God Of Vengeance (Kings Of Mafia)

When the closing credits of Safe Haven roll over the screen, I smile at Mrs. Accardi.

“I love the movie.”

“I thought we’d watch it while Adia’s out with Damiano. He doesn’t allow anything with violence near her.”

My curiosity gets the better of me. “May I ask why?”

“Damiano’s father was a bastard,” she says, but before she can continue, Carlo comes into the sitting room.

“Are you done with the movie, Ma?”

“Yes.” Her gaze rests lovingly on her son. “Why?”

“I want to spend some time with you.”

She darts up from the armchair. “I’ll never say no to that.” Waving at me, she says, “Enjoy the rest of your night, cara.”

“You too.”

Once I’m alone in the sitting room, I walk to the shelf and grab the erotic book Mrs. Accardi made me read aloud last week when she played the prank on me.

Sitting down on the armchair again, I curl my legs beneath me and open to chapter two.

My eyes dart over the words, and as I read page after page, my heartbeat speeds up. When I get to a scene where the hero grabs the female lead and kisses the hell out of her, I stop to reread it again and again.

I’ve never been kissed and wonder what my first time will be like.

If I’m forced into an arranged marriage, will my future husband even bother kissing me?

Maybe Damiano will decide to let me go.

And maybe he won’t.

Shutting the book, I let out a sigh as I climb to my feet. I place the book back on the shelf, and feeling a little restless, I walk out of the sitting room.

I haven’t explored much of the mansion. With Mrs. Falco and Mrs. Accardi spending time with their sons, I decide now’s as good a time as any.

Walking through the foyer, I head to the right side, where I find another sitting room that’s decorated with brown leather and books on construction and architecture.

It feels like a man’s space, and I quickly leave to continue exploring.

At the end of the hallway, I walk into a dome-shaped room, and my lips part. There are plants everywhere, and moonlight shines through a glass ceiling.

I don’t bother searching for a light switch because it’s not too dark in the room.

Between potted plants are sofas and walking to the nearest one, I take a seat.

Leaning back, I stare up at the ceiling, a smile spreading over my face.

A peacefulness wraps around me, and I wonder why Mrs. Falco and Mrs. Accardi prefer to read in the sitting room when they could do it here.

Slipping my heels off, I curl my legs beneath me and enjoy the silence.

My body relaxes, but then I hear footsteps, and the peaceful moment shatters.

Just as I dart off the sofa, Damiano stalks into the room.

The moment his eyes lock on me, he stops dead in his tracks.

His voice sounds aggravated as he demands, “What are you doing in here?”

“I wasn’t aware this room was off-limits,” I say.

He walks closer to me, and when he’s within reaching distance, he glances down at my bare feet.

I quickly slide my foot into my shoe, but when I try to put on the other one, I momentarily lose my balance.

My hand automatically darts out and my palm connects with Damiano’s abs. The man is solid beneath my hand, and it makes my abdomen tighten so much I gasp.

Dio. Not again.

I shove my foot into the damn shoe and yank away from him. “Sorry. It was –”

“An accident.” The words rumble from him. “You should consider wearing different shoes.”

Yeah. High heels might get me killed around this man.

But then I realize, he hasn’t lost his temper.

Yet.

“Uhm …” I tilt my head back to make eye contact. “Ah … have a good night.”

Just as I take a step, his hand wraps around my bicep. Instantly, tingles spread over my skin, and my lips part.

“This room isn’t off limits,” he says. “You can stay.”

Oh.

He lets go of me, and I watch as he unbuttons his jacket before taking a seat on the sofa. Tilting his head back, he stares at me.

I can’t make out the expression on his face, and the atmosphere feels much tenser than usual with the room bathed in moonlight.

“Sit, Gabriella,” he orders. He tips his head to the empty space beside him.

A weird mixture of apprehension and anticipation spins in my stomach as I sit down.

My spine is straight, and my body on high alert. I glance at the indoor plants before turning my head and meeting Damiano’s intense gaze.

His eyes shine like dark pools of water, and I feel too unnerved to keep eye contact.

Needing to say something to break the silence, I ask, “Did you enjoy the dinner with your mother?”

He relaxes, and lifting his arm, he rests it on the back of the sofa.

His voice is deceptively soft when he answers, “Yes.”

Silence falls heavy between us, and I struggle not to fidget.

“Relax, Gabriella,” he mutters.

Yeah, that’s not going to happen.

I scoot backward in the seat and force my muscles to loosen.

When I glance at Damiano, I see he’s watching me, and I wonder if he can make out my facial expressions.

