Celeste;
Quiet. A very unsettling quiet sits heavy in the air.
So heavy it's choking me.
My throat tightens, the aura in the room feeling so god-damned suffocating.
A thick scent of weed and something more…masculine pierces the air.
Slowly, it dawns on me. This cannot be my bedroom.
I'd been fooled by the familiarity of it. Because this is the first room I'd ever entered when I'd infiltrated the mansion at that party.
Alarm bells erupt in my head. And I see red.
My heartbeat picks up, drumming a wild rhythm against my ribcage. So hard I can hear it in the silence.
But before I can attempt a step backwards, my back rams into something hard. Solid.
A gulp forces itself down my throat. Blood hums in my veins at the sign of looming danger.
I lower my gaze to the floor. Even in the dark of night, his shadow is darker. Hovering and completely snuffing out mine.
"Second time in my bedroom. Tell me, little viper…" the little gap he fills with his silence makes my skin ghost with goosebumps. The timbre of his deep, icy tone makes my body go stiff. "Do you want something only I can give?"
His breath fans the shell of my ear, making the skin his air touches singe with heat.
If Romano's question hadn't completely sobered me before, I am now. Wide gaze and racing pulse.
I suppress a gasp. No way I'm letting him under my skin.
Stupidly, I find footing, whirling to face him, only to be stopped dead in my movement.
Caruso is…Goodness, my palms rush to my face.
He chuckles. The sound, deep and magnetic. Liquid heat ricocheting throughout my body.
I thought he was incapable of such sounds.
"Don't pretend like you can't see," he drawls.
He's right. I'm shamelessly peeking between the spaces in my palms.
I catch a smirk resting on his lips as our gazes collide between the gaps of my fingers.
I'm unsure if it's the alcohol effect, but I don't move away when large palms lift to my face, equally large digits wrapping around mine. And slowly—so deliberately slow—he lowers them.
Never shifting his attention from mine.
My skin burns where he touches me.
Once he brings my arms down, involuntarily, I steal a glance at the ripples of muscle on his bare chest.
Catching myself immediately, I snag my hand from his.
"I—sorry, I mistook your room for mine," trying to squint the impending headache away, I rattle.
"Mistake, huh?"
Unable to form words, my head bobs.
I try not to flick my gaze downward, to that sharp V that's cut short with loose pants hanging low. The band of his briefs is exposed, hugging tightly to his waist.
God! I fail.
A shiver rocks my spine, my skin tingling where his thumb presses to my chin as he lifts my gaze to stare directly into his.
"Focus, little one."
As though he knows what they do to me.
My fists clench.
"Let. Me. Go." I grit out.
Caruso's gaze darkens, his head tilts maniacally. And my breath hitches.
"That night, it was you." It isn't a question.
Jumbled thoughts race through my muddled head. Phantoms of excuses cruising through my mind, but I just can't grab one.
I let the silence simmer while his stare singes my soul.
"I told you, I was curious." I tell him. Hoping he'll let it go at that.
Wishful thinking.
Caruso's gaze lowers—deliberately slow—to my lips. And then his parts to whisper, "Is lying the only thing this mouth knows how to do?"
I couldn't hold it in this time. I gasp. Bathing his fingers with my breath. The glint in his gaze goes a shade darker.
Blood whooshes so loud in my ears I think I'll explode.
"You're not Galo's last daughter, right?" He skims my face for a while, and I'm afraid to breathe.
"I am," I don't know why that comes off in a fucking whisper.
He grins, a malevolent look in his eyes. The pale moonlight sneaks through the slight slit of the floating curtains to rest on his face.
He's so fucking handsome.
God! It must be the alcohol.
"Fine then." He pushes away from me, and I mourn the absence of his heat.
'Pull yourself together, Poppy!'
But oh boy, I am proven wrong. Long, deft digits grip my shoulder blades—before I can realize what's happening, his fingers slip beneath my top, pulling it down by the left side.
"What the fuck?!"
He ignores me, attention glued to my left shoulder all the way to my elbow joint.
It clicks. The bullet.
I swallow, wondering how I'm going to evade the question if he brings it up.
"It's gone." He deadpans, features barely moving.
The man is stone cold.
The spot is as smooth as porcelain—Super thanks to Matt.
This shit keeps getting messier.
"Caruso, this is wrong."
His gaze lifts to mine, and something flickers within it.
"What's wrong?" he drawls, throaty and deep.
God! This man is sin in human form.
I indulge him. "Me. Here. In your…" the fiery green in his gaze burns through mine. "By this time of the night."
Anticipation eats at me, wondering what he might reply.
The ruthless Capo turns out to be stingy with words. He says nothing.
Rather, he takes his lower lip between his teeth, and pops it back out with a slow drag of teeth against plump flesh.
And I watch, with air trapped in my lungs.
Head cocked to the side, I seem to read 'what's the worst that can happen?' from his icy demeanor.
I swallow hard. "That will be really bad."
That purely sadistic grin tips the corner of his mouth.
"This is nothing compared to your future husband finding out you took a bullet for me, little one." He croons, slow and sinful; savoring the damage the words will do.
Tonight, I'm reminded why I hate the gaze staring down at me with wicked mirth.