Page 7 of Hostile Secret
Possessiveness charges through me, making me unusually antsy. Souza guards aren’t allowed anywhere near her, never mind sharing a confined space. Fuck that idea.
My natural instinct to punish kicks in. I can’t help it, nor do I care to tame it.
Without hesitation, I reach behind my lower back and free my favorite suppressed firearm, taking aim at the obedient furry companion standing beside her.
She freezes, her eyes popping wide as my typical cold-blooded persona turns the air around us glacial.
“We’re done with small talk.” I bite out when she gasps. “If you want to be treated like an adult, then act like one. André agreed to let you finish your senior year at school rather than be homeschooled. Which means you’re enrolled in a new school elsewhere and living with me until he’s ready for you to join him. Do as you’re told, or I’ll shoot the dog. I’d rather not have it in my house anyway… so keep pushing me on this and I’ll––”
Our eyes lock in a heated standoff. Panic lifts her head with every quick inhalation. Quick reflexes have her hunkering down at Daenis’ eye level to hug her close.
“What the hell, Gio? You’d kill a puppy… she’s the only thing I have left. What sort of monster are you?”
“I’m the sort of monster who hates his life being disrupted by inconveniences. I’d happily send you back to Miami, but Dré made me promise to look after you––mainly because I’m the only one he trusts to efficiently protect the people in our inner circle. So, I’ll ask you one more time to get your shit together and board the jet. Or I’ll hog-tie you, dressed as you are in that mind fuck of a bikini, and haul you on the plane myself––without your belongings or the fucking dog.”
3
INDIA
I hate Giovanni Souza.
Not only did he threaten to break my heart all over again by shooting Daenis, but the asshole had announced, without a single care for my mental health, that I have to change schools. To forget about my friends and the life I’d established in Miami.
Haven’t I suffered enough?
Perhaps I shouldn't have tackled him to the ground, especially when he had the advantage—a loaded gun. And yes, I was practically naked, but he was being an asshole.
To make the whole situation worse, his mastery had forced me to surrender. For me, a purple belt in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, that was a harsh slap to the face. I’m a regular tournament winner, albeit against opponents my own age. Not trained hitmen who get boners when they wrestle.
Boy, was it hard. Solid, thick, and straining to escape. The awareness of it gave me butterflies. I did that tohim, the emotionless god of the criminal underworld. His closed off persona scares me. But today, it’s not the terrifying kind of fear. It’s a thrilling edge to him that seems to turn me on.
In the seconds after he'd threatened to kill my dog, I had rushed to my bedroom with Daenis in hot pursuit, where I quickly changed into a short ditsy skirt and tucked a clean t-shirt into the elasticized waistband. I spritzed my hair with a delicate blend of lavender and peppermint, making me smell like a sugary candy cane.
With my Bluetooth headphones around my neck and cell phone clenched tightly in one hand, I peered out the window. I stupidly search for Giovanni, feeling Daenis’ hot breath on my leg as.
Of course, I couldn't find him.
He’s the elusive Souza brother I know the least about.
My fingers tremble as I pick out a pair of tan colored sandals, my veins running hot from a powerful concoction of confusion and frustration.
I’ve always been a good girl, because that's what was asked of me. But in the empty days after Reno was killed, a torrent of anger-fueled emotions had twisted me up inside. Even now I can’t stop them from spiraling out of control and weirdly something else is weaving through me––a rush of dirty, hot lust.
Is this what happens when your soul is crushed––your mind and body are reprogrammed for destruction? Because craving Giovanni is like asking death to join me for lunch. Having a crush on the guy would cast my world into darkness.
I'm not really sure why my emotions are so muddled––how wrestling with him had sent shockwaves right through me. Maybe it was the trickery of his cologne invading my senses that awoke all sorts of illicit feelings.
Or the fact I could feel his heart thumping against my chest, my own matching its rapid beat. His effortless brawn had clamped me against him, the connection intoxicatingly close, especially when his dick stabbed my inner thigh.
The longer Giovanni had pinned me down, the more I lost myself in a freaky, dark desire. I’d never experienced anything like it before and am not sure I want to again.
It seemed to radiate throughout my body, electrifying the sorrow and switching it to rebellious curiosity.
However, knowing he could see my skin flame––and how a ghost of a smirk had played on his beautiful lips made me even angrier.
Fucker.
I’m not into Giovanni. That reaction to him was nothing more than a chemical brain blip. I’ve been hidden away on Sin Island without proper physical contact with another human for weeks. No wonder his dominant touch lit a match and set me on fire.
