The minute I step foot in the house, my gut warns me that something is wrong. My only alarming evidence is a distant flowery scent I once treasured above all. I tell myself I’m being pathetic and overly vigilant. That my cautious steps inside my own home are uncalled for. Simply a triggered impulse, provoked by Gio’s telephone call, blown out of proportion. Still, the sweet fragrance hits my nose and heightens further once I reach my study doors. A dormant heart starts pumping madly within my chest as I let myself in and confirm my suspicions—I’m not alone in this house.
Holding a glass of whiskey in her hand, while admiring the framed photographs I keep on the fireplace mantel, stands a striking blond in the dark room, with only the beams of moonlight as company.
Fucking Giovanni.
This reeks of him and his constant meddling. He should know me better.
“Whoever sent you made a grievous mistake. I don’t take kindly to strangers invading my home when uninvited. Drinking my whiskey doesn’t get you any brownie points either, sweetheart,” I huff out, annoyed at the intrusion.
What was the idiot thinking? If I don’t pay any attention to all the free pussy that is shoved in my face left and right, did he actually expect I’d care to have the attention of a paid escort?
“Duly noted,” the alluring woman finally replies, and her soft tone, accompanied by the heavenly reminiscing perfume, makes my skin crawl with hate and my chest tighten with memories long buried. “But I thought you wouldn’t be too upset if a friend took some liberties,” she adds, taking another small taste of the hard liquor while keeping her back to me at all times.
“Friend, you say? Refresh my memory because I don’t recall a blonde in my circle of friends,” I provoke, strolling over to the bar I have in the corner of the study and pouring a double.
“I wasn’t always a blonde,” she whispers, and I close my eyes to keep myself from falling to my knees in both relief and contempt.
“No. I remember red being your color,” I quip back bitterly, drinking my glass in one fast swig, and knowing it won’t settle my nerves in any way tonight.
“I agree,” she admits, placing her glass on the mantle and picking up a photograph I haven’t touched in years.
“You look so young here. Happy,” she says wistfully, and I watch her delicate finger trace the faces of the two steadfast cousins she helped destroy.
“Do I? I can’t remember,” I grunt back resentfully, walking over to an armchair and taking a seat to watch her full performance in action.
“Yes, you do. You remember everything, in the same way I can’t forget,” she hushes, letting out a long sigh before placing the picture back to its familiar spot.
“I like your house. It suits you,” she ventures and her feeble attempt at small talk is what does me in. I have no time for whatever game she’s playing or her presence.
“What do you want, Selene?” I growl, wanting her to say her peace and leave my sight as fast as possible.
“I need your help,” she responds, her soothing voice no longer holding up to its placid tone.
The minute she turns around, I have to grind my teeth to keep my cold exterior in place. This ravishing stranger will get nothing from me, and surely not an ounce of emotion either.
“My answer is no,” I exclaim dispassionately, hiding away the fire burning at my throat.
“But you haven’t even heard why I need it,” she replies fiercely. Her brows push together in aggravation.
“I don’t have to. You are no longer any concern of mine. You made sure to cut those ties years ago,” I recall, making sure she understands that she knocked on the wrong door. Come to think about it, she didn’t knock at all.
“How did you get in, Selene? Did you break in without tipping off my men outside?” I ask, truly curious if it was her resourcefulness or her uncanny manipulation that got her way inside.
“Well, I did learn a thing or two.” She gives me a soft smile, and I want to rip it off her face.
“I don’t doubt it. No matter what tricks you’ve acquired, it won’t do you any good. Duty orders I slice your throat where you stand.”
“I’m sorry?” She asks outraged, her smile no longer visible.
Yes, this is much better.
“You should be. You broke syndicate law by running away from the famiglia. If anyone discovers you’ve returned, they’ll expect the boss to cut you down and make an example of you for your treason.”
“But you’re the boss,” she hollers, pointing toward me with the same pain-filled disgust I feel traveling all through my body.
“I see you’ve been well informed. How ingenious of you to know about my life when I know so little of yours,” I counter coolly, while retrieving my cigarette case from my suit’s inner pocket.
She always detested when I smoke in her presence, and I bowed to her will on every occasion. Right now, I want her to see how my yielding days are long over.
“As you’ve said, my life is of no concern. All you need to know is that I need your help,” she snarls at me, losing her temper, and her fiery glare slices me open with the memories it inflicts.
“I couldn’t give a rat’s ass what you need or want, Selene. What I do care, is that you are in my house, and I want you gone before you do or say something that will force my hand.”
“You won’t lay a hand on me, Vincent,” she exclaims triumphantly, but the stiffening of her back contradicts her assurance.
“Try me. It won’t take much,” I cajole, blowing the gray, nicotine-filled cloud her way.
The venom in her emerald eyes almost poisons my resolve, and a sliver of want wishes this room wasn’t so goddamn dark, as it’s depriving me a perfect view of such angry jewels. This small, suffocating desire is all I need to know that I’ve been in her presence long enough.
I abruptly stand from my seat and watch as she instinctively takes a step back. Without even trying, she ends up being the one slicing and dicing. That small, fearful step away from me inflicts a wound greater than any I could ever be capable of giving her. I walk to my welcomed escape and stop at its threshold.
“Get out of my house. Get out of my city. Get out of my state, Selene. Crawl back into the hole you came from and don’t come back. Next time I won’t be so merciful,” I threaten and walk away from the woman who is still able to incite every latent feeling now bubbling inside me.
I just wish hate was predominate above all others.
SIX
Selene
“And where do you think you’re going?” the six-foot-five monster of a man growls at me, halting my attempts to side-step behind him into the club.
“Inside,” I counter, continuing to try and bypass his intimidating form.
“Oh no, you don’t, Blondie. Club’s closed. Come back later when we’re open. Then you can party,” he grunts, pushing me just hard enough to take a step back from the main door.
I huff out, exasperated at the tower in my way, and place my hands on my hips.