Page 8 of Hostile Secret
I reckon if Matheus had challenged me in the same way, I would have orgasmed on the spot. Giovanni isn’t the reason I’m flustered and needy. I’m just a lost teenager who doesn’t know what the future holds.
I groan from the weight of my pale blue duffle bag as I drag it from the bedroom, and then bump it down the wooden stairs. Much to my annoyance, the zipper refuses to fully close. Not knowing what I'd face in Giovanni’s lair, I had packed everything I could think of.
Every thud of it echoes throughout the space, announcing my descent. I’m heaving the ridiculously heavy bag through the expansive lounge, toward the open patio doors, when my skin prickles all over again.
Even though Giovanni’s footfall is undetectable, I can sense him nearby, a hair-raising awareness. I’d like to think it’s my danger sense. Though when he prowls into sight, his presence fills the air like an electrical vein of lightning in a starless sky—striking and powerful.
Without uttering a single word, he stalks towards me and roughly wraps his hand around my own on the handles. I flinch when his skin settles on mine.
His fresh masculine scent washes over me in a flood, a mix of summer raindrops heated by glorious sunshine. I shiver when sparks explode in my core.
It would be foolish to romanticize this weird intensity between us––as if he’s capable of offering me anything more than a roof over my head.
He’s not a man who promises anything and I’m more than a decade younger.
As he moves, his mountainous height eclipses the sunlight streaming into the lounge. His presence darkens the mood and energizes the atmosphere. It thickens the quality of it, richer from the undercurrent of something primal in his voice.
“I’ll take it,” he says in a low rumble.
I stare up at him, muscles tight so as not to give away how I’m reacting to his close proximity on a cellular level. The tempo of my silly heart rate picks up its pace, my giddy pulse visibly thrumming in my throat.
I keep my eyes on him without speaking. It’s just me and him in this villa fit for royalty. The housekeeper won’t arrive until after we’ve left, and the chef reassigned to another Souza household.
There’s no point trying to run from him. The soldiers manning the shores are loyal to the Souzas and the only way off this island is via the jet waiting for us on the runway.
Finally clearing my throat, I yank the handles. “I’ve got this. I can manage it myself.”
A single shadow passes over his features, the color of his gaze darkening as if I’ve pushed a button he never knew existed. Those jade-colored eyes narrow, turning liquid green and intense. “Okay then… show me… lift it.” He orders and lets go.
Asshole.
Out of hot-headed anger, I brace my feet wide at either side of the bag, squat a little, and start to heave. I have muscles of my own and a whole lot of stamina. Despite my stubbornness, the bag barely budges, rising only a few centimeters off the ground. Not even high enough to throw it over my shoulder.
Nonetheless, I shuffle in a semi-circle like a crab and continue to trail the dead weight, reversing to the exit.
“I don't need to lift it when dragging does the job.” I offer him a saccharine sweet smile.
A thick grunt rolls from deep within his chest. It shouldn’t shower my flesh with goosebumps, but it does.
“Either the bag goes over my shoulder, or you do.” Broad shoulders pull back, so his posture becomes that bit more threatening. “Your childishness is testing my patience.”
I let go of the bag to shelve my hands on my hips. “Is this how it's going to be between us, Gio? With you acting all aloof and mean. Why can’t I stay with Mat? He’s fun––andhe’s hot.”
He takes a second to burn his eyes into mine. The haunting expression he wears flickers as if he’s imagining the most elaborate way to kill me. I shiver, unsure if I’ve pushed him too far.
Whatever thoughts he’s playing with, he doesn’t share them with me. Instead, he slowly thumbs his lower lip, the sweeping back-and-forth movement terrifyingly marked with dark intentions.
It stupidly hypnotizes me until he steps closer and secures my jaw in a lightning snap, the tips of his fingers hollowing my cheeks.
“You haven't seen my mean side yet, niñita. And for reasons out of our control,I’mthe Souza tasked with minding you. So, when you’re in my home, you’ll do exactly what I say. Be a good girl, and I might treat you to an ice cream at the park.”
I glare at his unshaven face, cursing myself for being so captivated by his beautiful eyes staring back at me.
“Don’t mock me, Gio. We aren’t in your home now. And look at where being a good girl has gotten me––I’m shackled toyou.”
As he stands here, dominating my personal space, I remind myself of his role in the cartel. He’s a professional sniper who obliterates lives in a heartbeat. He could pop a cap in my skull and leave me for dead without a shred of remorse.
I’d heard André boast about his brother's talents and how their father had carved him into the soulless man he is today. Regardless of his flinty persona, he’s loyal to his family and that's the only reason he’s here with me—a favor for his brother.
