RUTHLESS KING

18 THE DEVIL IN MY BED

Stella
I turn my face, and my cheek presses against something hard. The bruise
pulses, and my eyes snap open. A golden cross nestled in a tangle of dark
hair and tanned skin fills my vision. And that familiar white bandage. What
the …? Steel bands are wrapped around my torso, a muscled leg entwined
between my own.
My heart springs up my throat, and I barely suppress a squeal as my
hazy thoughts come to focus. Luca. In my bed. Worse, my arm is wrapped
around his bare waist. I’m torn by the urge to scream or cuddle closer into
his warm, spicy scent.
After a nightmare riddled first night after the mugging, this was the best
sleep I’d gotten in years. But why? Why is the devilish mob boss in bed
with me? Again, indecision wars with my sanity. I should shove him off and
get the hell out of here. My body betrays me, curling into the oddly familiar
touch.
I try to stretch out my leg, and my knee accidentally rubs up against a
particularly hard part of his lower anatomy. Panic freezes my movements. A dark chuckle rips through the thick silence. “Good morning,
princess.”
I gasp and peel my body from his, shooting straight up. “What are you
doing in my bed?”
“Well, technically, it’s my bed, as is all the furniture in this penthouse.”
Shooting him a narrowed glare, I reach for the comforter and pull it up
to my chin. He lays across the mattress in only boxer briefs. I send up a
quick thank you to the Virgin Mary he’s not in those skin-tight bikini
bottoms. As it is, I can already see the perfect shape of his dick. Oh, Dio. I
drag my eyes away from his thickening erection.
“Why are you here?” I blurt again.
A look I’ve never seen on the smug C.E.O. splashes across his
handsome face. Fear? Regret? I can’t quite tell. “You were crying last night,
and you called my name.” He shrugs nonchalantly, and the raw moment of
insecurity vanishes. “I thought something was wrong, so I came.”
“And crawled into bed with me?”
“You pulled me onto the bed!”
“Liar,” I hiss.
“I’m not lying, you can check the footage—” His mouth snaps shut, and
unease prickles across my spine.
“There’s a camera in my bedroom?”
“I told you there was … just not in the bathroom.” A smirk crawls
across his lips as embarrassment steamrolls over me.
Oh God, please don’t tell me he saw when I …. The thought is too
horrifying to complete even in my mind.
“Don’t worry, princess, this was the first time you’ve cried out my name
in bed. But hopefully not the last.”
I reach for a pillow and chuck it at the smirking bastardo. He ducks, and
the fluffy projectile sinks to the floor. “We’ll have to work on your aim so you can defend yourself better next
time.”
“Next time?” My tone hitches up a notch.
“I meant because of the mugger, not that you’ll find me in your bed
again. Unless you ask that is.”
“I will never ask that of you.” Liar. A dark voice in my mind calls me
out on the bullshit.
“Never say never, princess.” He rises, revealing that ripped torso and
the swirl of mesmerizing tattoos. My eyes instinctively drop to take in every
inch of his caramel-skinned perfection. Dammit. He saunters toward the
door but spins back at the last second. His easy expression hardens, jaw
clenching. “About that thief… you’ll never have to worry about him or
anyone else hurting you again.” A lethal ferocity skates through his tone,
thickening his accent, and the hair on the back of my neck prickles. Not just
at the sound but the familiarity.
My eyes close, and I’m back on the subway platform, the cement
digging into my knees and Bo’s fingers twisted in my hair. That voice.
“It was you,” I whisper.
His eyes widen, a hint of surprise flashing before his demeanor returns
to neutral. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“In the subway, with that asshole Bo Zhang about two weeks ago.”
The corners of his eyes crinkle, lending a hint of humor to his dark
gaze. “I’m not in the habit of taking the subway, princess. Too many
scumbags.”
My chest tightens with an unfamiliar emotion. It’s been years since I’ve
felt cared for, no, taken care of. After the cancer ripped through Mom and
then Vinny’s attack, I was the one who held us together, who stepped in
when Dad was too drunk to see straight. And in only a few days with this
man, he’s managed to fill a void I hadn’t even realized was there. A man
who’s holding me captive against my will. Dio, I am pazza.
Luca watches me from across the room for a long moment, midnight
irises smoldering. The air crackles between us, an electric charge filling the
space. It was him, I’m certain. Heat zips over every inch of my body as that
scrutinizing gaze rakes over me. That look is like a lethal caress, the
intensity enough to send warmth pooling between my legs.
