Chapter Five

I sprinted after Greta. With my much longer legs, I soon caught sight of her again as she dashed down a staircase into the basement.

Not even stopping to think, I chased after her. She was probably leading me into a dungeon where her evil twin could torture me to his heart’s desire.

“Stop!” I shouted.

She didn’t. Instead, she turned another corner and another, and then disappeared into a room. I rushed after her but she was already on her way out again. I couldn’t stop anymore and she barreled into me, bouncing off my hard chest like a ball. My hands shot out, grabbing her arms to stop her fall. My fingers closed completely around her slim upper arms. Her body became tight as a bowstring, her eyes widened, mouth falling open, and she recoiled violently. I released her and she stumbled backward then fell to the floor.

An earsplitting alarm sounded and I whirled around. The toe of my shoe hit a wood wedge, but I was busy trying to figure out how to stop the howling.

“No!” Greta shouted, pointing at the heavy steel door, which fell shut with a loud clang. The keypad beside it glowed red once, then turned off, and a few moments later the sirens stopped.

“What the fuck is this shit?” I snarled. Had this been Falcone’s plan all along? Trapping me in a cell in his basement? Had this been a trap?

Then I remembered something, or rather someone.

I turned away from the steel door and lowered my gaze to the girl cowering on the ground.

Huge dark-brown eyes peered up at me, set in the most beautiful face I’d ever seen, and framed by dark hair. The girl was petite but with an aura so overpowering that it magnified her physical presence.

Her brows snatched together as her eyes took me in and she scurried backward, bringing more distance between us, acute nervousness flashing across her face. She definitely knew me.

I couldn’t stop staring at her heart-shaped face.

If this had been Falcone’s plan, it had seriously backfired. I could only imagine how he’d react if he found out I was alone with his daughter.

“Can you unlock the door?” I asked. My voice was rough, from running, from adrenaline, from my previous fight, and Greta’s hands began shaking. Was she scared of me? It seemed ridiculous considering she’d been raised by the madmen of Las Vegas. Brutal men were her constant companions.

But unlike them, she didn’t know me except for my reputation, which was probably why her brother hated me so much. I stole his show in the brutality department on occasion.

“You don’t have to be scared of me,” I said quietly, softening my voice, something I never did for anyone, and I wasn’t sure why the hell I did it for her, but I simply didn’t want her to be scared of me.

She tilted her head, regarding me quietly. The tension didn’t leave her body. “I know who you are,” she said simply. She touched her ear, eyes flitting to the keypad then to me again.

“And I know who you are, Greta, so you’re safe by default. Not to mention that I’d never hurt a woman. You don’t have to be worried.”

“I’m not scared of you,” she said, which I seriously doubted considering her reaction to my proximity so far, but I allowed her the lie. “There’s blood on your face and shirt.”

I reached for my mouth and my fingers came away red. My tongue. Glancing down at my shirt, I saw a few droplets of blood on the white material, which had spread due to the fabric’s wet state.

No wonder she’d run away screaming. She’d probably thought I’d come to murder her, or worse. I could only imagine what kind of horror stories Nevio told her about me.

“Fuck.” My eyes flitted up to find Greta still watching me. “I apologize. I shouldn’t curse in front of you.” Had I really just said that?

“I hear worse on a daily basis,” she said, her body relaxing ever so slightly.

“I bet.”

She pointed at my lips as she pushed to her feet. “Was that Nevio?”

“No.” I wasn’t sure why I said it but for some reason I didn’t want her to know how much he and I hated each other. Once she saw us together there would be no hiding it, not to mention that I didn’t know why I’d bother anyway.

The silk ribbon of one of her ballet shoes had come undone and wrapped around her other leg, causing her to lose her balance. I reached out to steady Greta who stumbled forward. Her eyes widened, looking at my fingers on her arm as if they might strangle her. I released her the moment she was steady. Dad would be pissed if I caused a war with the Camorra with a misunderstanding. I bet Remo and Nevio would love to misunderstand me touching Greta’s arm.

“I meant it, you don’t have to be scared.”

She smiled in embarrassment. “And I told you, I’m not scared of you. I’m nervous around people I don’t know well, especially in surroundings that give me anxiety in the first place.”

I remembered the rumors about her social phobia. I’d never given it much thought. I’d never given Greta Falcone much thought. I nodded. “There’s only one solution to our problem, you have to enter the code that keeps us locked in.”

