Page 57 of I Would Die For You

“You should text them the address now,” she says over her shoulder.

I swallow, hard. The mission. How could I have forgotten that’s our goal tonight? It’s thanks to Valentino our hides are still safe and sound today, plus he’s harboring us—a murderer and one who perverted the course of justice in two cases—at his home. Had he not stepped in with his contact to take care of Daku’s assassin, we’d be in deep shit. The least we owe him is this.

“Right,” I mutter.

After putting myself to rights, I head to the driver’s seat and set us on the road to Short Hills. Valentino has a property there we’ll be using to lure that bitch and hertesta dicazzoof a boyfriend. Kaya and I are portraying a rich young couple with money to burn, so our residence must also support this. And the house doesn’t disappoint. It’s a colonial-style white house with tall pillars in front and expansive French windows and balconies all around. Definitely screams affluent.

I send a text along with a pin to the number that woman gave me in the bar. Valentino will be here, along with a small crew in the self-contained basement, awaiting our signal.

It takes maybe an hour for the couple to arrive. He’s driving a beat up truck with a lift kit that could’ve nabbed him a brand-new vehicle altogether. More pretense than brains. Why doesn’t that surprise me?

“Kaya,” I say softly.

We have to get back in character. It won’t do for them to see us at odds or with ice instead of fire burning between us.

She retreats to a powder room below the stairs. When she emerges, my breath snags in my throat. She’s all in black, the boy shorts hugging her slim hips and baring the lower curve of her ass cheeks. Her breasts are encased in the same lace and silk, the cups pushing the soft mounds up and giving a hint of her dark nipples. The see-through black robe falling from her shoulders simply serves to make her more alluring rather than if she’d been just in the underwear.

As she passes by me, she threads her fingers in my hair and tips my head back with a sharp yank, her lips crashing against mine. The flare of pain along my scalp makes me react just one way—I won’t have that, so I take control. I lunge forward, walking her along until the back of her knees bounce against the massive ottoman in the lavish corner set in this sitting room.

My shirt comes off next as I stare at her prone form in front of me, her chest heaving. My knee finds its way between her legs, my body bracing from this point to lower over her and take her mouth again with mine.

There’s a beep from the front door intercom. The remote is right there on the small corner table, and I press the middle button without tearing myself away from Kaya.

I’m still on my guard even though I am ravaging her breasts and nipping her flat stomach. It takes our guests a moment to reach us. Fuckers must be appraising all the priceless artifacts and décor in the entrance. It’d nab them a pretty penny if they could do away with us and leave with all this loot.

I glance up when I hear footsteps still on the threshold of the room. Definitely the girl from the bar, and the asshole with her is the man responsible for my cousins no longer having a father.

“Took your sweet time,” I intone loudly.

The intercom is also on between this room and the basement—this is the cue for the crew to come up.

The woman is walking toward me now, her hand extended as if to come take the measure of my junk.Dio santo, she isnottouching me! I wrap my hand hard around her wrist before she can make contact. In this short moment, the man has made a beeline for Kaya, who has propped herself up on her elbows to watch him with narrowed eyes he’s probably interpreting as “come hither” given how her hair is all mussed and her lips swollen from my kisses.

“Oh, we’re going to have fun,” the fucker has to gall to say.

I’m just about to roar my outrage when Valentino enters my peripheral vision and one of his men presses a gun to the small of thiscoglione’sback.

“We are,” my cousin says. “You, not so much. Nor you,” he tells the woman.

He’s holding a trench coat over his arm, and he opens it toward Kaya, who gets up and lets him wrap it around her.

“Carlito will take you home,” he’s telling her softly. “Thank you, Kaya. Without you, this wouldn’t have been possible.”

The gentle smile she gives him makes my heart clench. Kaya’s never going to look at me with a smile again. Nor will she let me touch her, or hug her. I won’t feel her arms around me like she’s hugging Val right now. She doesn’t even spare me a glance before exiting the room and subsequently the house.

“Get a grip,” Val hisses at me.

He’s right. We have important matters to deal with. I find my shirt and pull it back on. It makes me itch. The lack of collar on this garment makes it look like sleepwear, and I’m never caught in sleepwear even when I’m sleeping. A man’s got to have some standards, no?

Marco, Val’s best friend—who I’m pretty sure will be his left-hand man, as the right-hand position of hisconsigliere, his trusted advisor, has already been assigned to Antonio Bravi, his father’s best friend—comes up and injects the couple with a dose of benzos I formulated. Should keep them unconscious for long enough to get to the area surrounding Newark, which is Valentino’s territory.

A handful of men bundle the couple in tarp and cart them away. I follow Valentino to an SUV driven by Marco and slide in the back seat with him.

Val waits until we’re on the road to speak.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?”

“Fuck,” I mutter. “You just had to go all Victorian on me, did you?”

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