Madonna, it should be illegal.
“What?” I finally blurt because in a second I’ll melt into a puddle from
that piercing stare.
“I like my shirt on you.” His jaw clamps shut the moment the words are
out, as if they’d escaped without his approval. He drags his hand through
his hair and mutters something I can’t quite make out. “You did get the
suitcase of clothes Mickey dropped off?”
I nod. “Yeah, I think Magda put it in the closet.” I chew on my lower lip
for another second before muttering, “Thanks for that.”
“So why are you still wearing my shirt?” His dark brow lifts, and
amusement brings a twinkle to his eyes.
I shrug. “I didn’t even notice I had it on.” Lie. “I must have grabbed it
off the floor last night in the dark without thinking. I was exhausted ….” I
stop talking because the twist at the corners of his mouth tells me he’s not
buying it. Hell, I know I don’t. I’d never admit it to the arrogant mob boss,
but his scent calms the raging storm of nerves. It must have been because he
was the one that picked me up off the streets after that robber assaulted me.
It’s misplaced hero-syndrome or something. That’s a thing, right?
He steps closer, and my spine snaps to attention. Cazzo, my whole body
does, forcing me to stand. “I meant what I said before, I took care of that
pezzo di merda. No one touches what’s mine.”
My core clenches, and I release a shuddering breath. I should be
insulted by the way he talks about me, like I’m nothing more than a toy, one of his shiny possessions. But the dark glimmer in his eye, the curve of his
lips, the hard clench of his jaw has heat racing below.
To distract myself from the ache, I blurt the first thing that comes to
mind. “Did you kill him?” I was too young to remember much about my
nonno, Michele Esposito, but his reputation preceded him. Even though
Mom had never been in the business, I’d grown up hearing countless
stories. I knew what happened when you crossed the big boss.
He stalks closer still, and my body thrums with anticipation. He towers
over me, the sinister curl of his lips doing unspeakable things to my insides.
His warm breath ghosts over my mouth. “Did you want me to?” he
whispers, the question much more seductive than it has any right to be.
My pulse accelerates, vision blurring as I’m back on that crowded
street. The man barrels into me, holds a gun on me and then I’m falling. I
hit the floor and my mind swims, the edges of my vision darkening. I’m
catapulted back in time to a similar smack, to all the times my father took
out his drunken rage on me. For a second, I thought I was going to pass out.
Did the guy deserve to die for that? Probably not, but a deep, dark part of
me wants to say yes. I finally shake my head.
He cracks his knuckles and fury surges across that handsome face,
sharpening his features. “I wanted to.” He drags his thumb across my
bottom lip, and a tremor roars through me at his touch.
That air thickens again as our gazes remain entangled for an endless
moment. If he only tipped his head forward another inch his lips would
capture mine. I hold my breath in anticipation, battling with the knowledge
that I want this. I want his mouth on me. Everywhere.
There’s something in that dark gaze, something hidden deep beneath
those pools of onyx. I try to grasp onto the feeling, but it withers away until
there’s nothing left but that look, those eyes boring into me.
“Instead of killing the lowlife,” he finally says, releasing my lip, “I
decided to make an example of him. Now, everyone will know that you are under my protection. If anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, I’ll
kill them with my bare hands.”
I swallow hard. Without truly knowing this man, I understand he’s not
trying to impress me with his threats. I feel the certainty down to my core.
He would really do that and more because he believes I do belong to him.
And as fucked up as it is, a swell of exhilaration blooms at his words. At
the idea of not being alone anymore.
He hitches his thumb over his shoulder, taking a step back and signals
toward the hallway. The overwhelming tension dissipates, and I finally
release the breath I’ve been holding and sag back down on the bed. “I’m
going to get dressed. I have a conference call in half an hour.”
“You’re not going into the office today?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, I thought I’d work from home. Someone has
to make sure you stay out of trouble. I can’t have you all scratched up for
the big Heart Ball next week. What’s the point of arm candy if it’s all
banged up?”
I shoot him the middle finger, and the tense set of his jaw softens until it
melts into a smile. Luca smirks a lot, but a smile, a true genuine smile on
the man is devastating. I dart into the bathroom to keep myself from staring
like a silly fool.
Dio, one night in this man’s arms, and I’m starting to forget that I’m
actually a prisoner here. A prisoner in a gilded cage, captured by a man who
makes my body thrum and my heart sing.