Page 59 of The Assassin's Captive
I settle back against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. Soon, we'll have to return to the world, to face Emilio and the future he's planning for us both. But for now, we have this—the quiet space between one breath and the next, the warmth of skin against skin, the weight of promises that might destroy us both.
I don't know how to be useful to a man like Costa except to do as he says and hope it's enough. And I just pray he doesn't ask me to cross the same lines he has Lorenzo crossing. I can look the other way when a crime is committed, but I can't commit them myself.
26
LORENZO
Ilet Serena climb off my lap, her skin still flushed from our joining, eyes heavy with satisfaction and exhaustion. She moves with careful grace, legs unsteady as she finds her balance. The sight of her—rumpled and marked by my hands—sends a fresh wave of possession through me that I force myself to ignore.
"Lie in bed and wait for me," I tell her in a gruff voice. She nods, too spent to question the command, and settles back onto the sheets she lay curled in earlier. The curve of her spine catches the dim light filtering through the curtains, and I have to turn away before the temptation to rejoin her overwhelms my discipline.
The bathroom door closes behind me, sealing me away from her warmth. The tiles feel cold beneath my bare feet as a sharp contrast to the heat we generated moments ago. I relieve my bladder quickly, the mundane necessity grounding me in physical reality after the emotional storm that preceded our coupling.
The mirror above the sink reflects a man I barely recognize. My hair stands at odd angles from where her fingers rakedthrough it. Scratches mark my shoulders—evidence of her nails digging deep when I brought her to the edge. My lips look swollen from kissing her, and there's a darkness in my eyes that speaks of lines crossed, boundaries obliterated.
I turn on the faucet, cupping cold water in my palms to splash across my face. The shock of it clears some of the haze from my thoughts, brings back the sharp focus I need for any threats that might crop up. The soap smells sterile compared to the lingering scents of sex and Serena's perfume that cling to my skin.
I wash methodically—face, neck, chest, everywhere she touched me with reverent hands. The evidence of our union swirls down the drain, but the memory of her body beneath mine, her gasps against my ear, the way she arched when I?—
Focus.
I dry myself with the hotel's thick towel, rough terry cloth abrading skin still sensitive from her caresses. My reflection looks more familiar now, the mask of control sliding back into place. But something fundamental has shifted. The man who entered this bathroom was one person. The one who stands here now is someone else entirely.
My phone sits on the counter where I left it hours ago, screen dark and silent. Three missed calls from numbers I don't recognize, two text messages that can wait until morning. But the call I need to make won't wait. Emilio expects regular updates, especially now that the situation has evolved beyond our original parameters.
I dial the number from memory, digits I've pressed countless times over the years. It rings once before his voice fills the small space.
"Lorenzo."
"Don Emilio." The formal address comes automatically, years of conditioning overriding the intimacy of the past few hours. "I have an update."
"Go ahead."
I lean against the counter, organizing my thoughts into the clinical report he expects. "The woman has agreed to cooperate. She understands her position and what's required of her."
"Elaborate."
The word carries weight, expectation. Emilio wants details, wants to understand exactly how I achieved compliance from someone who spent weeks resisting every attempt at persuasion. How do I explain that she surrendered not to threats or violence, but to promises of protection? That her cooperation comes with conditions that challenge everything he believes about power and control?
"She was reluctant at first," I begin, choosing each word carefully. "Concerned about what usefulness means in our world. I explained the alternatives—other families who would show less restraint in extracting information or ensuring loyalty."
"And?"
"She recognizes that association with the DPP makes her a target regardless of her choices. Every organization in Rome has reason to want her, either as an asset or eliminated as a threat. She's accepted that her safest option is cooperation."
"What kind of cooperation?"
The question I've been dreading. How do I tell him that her compliance comes with strings attached? That she's negotiated terms that give her power over me, that make me responsible for her wellbeing in ways that compromise my effectiveness?
"She'll provide legal counsel, insider knowledge of prosecutorial techniques, intelligence on ongoing investigations. Her expertise makes her valuable for anticipating andcountering law enforcement strategies." Serena said none of this, but leaving it up to Emilio's interpretation will put her at a disadvantage. Right now, I’m controlling the narrative and that's a good thing.
"Good. When can you bring her to me?"
My grip tightens on the phone. "There are complications."
Silence crackles on the line, loaded with disapproval. Emilio doesn't appreciate complications, especially not from men who are supposed to solve problems rather than create them.
"Explain."
