Page 52 of Her Dark Salvation

“Yes. Ms. Barone. Mr. DeVita asked us to reserve the low-steam room for him this afternoon. If he’s not in the main baths, he’s likely there. Go past the full-length pool, but before you enter the hallway to the private men’s and women’s areas, you’ll find the low-steam room on the left.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

I pushed through the second set of copper doors behind the front desk and stepped into the main baths.

An Olympic-sized pool occupied the center of a cavernous chamber surrounded by smaller pools, misters, tiled walkways, and a bar. A man in a speedo stroked lazily through its crystal waters under ivy that had ventured beyond its trellises to conquer the vaulted ceiling. Between the legs of foliage dripping from stone beams, chandeliers cast light across the rippling water, making it dance with reflection.

The attendant standing behind the bar handed a woman in a thong bikini and heeled sandals a glass of sparkling water. She carried her drink to a square plunge pool along the wall. “MINERAL” was carved into the stone in the same Romanesque lettering used on the front entrance. She kicked off her sandals, held her drink aloft, and descended into the bath, slowly sinking until she sat and rested her head against the lip of the pool. Her glass, beaded with condensation, dangled in her fingers above the water.

On the opposite side of the pool, stone benches protruded from the wall like organic growths, one of them occupied by two older men with noticeable paunches and receding hairlines. One of the men reached behind him and turned a copper knob. A gentle mist sprayed the area where they sat and rustled the foliage.

Mr. DeVita was nowhere in sight.

At the far end of the main room, another set of copper doors mirrored the set behind me. Right before the doors and past the smaller baths, “SAUNA” was carved into the stone over a glass door opaque with condensation.

I walked the length of the pool, kicking myself for having never ventured down there before. The peaceful ambiance was soothing, and I wanted to stay and soak in the tranquility. But I was on a mission.

Sure enough, a Reserved placard hung from a suction cup stuck to the glass.

The door opened with a whoosh, and I stepped into the warm, hazy space. The low-steam sauna wasn’t overly cloying with heat and humidity like a regular sauna. The air was thick, and condensation trailed down the tiled walls, but the room was set to a temperature you could tolerate for more than ten minutes, and visibility wasn’t completely obscured by a wall of steam. Dim, orange lights reflected off a plunge pool set in the center of the space, its refreshing waters empty and waiting.

Against the opposite wall, Marco DeVita gripped the edge of a stone bench on either side of his knees. His head rested back on the tile, unmoving, but his dark, hooded eyes followed me like a predator tracking its prey.

The click of my heels ricocheted off the walls, a steady beat over the rapid pounding of my pulse. It quickened the closer I came to the full extent of his dominating presence, so primitive and exposed.

The wave of his hair, damp with humidity, was more pronounced, curls glistening and falling out of their ordered places. He was naked aside from the white towel wrapped around his waist, and sweat followed the curve of his muscled arms to where his hands gripped the edge of the bench. Neatly trimmed salt and pepper hair covered his broad chest. It trailed down an abdomen thick with muscle before disappearing beneath the towel. The tattoo I’d seen on his forearm was on full display, the “track” revealing itself to be scales on the tail end of a snake. The serpent coiled itself around his forearm and bicep, slinking up his arm until it rested its diamond-shaped head on the bulge of his shoulder.

My mouth went dry despite the humidity, and I licked my lips. Sexual energy poured from his hungry eyes like the droplets of moisture sliding down the hard planes of his body. The heat of the sauna and the heat in his eyes combined to form a tidal wave of lust that crashed into me. But I was there for a reason that had nothing to do with the urgency developing between my legs, and I stopped a few feet short of the bench, not daring to venture any closer to temptation.

“You—you wanted me to notify you as soon as the waiver came through.”

He lifted his head off the tile and stood. The towel wrapped around his hips only covered half of his thick thighs and exposed an indecent amount of his lower abs. He prowled toward me, and his muscles rippled under a thin sheen of sweat.

Jesus. I swallowed, trying in vain to slow my breathing as the alpha sex god eyed me like he was ready to feast.

“You didn’t answer your phone,” I mumbled.

He stopped close enough for me to see the muscles of his shoulders flex beneath his smooth, glistening skin. He held me transfixed, taking control of my body by the sheer force of his regard. I clasped my hands in front of me as if they clutched a life preserver in the sea of his dark intentions, but damn if I didn’t want to drown.

“And?” he prompted with gravelly demand.

“The waiver’s been approved. The commissioner attached a digital copy to the email, but you’ll need the original to submit the paperwork. City hall is closed, so I can’t file the permits, but you can alert the seller you’re ready to purchase and provide them with the escrow.”

A smile crept across his face, victorious and predatory, a wicked celebration of his illicit checkmate.

The devious bend to his mouth. The rough stubble across his jaw. The angle of his Roman nose, as sharp and defined as the muscled length of his body. Desire seized me, and rational thought fled.

His dangerous smile transformed into a sly, knowing grin, and his eyes gleamed with arrogance.

He closed the distance between us. His skin radiated warmth, and the heat it caused in my body made me dizzy. My lips parted, desperate for air.

He dragged his fingertips across my sweaty forehead and into my hair, moving the loose strands away from my face before wrapping his fingers around the back of my neck. He tilted his head and watched a bead of sweat slide down my cheek. It tickled my skin as it trailed downward. He swiped it away with a brush of his thumb and lowered his mouth to my ear.

“You should go now, Anna. You’re getting wet.”

Urgency surged between my legs and blood rushed my face. He knew how ready I was, how much he turned me on, and it only amplified the aching need of my desire.

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