Page 29 of Hostile Secret
9
INDIA
Last night I’d gone to sleep unsatisfied, confused, and alone.
The alarm clock on the nightstand had woken me up. I’d momentarily thought I was back in Miami and in my own bed when Daenis nudged her wet nose into my hand.
How she’d ended up on my queen size bed is a mystery. Nevertheless, I was grateful to have her next to me again.
After we had cuddled for a few minutes, I padded into the adjoining bathroom for the first time. It took me a few seconds to blink in the skinny, floor to ceiling windows and pointed arches sandwiched within slate gray stone walls.
A polished claw-foot tub sat next to a dark green velvet armchair and a brass shower head protruded from the far wall.
Natural morning light reflected in a gilded wall mirror and groups of potted plants took up the corners of a mosaic tiled floor.
In the interest of saving time, I’d showered rather than keep Giovanni waiting. I might tease him, but I do appreciate how he’s taken me into his home, even though it's a weird set up.
Afterwards, I blow dried my hair using what looked like a brand-new hair dryer hooked next to the marble vanity, coated my lashes in mascara, and picked out a transparent Ice Bomb Fenty lip gloss from my makeup bag.
While I dressed in the school uniform that had magically appeared on a hanger in my suite this morning, my mind drifted to the heated encounter we’d shared in the middle of the night. Those lips of his would be my undoing.
Seconds before I’d ventured out of my room to join him downstairs, a familiar rumble from outside the lead windows had caught my attention.
The stubborn steel window opener was a challenge to work with, however, my perseverance paid off and warm sea air flooded in around me.
I couldn't see where the sound had come from, but I’m certain the thwapping of blades was a helicopter.
For a split second, my heart had pounded, thinking Giovanni had left me all alone in this spooky house, and then I’d taken a deep breath to slow my thoughts.
I’m not dependent on him. If he did leave me here, I’d climb over the gargantuan iron gates at the end of the driveway and make my way into the city for a shopping trip. It wouldn't be a problem.
I know I’m playing with fire by provoking the guy. However, he’s a tough gangster who could surely handle the advances of alittle girl.Niñita my ass.
And deep down inside, I’m not entirely sure I’m ready for the level of sexual experience a man like him possesses.
Despite myself sitting across the breakfast table from him now, the thought of that kiss sizzles through me. I couldn’t help the way my body had reacted when those eyes of his silently undressed me or when his mouth had utterly devoured me.
Nor could I control the flood of emotions when I’d heard that woman on the phone. How her feminine voice had stung me in such a way that I could only assume it was jealousy.
I blame the sexy, villainous scar on his cheekbone. Could that be the reason I’m attracted to him?
There’s no other feasible explanation, because he certainly isn’t a chivalrous knight who claims charm as his best quality.
Then again, who wants a dull man with no sense of adventure? Throughout my teenage years, the guys had told me loads of gruesome stories that would make any teenage girl have nightmares for centuries. To me, their antics had become normal. That’s what I expect to hear and think nothing of it anymore.
Those truths hadn’t bothered me––until the last horrifying story turned out to be reality––my brother getting caught in a hotel bombing.
The traumatic memory twists my gut. I sit forward and sip chilled orange juice from a glass to bring my attention back to the breakfast room.
“Unfortunately, I’m stuck with you for the foreseeable future.” I tell him, chewing a piece of freshly baked pastry to distract myself from the crack in my heart.
I glare at him from the far end of this table that could comfortably seat an army, sitting parallel to a decades old stone fireplace. He teases the scruff on his clenched jaw, patiently waiting to hear how the rest of my conversation with André had unfolded.
“André is flying to Italy and needs time to secure Sinéad as the head of the Sapori empire. It could take months for things to settle. Anyway, those two deserve to spend some time together alone without me getting in the way.”
Rays of sunlight stream in through the extensive windows, the beams catching specks of swirling dust and dazzling the quad cast-iron chandeliers hanging overhead.
It’s oppressive yet regal at the same time—a conundrum just like him. I start to wonder how he survives loneliness in the remoteness that is Blackwater Manor.