“You don’t want to return to your parents.”

The statement catches me off guard.

I wet my lips before I say, “No, I don’t.”

“Tell me about your childhood,” he demands.

I shrug, and unable to hold his intense gaze, I glance at the doorway.

“There’s not much to tell.”

“I doubt that,” he mutters. “Have they always abused you?”

His question has my eyes flying back to his.

I don’t know why he’s asking the questions, and not wanting to give him anything he can use against me, I keep quiet.

He stares at me for a moment, then nods. “It must’ve been bad if you’re not willing to talk about it.”

I fold my arms around me, then say, “It was nothing I couldn’t survive.”

He tilts his head, and it feels like he’s trying to pry my darkest secrets from me.

“You don’t fear dying.”

A frown forms on my forehead.

“Last night, you were more worried about being sent back to your parents than the possibility that I might kill you.”

That’s because I’ll suffer worse things than death at my parents’ hands.

Remembering my concern about being forced to marry Stefano, I ask, “If you send me back to Sicily, will you give your permission for Stefano to marry me?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I never change my mind once I’ve made a decision.”

Intense relief washes through me, and I whisper, “Grazie a Dio.”

“You should be thanking me and not the heavens.”

My gaze darts to Damiano’s. “Thank you.”

He lets out a sigh. “You don’t want to return to Sicily, and I won’t allow you to leave the mafia.” His tone drops low, the timbre ghosting over my skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. “What am I going to do with you?”

Instead of fearing for my future, the spicy book I was reading pops into my mind.

Now is not the time to think of erotic scenes.

The air grows even more tense, and it begins to feel like I’m in danger.

Of what, I don’t know.

When Damiano moves his hand from the sofa and his fingers wrap around the back of my neck, my eyes widen.

My heartbeat instantly speeds up, and I fist my hands on my lap.

He tugs me closer to him, and I have to brace a hand between us so I don’t fall against him.

He tilts his head, his dark gaze burning over my face. When he speaks, his voice sends another wave of goosebumps over my body.

“Do you like living in my mansion?”

I swallow hard but hold his gaze. “Yes.”

“Do you enjoy my mother’s company?”

“Very much.”

He leans a little closer, and when I feel his breath warm my mouth, my heart beats even faster.

“Can you have children?”

Shit. I think I know where this is going.

I look at Damiano, not as the Capo dei Capi, but as a man I might marry. He’s dangerously good-looking, so attraction won’t be a problem.

At least not on my part.

I feel my cheeks heat as I answer, “My father had a doctor inspect me. He said there was nothing wrong with me, and I should be able to have children.”

“Good,” he murmurs, the word almost a growl

My abdomen clenches so freaking hard I slap a hand over it.

Damiano’s eyes flick down before taking mine prisoner again.

He leans a little closer, then pauses. His features tighten until he looks downright predatory, and I suck in a desperate breath of air.

Before I can exhale, he closes the distance between us, and his mouth presses against mine.

I blink once before my eyes fall shut, an overwhelmingly intense emotion exploding in my chest.

I don’t have any time to take in the feel of his lips on mine before he pulls back.

I open my eyes, and when I see the dark expression on his face, a tremble wracks my body.

His fingers tighten around my neck, then he moves fast. When his mouth slams into mine, I instinctively press my free hand against his chest. Whether it’s to push him away or pull him closer, I don’t know.

I’m too inexperienced to know what to do, and when his tongue sweeps into my mouth, all common sense vanishes from my mind.

Having a man like Damiano be my first kiss is the last thing I expected, and it’s too overwhelming to process anything.

His tongue massages mine in a way that makes tingles engulf my entire body.

His lips nip at mine, leaving me completely breathless.

Just as quickly as he initiated the kiss, he pulls away from me.

My mind is a frazzled mess, my heart pounding against my ribs.

When I open my eyes, it’s to see Damiano climbing to his feet. Adjusting his jacket, he asks, “Can you handle a gun?”

Huh?

I shake my head, absolutely confused out of my ever-loving mind.

“It’s a problem that can be fixed.”

Not understanding, my voice is hoarse when I ask, “Why is it a problem?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he mutters before stalking out of the room.

What?

Still in a daze from experiencing my first kiss, I blink at the doorway.

What just happened?

Damiano just kissed the hell out of you and walked away like it didn’t mean anything to him. That’s what happened.

I lift my hand slowly until my fingers brush over my tingling lips.

Was he testing the waters to see if he felt attracted to me?

The way he abruptly ended the kiss has worry pouring into my chest.

What if he didn’t feel any attraction and decides to send me back to my parents?

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