She shook her head then bent forward to wrap the ribbon around her slender ankle and calf once more, completely throwing me off with the movement and the way her ass propped up in the air. “I can’t. Someone set off the alarm by entering a wrong code somewhere in the house and by doing so locked all the electronic doors in the house.” She seemed completely oblivious of the view she was giving me. I swallowed thickly and dragged my eyes back to the keypad and busied myself hitting the buttons of it but the keys remained dark.

“How long will we be trapped down here?”

She appeared in my peripheral vision but more than an an arm’s length away from me. “My family will check every locked room in the mansions and basements systematically.” She fell silent, gnawing on her lower lip. “I can’t tell you more.”

I could make you.This was important safety information. I just nodded.

My eyes traveled the length of her once more, unable to stop. She barely reached my chest and the cold down here in the basement had a very obvious effect on her body, the least of all were the goosebumps on her skin. Her nipples had hardened to firm pebbles under her leotard.

Tearing my gaze away, I cleared my throat, which felt dry and rough. “Will you be okay in this enclosed space until someone gets us out?”

She gave me a grateful smile. “I doubt I have a choice, so yes, I’ll be okay.”

For some reason, my lips pulled into a smile in return which I cut off quickly. What the hell was wrong with me?

“I’m sure we’ll be out in no time.”

Greta eyed me with curiosity. I met her gaze and she didn’t look away. She scanned me from head to toe. If it was any other girl, I’d say she was checking me out, but with her I honestly wasn’t sure.

“You’re very tall and muscled, unusually so.”

My eyebrows shot up, and I almost laughed. I didn’t laugh in public, definitely not around people who could become the enemy any day. “Thanks?” I said then narrowed my eyes. “Or did you insult me? I’m really not sure.”

Greta tilted her head with a small, secretive smile. “It wasn’t an insult.”

“A compliment?”

“A fact.”

“A fact,” I echoed, and shook my head with a chuckle.

She nodded and moved toward a corner. “Maybe we should get comfortable. I have a feeling this will take a bit.”

Greta sank down to the floor in a cross-legged seat, arranging her tutu carefully over her upper thighs, and gave me an expectant look. I motioned at the padded stretcher in the center, that looked far more comfortable than the cold stone floor but a haunted expression slithered across Greta’s face and so I went over to her. I sank to the ground as well and stretched out my legs but made sure not to touch Greta.

“You know what this place is for, that’s why you don’t want to sit on the stretcher.” Even if I hadn’t been in similar rooms back in New York, I would have recognized a place for torture by the bloody straps on the stretcher and the array of pliers, needles and knives on the small metal table at the other end of the room.

“Yes. I know what it is and what they are.”

A hint of protectiveness rang in her voice. I didn’t comment. My feelings for the majority of her family weren’t fit for her ears.

“Do you consider yourself so different from them?”

In some ways, yes, but in many others not at all. Greta meant the latter. “No, which is why I wonder why you aren’t scared of me, especially when you have trouble with people in general.”

“I’m not scared of people, they only make me anxious. And I’m not scared of you because…” She searched my face for longer than was appropriate but I didn’t mind her curiosity. “…because I just know deep down that I don’t have to fear you.”

I’d expected her to say because of her father. After all, he’d invited us here and this was his territory, and while this was probably part of the truth as well, her answer pleased me much more. She smiled again. She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed her upper arms with her hands. I didn’t see anything I could have used to warm her, except for my body heat and that was out of the question for various reasons.

“You’re cold,” I murmured. She shivered and curled and uncurled her ballet flats to get warmth into her feet.

“I’m okay. Maybe you can distract me?” She tilted her head to the side, gazing up at me through impossibly long lashes. How could so much loveliness be related to Nevio fucking Falcone?

Fuck, I knew just the way to distract her from the cold.

I stared down at my arms that were loosely resting on my knees. Whatever was going on in my head had to stop.

This was Greta Falcone. Twin of the guy I’d one day kill. Daughter of the man I’d probably have to kill right after.

She was off limits. I tried to find more reasons to stop thinking about her like this, but her age wasn’t one. She was eighteen and I was only four and a half years older.

What about Cressida?

“Why are you here?” Greta ripped me out of my thoughts.

“My father’s meeting with your father,” I said. “Business.”

I wasn’t sure how much she knew about the details of our truce and business in general so I didn’t mention the problems with our drug routes.

