Page 29 of Violent Delights

I nod because I believe it. Like I haven’t spent the last five hours reliving every second of Lia’s hands on me and mine exploring her like a map of lands I’d like to conquer. Like I didn’t taste rebellion on her lips and decide I’d rather burn than pretend I didn’t want her.

But I school my expression into a mask of indifference, and eventually, he seems to buy it.

He leans against the back of the couch now, glancing around the room like he’s half-bored.

“You ever think about why you’re really here?” he asks, tone shifting just enough to make me stiffen.

“I’m here to protect the Boss’s family,” I say evenly. When I got the job, I knew I had to play the role perfectly. I know what it entails, so it’s easy… to an extent.

Marco shakes his head. “Not all of us, but I mean,you. A random guy from New York. No connections. No last name that matters. Just shows up one day and gets put on the fiancée’s detail? That’s not luck,mio amico. That’s something else.”

I hold his gaze. “You think I’m a spy?” My voice is solid steel. There is no quiver, no fear, nothing. Just my natural calm tone.

He watches me for a moment, and I wait for him to call me out, but then he says, “I think everyone’s something else until they prove otherwise.”

A long, yet heavy pause stretches between us. I let it settle, slow and heavy. Then I give him the smallest, most dangerous smile I can manage. “Then I guess I better prove myself.”

He watches me a beat longer, then nods. “We’ll see,mio amico.”

With that, he finishes his drink, sets the glass down on the table with a deliberateclink, and walks back toward the door. There are no more words that need to be said. He’s got the answers he needed, or was sent to find.

He doesn’t look back when he leaves.

I wait until I hear his boots vanish down the hall before I let myself breathe again.

My hand is still on my knee, clenched into a fist. My pulse is loud in my ears.

That was too close.

But I meant what I said.

I’ll prove myself. One way or another. I have to keep her safe, and she’s the only thing I care about.

An hour passes.Then two.

The house is quiet as if it’s fallen into darkness. There’s a cloud surrounding the compound, one that follows most of the organizations. It’s as if there are no longer reasons to be awake and alert. Silence eases into its nighttime rhythm—shifting guards, fading voices, the muted clink of wine glasses and distant music from someone’s open door.

I stay in the living room long after I should’ve gone back to my quarters.

I know if I move, I’ll go to her and that could put us both in danger. I never want to do that, but there are so many thoughts racing through my head as I think about what she’s doing. I know she’s alone. Ignacio may be marrying her, but he has no interest in her. I know this because the bastard is far too old for the sweet, innocent rose.

There’s no doubt if I go to her again, I won’t be able to stop.

But the living room door creaks open anyway.

Soft, deliberate.

My heart kicks before I even turn.

She’s barefoot. Wearing a silk robe I’ve never seen before—midnight blue, just barely tied at the waist.

Her hair is still damp like she’s just stepped out of the shower, and her eyes are locked on mine with a quiet kind of defiance.

“I thought you were going to say good night,” she says in that angelic tone that causes the devil on my shoulder to awaken.

I stay seated. “I should have never come to your room earlier. We have to be careful.”

She lifts a brow. “Clearly.”

---