Page 30 of Hostile Secret
I cock my head playfully. Even though Giovanni is on the opposite side of this cold room, sitting in a solid dining chair carved for a bloodthirsty warrior, his presence dominates the entire atmosphere.
His fingers quietly drum the table as I speak. Freshly washed hair, so dark and thick, is swept back from his forehead. He mimics my position by tilting his head ever so slightly, the motion disturbing a lock of hair that casually drapes his brow. It doesn't bother him as he fixes an impenetrable gaze in my direction.
Giovanni doesn’t smile or offer any hint of amusement. Instead, he makes a faint grunt under his breath and begins to rotate the family ring he wears.
I swallow a gulp of air. An absurd reaction to his low hum rips through me in waves of adrenaline.
“Which means I’m stuck with you for longer than I’d hoped,” he says eventually.
“Charming,” I retort, dropping what's left of my breakfast to take another drink. “You sure know how to make a girl feel welcome.”
When he stands, the chair legs screech as his muscular legs push it away. “You wouldn’t be alive if you weren’t welcome here. So, do me the courtesy of obeying my rules. Remember what we discussed. Do not tell anyone you’re a Souza and under no circumstances are you allowed to mention Blackwater.”
My brow scrunches and I let out a silly, nervous laugh that angers me. “I’m not a Souza, Gio.”
“You shouldn't argue with me, niñita. When I say you’re a Souza, you should graciously agree.” The gravelly way he pronounces my annoying pet name, with a gritty rasp, is downright spine-tingling. “Reno would have wanted this for you.”
My insides go all mushy and warm. The sensation freaks me out a little too, because it also means the cartel can order me to do anything they see fit and I’d have to obey without question.
This new title of mine could end up being a curse rather than my savior.
“How does that work, exactly?” I blot the corners of my mouth with a napkin and fish out my lip gloss to apply a fresh layer of see-through peppermint yumminess. “Are we officially brother and sister?” I joke to lighten the mood. “Should we make a toast to sibling rivalry?”
His expression strains, a grimace pinching those pillowy lips of his. “You’re Souza property, niñita. That’s all. I also deleted your Instagram profile to make sure no one can trace you.”
“You did what?” I fist the table.
“You heard me. You’re not allowed to post anything on social media. Period. That’s a priority rule you must adhere to.”
The bite of his statement erases every trace of cordiality that might have sparked between us over breakfast.
“How dare you! You had no right to do that, Gio.”
“I think you’ll find I had every right. While you’re living under my roof, your life belongs to me.” He stares right through me as my fury fuses with misplaced lust.
“Belong to you?” I say breathlessly. “Are you kidding? I’m not an object. I had a life before you dragged me here. I had fun and made plans for my future. So tell me this, what does belonging to you mean exactly?”
“It means I can do whatever I deem necessary to achieve your obedience, which in turn ensures your safety.”
A wicked chill whispers through my skeleton. The seat I’m sitting on suddenly feels unbalanced. Despite his quick changing mood, when he crosses his arms over the chest I know to be divinely inked, the glacial atmosphere rises.
My mouth dries, equal parts attraction to uncertainty.
“It also means what I say is fucking gospel. Starting Thornhill Academy near the end of the academic year will attract the attention of every fucker who wants to know your business. Keep details to a minimum and stay under the radar. You have my number in your contact list should you need me.”
I narrow my eyes on him when he stops at the doorway to wait for me. Oh my God, he’s wearing those mind-boggling joggers again that show the outline of his dick. They should be outlawed or vilified in the name of all things unholy.
Rising to stand, I’m no match for his brawny stature, and fail to come even close to his mountainous height. His unwavering stare follows my every step while I take my sweet time to saunter in his direction.
“What would I need you for?” I flutter my lashes at him, plastering a flirty smile on my face. “I am an ace shot and can satisfy myself in the absence of a man. But don’t worry, Giovanni. I’ll be your good little girl for as long as you want me to be. Let’s shake on it.”
The closer I get to him, the smaller I feel. My heart hammers when the power of his large hand wrapping mine causes my insides to combust.
He leans in, bringing his intoxicating scent with him. Coarse whiskers prickle my cheek, and his Spanish accent tingles all over me like a timid orgasm. “For your own sake, you should be averygood girl.”
* * *
It’s been six days since I’d arrived in Giovanni’s sinister manor house, and five whole days of sitting at opposite ends of the immense table while he watches me eat breakfast. He’s yet to eat anything himself, and just sips his usual espresso.
