Page 33 of The Crowned Garza
A DISTANT SOUNDwakes me.
Eyes blurry with sleep, I sit up in bed,hisname a whisper on my lips. The bedroom door is open, soft light spilling in from the main area.
He’s back.
Blearily, I stumble out of bed and pad out of the room.
There he is. Standing barefoot and bare-chested by the wall of windows, gazing out at the glitzy view, lounge pants hung low on his hips.
Who else gets to see him like this? I want to fight them. I want to duel. I want this sight to be only mine. Let everyone else get the covered-up, bow tie-and-suspenders Guy. This…this isSaint. This is art I wish I could purchase and keep under lock and key. For my eyes only.
After several minutes of shameless leering, I sigh appreciatively and cross the space to where he is. Playfully, I poke his side. “Why do you look like you’ve got the world on your shoulders?”
“The world I can handle. You?” he says without looking at me. “I don’t know what the fuck to do with you.”
“Just ask me. I’m not that hard to please.”
“Don’t misunderstand me…” He scratches his jaw with one finger. “I’m not interested in pleasing you.”
Biting my lip to hide a smile, I shift around so my back is against the glass. “Would it be easier for you if you could just kill me?”
“Much.”
“How would you do it?”
At last, his gaze shifts to me, drifts to my neck. “With you, I would take it slow. So slow you’d start begging for it…”
“Sounds fun.” Why am I so hot all of a sudden? We’re talking about me beingmurderedhere. “I just might make you do it.”
“You want to please me that much?”
“I’m benevolent like that.”
A light scoff leaves him and he shifts his attention back to the view outside the windows. “Go back to bed.”
No, I want your attention on me again.Unthinking, I reach out and tug at the strings of his lounge pants. “Come with me.”
Slowly, oh so slowly, he looks down at my fingers grasping the strings of his pants, then drags his gaze up to mine.
“Piccola regina…”
“Hmm?”
“Do you remember why you’re here?” he asks, deceptively quiet. “Do you remember how you felt last night?”
Chastened, mortified, I let go of his strings. What a dick for bringing that up. For shaming me like this.
Satisfied with whatever he finds on my face, he dips his head and meets my eyes straight on. “Don’t poke the bear unless you’re sure you’re ready to play with it. Nowgo backto fucking bed.”
Dejected, I push away from the glass and start to leave.
But then a shot of defiance hits my veins, and I turn back and step up to him, staring up into those soulless eyes. “You don’t scare me, Santo Luciani.”
“Of course not. You’re fucking reckless.” He shakes his head. “Your Jamaican mamma didn’t tell you ‘coward men keep sound bones’?”
“Yeah.”Constantly. “But having my bones shattered soundsmuchmore fun.”
A gasp is knocked out of me when he grabs a fistful of my shirt and drapes me up against him. Effortlessly. “What. The fuck. Is wrong. With you?”
