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Her eyes widened.“The Iliad?You want me to use this beautiful book as a drawing board?”
He sat next to her, leaning back with a smirk.“I’ve read it already.Besides, I’d rather see your hands on it than gathering dust on a shelf.”
Catarina’s breath caught as his gaze lingered on her hands, then lifted to her mouth, then her eyes.The air between them thickened, equal parts danger and desire.
She laughed, taking the next spoonful of ice cream and eating it—this time slowly, dragging the cream off the spoon with a little swipe of her tongue before handing it back to him.He could tell she wanted to say something else, something sharp or maybe teasing, but instead she pressed her lips together and bent over the paper.
It was his Mont Blanc pen she held—a ridiculous little stick of gold and resin that cost as much as a used car.Sal still didn’t remember who had given it to him.A senator, maybe?Didn’t matter.He would’ve preferred a pack of cheap blue Bics from the corner store.Those never jammed.
“Can you draw?”he asked, smirking as he dug out another spoonful of rocky road and held it near her lips.
As she took the offered bite, Catarina shot him a glare, the kind meant to shut a man up.He only chuckled, and she exhaled impatiently before scrawling a large circle on the page.Slowly, lines took shape.Cheekbones.Thin lips.Sharp eyes that seemed to glare up at him from the paper itself.
Sal paused mid-bite, watching as the face morphed into someone he half-recognized.His chest tightened.He’d seen that scowl before, years back, in a smoky room or maybe across a crowded street.Not recent.Not close.But the memory tugged at him, elusive and sharp as a razor’s edge.
The woman in the sketch looked furious, as if Catarina had caught her mid-snarl.Was that deliberate?Or was that Catarina’s way of sketching someone’s soul, not just their face?
“This is good,” he said finally, his voice lower than he meant it to be.He nudged the spoon back to her lips, and she accepted it with a tiny triumphant lift of her chin.
“You know who she is?”Catarina asked, licking the spoon again.
Sal gritted his teeth.She had no idea what that did to him.His mind leapt, unbidden, to other things she could lick, other ways that mouth might drive him insane.Heat crawled down his spine, but he forced himself back into focus.
Groaning inwardly, he shook his head.“No.Not personally.But I’ve seen her.Somewhere.”His instincts, the ones that had kept him alive on the street, gnawed at him now.He had always been good at faces—too good to let this one slip past.
“I’m sorry I lied to you,” she whispered, folding her hands primly in her lap like a schoolgirl caught out of line.
“You didn’t lie.Not exactly,” he said, eyes still on the sketch.“You told me that you knew someone was going to betray me.You didn’t promise a name.”His tone was sharper now, edged with steel as his eyes took in the details of the woman’s face, trying to remember where he’d seen this person.“This…this could change things.”
He pushed to his feet, the chair scraping back.“Stay here.I’m giving this to Tony.He’ll run it through our facial recognition systems.”He glanced back once more, the image of that woman’s furious face burning in his mind.“We’ll get a name.”
Chapter 10
Enricopacedthelengthof his office like a caged beast, his shoes scuffing against the expensive area rug.Sweat trickled down his temple and he swiped it away with a trembling hand, only for more to bead along his hairline.His chest heaved as his mind spun through several ways that Catarina could destroy him.
His daughter.That insolent, treacherous brat!He was going to kill her.No—no, not kill.That was too quick, too merciful.He was going to break her.Beat her until she screamed his name in apology.Every bruise would remind her who owned her life, who had given it, and who could snuff out her life inch by inch.
The door banged open.
“Boss, I just heard—”
“You!”Enrico roared, spinning on Matteo Caruso like a striking snake.His face went crimson, his eyes wild.“All you had to do was marry the bitch!”
Matteo froze in the doorway, shoulders hunched, hands lifting automatically in a placating gesture.“Boss, please, I don’t know what happened.We were fine.Lunch the other day was fine, she smiled at me, then she just—”
“Liar!”The bellow and his fist slamming against the wood paneled wall rattled the framed photos.Enrico’s fury burned so hot he barely heard his own voice.“You drove her away!You—what the hell did you do to push my daughter into the arms of another man?”
“Nothing, boss,” Matteo croaked, his voice pitched low, desperate.He edged inside and closed the door quickly, shutting out the ears of the guards hovering in the hall.His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.“Nothing.I swear.”
Enrico’s lips peeled back in a snarl.He could see it now—the whispers running through his soldiers, his capos, everyone on his payroll.They’d be laughing, howling behind his back.The old man can’t even control his daughter.He was weak.Soft.Maybe even losing control of his turf.
Humiliation burned through him hotter than rage.
Romano had the girl now.Married her.That bastard had stolen his bargaining chip before Enrico could even play it.If he’d known that Romano was circling…hell, he would have bargained, squeezed something out of the deal.Instead, he had nothing but shame.
The humiliation burned.Then he stopped and… a spark caught.For a moment, Enrico froze as he thought about Romano and his daughter.Together.Married!
Romano wasn’t just a thief—he was family now.Enrico’s family.And family could be used.