“But you aren’t at the meeting now.”

I met her gaze, a caught laugh tumbling out. The low rumble surprised me. “The atmosphere got a bit tense so I decided to catch some fresh air.”

“Nevio likes fighting.”

I didn’t say anything because it wouldn’t have been fit for her ears.

“I didn’t know you were a dancer,” I said, watching how she straightened her toes and let her slender fingers slide over the tutu. Until today I had hardly known anything about Greta Falcone so my words made absolutely no sense.

Her expression became even softer, which made her loveliness shine all the brighter.

“Ballet,” she said as if she were talking about a lover, full of devotion and adoration, and I caught myself wishing she’d use that tone when talking about me.

“And you? Do you like to dance?” she asked, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her chin on her knees.

“Depends. I used to go to dance clubs a lot when I was younger, now not quite so much, but I suppose you wouldn’t call that dancing.” Mostly I was out with Maximus looking for easy pussy. That was definitely not something I’d mention to Greta.

She frowned, looking as if my words didn’t quite make sense. “Why would I say that? Me dancing ballet doesn’t mean I appreciate other dance styles less. If dancing in clubs is your passion, then that’s as valid as my form of dancing.”

My passion? Looking into those dark eyes, regarding me as if she was really trying to see me beyond the obvious, I knew one thing I could be really passionate about.

“I’ve never been to the ballet,” I admitted.

Greta looked sad. “You should go. It’s beautiful.”

“I can imagine,” I said roughly, imagining how Greta danced on stage. Yet, at the same time I loathed the idea of her dancing for anyone but me. What the hell was wrong with me? I was engaged. I had no business wanting Greta to dance for me. I couldn’t have her. Cressida would probably turn a blind eye to me cheating on her. She was content becoming a future Capo’s wife. But Greta wasn’t a girl who deserved to be an affair. She was a woman who deserved to be someone’s number one, their one and only queen.

She shivered again and a closer look revealed that her lips were turning bluish.

“You’re freezing, Greta. We need to do something about it.” I sat up straighter, weighing my options. “Would you feel comfortable putting your feet on my lap? I swear on my honor that I won’t touch you inappropriately in any way.”

The words left my mouth before I could process them. They just fell out, like that one biker’s glass eye when I’d slammed my ax into his head.

She wiggled her feet again, considering my lap. To think that Greta Falcone was currently staring at the spot where my dick was… “I think so,” she said slowly. She peered up, searching my eyes. I wasn’t sure what she was trying to see. Most of it was pure darkness and rage and violence, but I supposed if anyone could bear it then it was a Falcone. She shifted her body in my direction and propped those slender ankles up on my muscled thighs. Her heels loosely rested on my lap. For a moment I stared down at them. This moment felt so surreal, I briefly wondered if Nevio had actually managed to ram his knife into my body and I was caught in a strange limbo between life and death.

“Now what do we do about the rest of your body?” I mused. Suggesting she sat on my lap and let me embrace her was naturally the obvious choice but sanity hadn’t quite left me yet.

“You could give me your shirt,” she said as if it was nothing.

One of my brows edged up. “I’m not wearing anything beneath.”

“Oh,” she whispered, shaking her head. “That’ll definitely be too cold for you then.”

I wondered how she’d preserved this innocence living under a roof with the Madmen of Las Vegas.

I grabbed my shirt and tugged it out of my pants, then began to unbutton it. Greta followed my movements with utmost curiosity that slowly morphed to fascination when I parted my shirt, revealing my bare chest beneath. Her eyes roamed over my pecs and abs, leaving a hot trail on my skin with her gaze alone. Blood slowly filtered down to an area it had no business going while I was alone with this girl. I shrugged out of my shirt then leaned forward and draped it carefully over Greta’s shoulders. It was way too big for her, covering her thighs too. She pulled it tighter around herself and actually drew in a breath then peered up at me with a small, lovely smile. “Thank you. Your shirt smells good.”

“It smells like me,” I said as if my brain cells had left my skull.

She didn’t comment, only huddled happily in my shirt.

I couldn’t stop staring. The realization that Greta was covered by something I’d worn moments before and would soon smell like me…fuck, it made me feel so goddamn ecstatic.

She rested her cheek on her knees and let her eyes roam my body once more, lingering on the Famiglia tattoo over my heart.

“Is that your only tattoo?”

“It is and will always be.”

