Page 55 of Hostile Love
“What the fuck!” I mumble, wrestling against the weight of him on top of me.
In a blur, my arms are pinned behind my lower back and my wrists cuffed. Gloved hands pat me down, checking for concealed weapons.
Content I'm unarmed, he hauls me into the air. My snarls are ignored as he overpowers me.
Except I won’t go down without a fight, so I tip sideways, energetically flick my leg out and kick him in the thigh, doing whatever I can to unbalance the man.
Of course it doesn't work. I don't even think stabbing this monster in the heart with a flaming dagger would slow him down.
He manages to manhandle me onto the floor, into a kneeling position, and prowls behind me, out of sight, giving me a full view of the Souza boss.
Tomás’ dress shoes strike the tiles as he strolls over to the messy bed beside me, pinches the knees of his tailored pants, and sits, every bit the intimidating god the tabloids portray him to be.
Me though, I remember his shiny, smart shoes and those pitch-black eyes of his boring into my cold body as I lay in that hideous barn.
There was nothing divine about him that day. No, he was the devil's servant, obediently covering up the inhumane mess his father had let happen.
“It’s confession time, Daniela Blanco,” Tomás orders, his voice husky and low. “Think of The Covenant as your church where you’ll seek refuge and protection…” He pauses for a heartbeat. “If you’re truly loyal, that is.”
The sculpted edge of his cheekbones meets precisely trimmed stubble, immaculate in every way. But the way he speaks—that gritty texture, rich and confident—makes my hairs stand at attention.
It's obvious he’s Matheus’ big brother. There’s no denying the family resemblance. It’s strong in all four men. Even if they don't share the same father, they’re all-powerful Souza men.
However, Matheus stands out to me in more ways. He’s in a different league than this man. Far more superior and much better looking. There’s nothing I’d change about him.
Whereas Tomás, I’d change the fact he’s still breathing.
Tomás casually props his elbows on his knees, bringing the bloodstone on his finger into my line of sight. The prominent Souza symbol that Matheus doesn’t wear.
“What brings you to Sicily?” Tomás stares right through me, our gazes intensely connected.
I raise my chin in defiance, showing no weakness unlike the last time we’d met. Back then, my body felt like an earthquake had gone off inside of it.
I’d nipped my lower lip so hard it punctured the flesh, just to stay quiet and appear dead.
“I’m an agent, aren’t I?” I reply flatly. “Here to fulfill The Covenant oath.”
“Right, yeah… about that.” Tomás straightens. “You took your time finding your way back. Why is that?”
I look up at the ceiling and sigh, not hiding my offhand attitude. He can go fuck himself. I’m not that innocent girl anymore and if the opportunity arises, I’d headbutt the fucker’s nose with as much force as I could muster.
God, the fracturing sound would have my veins singing.
I’d happily wear Tomás Souza’s black blood even if Blanco wouldn't approve. He never said I couldn’t defend myself.
“Well, let’s see,Tommy.” I shorten his name, saying it flippantly. “Your men used a chloroform-soaked rag to knock me out. Probably because they were scared I’d beat the shit out of them if I was conscious. After that, when I came around, it was a bloodbath. And the blood spilled, as you can see…” I raise my shoulders, keeping my tone blasé. “It wasn’t mine.”
When I chuckle, the corners of his mouth move ever so slightly as if he’s marginally amused, then in a heartbeat, his expression reverts to stern all over again.
I laugh inwardly. My mistake. The Colombian kingpin is incapable of lightheartedness, not like his youngest brother.
Matheus is the blazing sun rays in my cold world.
An unsettling shiver spreads over me when Tomás cocks his head to the side, letting a second of silence swallow me.
“And that happened right after you assassinated one of our lieutenants? Am I right?”
“After I followed through on an order that was approved by…” I lean in closer. “…you.”
