"You like it, don't you?"
"What?" I managed to breathe.
"The fear, Miss Night," he mused, "you crave it."
_______________________________________
Sabina Night owes Antonio Marafi her life.
But when he asks her to spy on the Russo crime family, Sabin...
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"Breathe," Gio's voice whispered in my ear.
"Right," I snapped, my knee shaking up and down at the same pace as my heart. "Because that's what I need to be reminded of. To breathe. Why not say 'relax' too for all the good that saying—"
"You should have to sharpen your teeth before you're able to bite my head off like that, amore."
I groaned, shoving my head into my hands and trying to ignore the vague thumping of the music from downstairs. His hand slid to the small of my back, pressing his lips to my cheek. His calmness should have been enough to soothe me, it usually was, but today it wasn't.
We had been waiting in the upstairs club for almost an hour before the Don deigned to meet with us. He was forty-five minutes late. My sanity was barely hanging by a thread thirty minutes ago. Now it had slipped away into the very recesses of my dark mind. Instead, I'd amused myself by thinking of all the different ways that the Don would kill me.
The worst version that I could imagine consisted of Gio killing me himself. But at least the last thing I saw would be those golden eyes.
"Stop being dramatic," he muttered, "I told you that nothing is going to happen."
I glared at him. Was it possible he could read my mind? Though, maybe he could tell from the look of absolute terror that was plain on my face. He gave me a pointed look which told me it was the second option and I tried to school my features into an expression which didn't completely belie my guilt. Which proved to be difficult as I bore a lot of it.
But then the Don sat in front of us on the couch and the years of lying to powerful men came back to me. I crossed my leg over my thigh and leaned forward slightly on the chair, resting my elbow on the armrest. The Don's eyes flared with that familiar and oily expression. At least I still knew how to distract him before he potentially had me killed.
"È bello vederti, fratello." Don Russo looked at me. "Ed è sempre bello vedere il tuo amante. Lei continua a tentarmi. Perché sono stato convocato?"
Gio cleared his throat, glancing down at me before steeling those gold eyes back on his brother.
"Let's stick to English, shall we? Sabina doesn't speak—"
"Per discutere di Marafi. È un problema," I said, keeping my gaze fixed on a spot of Don Russo's forehead.
An old trick of avoiding the eyes of men who could destroy me, while still giving me an air of power. I would take the smallest breath of power I could get right now.
Due to the surprise on both men's faces at my Italian, I earned maybe a couple of breaths. Don Russo's brow rose and he inclined his head toward me.
"And what about him? He's sent the contracts through with our previous deal and he's been quiet since." Don Russo inspected me with eyes almost as discerning as his brother's. "I take it very seriously when someone tells me that my business partner's a problem. Do you understand that, Sabrina?"
