards the elevators.

Fucking little bitch.

Now, with Sarah in my arms in the car, she alternates between long silences while snuggling against my chest like she’s trying to burrow inside, and shaking like a leaf.

Aldo sets a new speed record getting back to the house. I carry Sarah to our room and set her on the edge of the bed. She stares up at me with big, blue-grey eyes. I feel her gaze on me as I remove my jacket. I see her swallow nervously as I discard my tie. I see her breath catch when I roll my sleeves up.

I walk back to the door and lock it. “We need to have a talk, kitten.”

CHAPTER 31

Sarah

His eyes are deep, dark pools, and his sculpted jaw is set.

“Talk about what?” I hear my voice creak as I say it. I can feel the energy radiating off of him, a live current dancing over my skin. It’s like standing on the edge of a cliff and looking down.

“You sent Leo away.” He walks slowly towards me. “You were aware that he was ordered to accompany you, and you told him to wait outside. For that matter, you were aware that there was a high probability that you would be in the same place as a man who has threatened you before, and not only did you withhold that information, you dismissed your escort.”

“Vincent, I?—”

“That he listened is an issue I’ll address with him, directly. But you are aware of the current threats to me, and those around me.” I feel his eyes lock with mine. “To those I care about.”

I feel the edge of the cliff starting to crumble.

“You disregarded your own safety. You put yourself in danger.” He prowls back to me, standing over me so I’m craning to look up at his superior height.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him.

He runs a finger along my lower lip. “I accept your apology. But this is a dangerous world, kitten. This disregard for your safety, for the ways I try to protect you, will not be tolerated.”

We stay like that for a minute, just existing in each other’s space. He takes me by the hands and pulls me to my feet. Reaching behind me, he tugs down the zipper of my gown. He takes a single step back.

“Remove your clothes.”

“What?” I blurt.

“Take. Off. Your. Clothes,” he rephrases, emphasizing each word.

Slowly, under his watchful eyes, I let the smooth satin fall from my body to pool around my ankles. I step out of the puddle of fabric and carefully remove my shoes. He continues to watch me, and I feel his intense eyes boring down on me as I slowly bare myself before him. I pop the clasp on my bra, and it falls to the floor. My panties are the last to go as I shimmy them off my hips and drop them onto the pile of discarded clothing next to me.

He points to the closet. “In the back right hand side are the belts. Go pick one.”

What? Belts?

He raises an eyebrow at me. “Sarah.”

So much hangs on those two syllables. A threat. A promise. All in one single word.

I walk to the closet. Inside, I see the familiar neat rows of suits and dress shirts, polished oxfords lined up against one wall, the opposing one now occupied by my wardrobe. And in the back, next to the mysterious safe that is probably filled with dangerous tools for his dangerous world, is a small rack of leather belts. Some black, some brown. Thinner dress belts and thicker working belts. Smooth belts and basket weave belts. I run my fingers over them. The newer ones are shiny and stiff, the older ones softer, with creases worn where the buckle rubs.

My heart is pounding. I can’t do this. I won’t. I start to turn around to run from the closet.

“Sarah.”

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