Her gaze dipped lower to the fine cuts across my ribs. I touched them, wondering why these exactly had caught her eye. I had more scars on my arms, belly, and back.

“They look pretty.”

That was the oddest thing anyone had ever said about my scars and a low chuckle burst out of me. “That’s Maximus’ special talent, creating pretty scars.”

She narrowed her eyes a fraction, as if she was trying to figure something out. “He was your friend.”

“He is my friend,” I corrected.

“He’s still your friend?”

“He is, he has similar scars from me, not as pretty of course,” I joked.

She laughed, and something stirred deep in the pit of my stomach and despite the cold in the cell, I felt fucking hot. “Why did you hurt each other?”

“We tortured each other to make us stronger. He’s going to be Enforcer under his father.”

“Oh. He’s my cousin.”

I always forgot that Maximus was related to the Falcones, that his father was Remo’s half-brother. Even now I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Dad had made sure I didn’t mention Growl or Maximus with a single word. Greta, however, didn’t sound as if she minded.

“Did it make you stronger?” she asked, sounding honestly curious.

“It did. But since we did this, he and I have battled against many enemies and braved far more pain than a friend’s knife.”

Her eyes drifted to the door, and she bit her lip. She wiggled her toes, but I doubted she realized it. I cupped them in my hands, feeling how icy they still felt. Her head swiveled around to me, her expression questioning.

I raised my hands. I shouldn’t have touched her without permission.

“No, it felt good.”

My chest swelled as I cupped her small feet again, hoping to warm them with my palms. “You handle my closeness better than I thought after you ran off screaming when you saw me.”

She tilted her head. Her expression was strained as if she was trying to solve a difficult equation, then she put down her chin on her knee again and drew in another deep breath of my shirt.

Fuck me.

“I don’t know what it’s about you, but…” She gave a small shrug and didn’t finish the sentence. Then her expression lit up in amusement. “And I didn’t run away from you. When you opened the door to my ballet studio, you let Momo escape. I tried to catch him. That’s why I ran so fast.”

I gave her a blank stare. What the hell was a Momo? She must have seen the question on my face because she continued.

“My dog. He’s terrified of everything and you are a very terrifying sight for a small dog.” She paused, “For most humans probably too.”

I shook my head, close to start laughing again.

“I hope he’s all right.”

“I’m sure he’s run to someone from your family.”

“He’s terrified of almost all of them.”

Clever dog.

“Maybe he went to Kiara but she’s in the library in her wing, so I doubt he could reach her.”

“He can’t escape the premises, can he?”

“No, but he could hurt himself trying to escape.” She sighed. “You’re lucky Bear wasn’t there with me in the studio. He would have attacked you. He’s a Cane Corso.”

I assumed that was a dog breed, but I had never heard of it despite my friendship with Maximus. His family had a dog shelter for abused animals. Rottweiler, Pittbulls, Bulldogs…

“If he is the size of a Rottweiler, I could have handled him.”

“By killing him?” The sad note in her voice made me shake my head.

“Only as a last resort. I have experience wrangling beasts like that. I’d have tried to throw him to the ground and hold him there. If he’s 120pounds top. I have a hundred pounds on him.”

“He’s all muscle.”

“Me too.”

She dragged her gaze over my muscles and a delicate blush tinged her cheeks. “Yeah.”

“Are you promised?” The word shot out of me faster than any bullet out of my semi-automatic.

Greta’s brows dipped like she couldn’t quite understand the question. Neither could I. “No,” she said it as if the answer was obvious. And maybe it was. Considering her crazy twin and the rest of the crazy Falcone bunch, you needed balls the size of Nevada to ask for Greta’s hand.

“I’ve never met someone who interested me like that.” She looked thoughtful for a moment before she peered up at my face again. “What about you? Are you promised?”

“No,” I said without thinking about it. Why was I lying? News about my engagement had certainly made the rounds in Vegas as well, and if I wasn’t mistaken the whole Falcone clan was invited to the wedding. On the other hand, she seemed like a girl who lived in a world of her own. She’d never been to one of the festivities in recent years. I wasn’t even sure if I had seen her before today.

Maybe she really didn’t know about me and Cressida. I wished I could keep it that way for reasons I didn’t have the patience to explore.

I had absolutely no clue how long we’d been locked in this cell. It felt like a blink and eternity at the same time, and I knew I never wanted it to end. Talking to Greta just felt right.

Her eyes settled on my face. “I never thought about kissing someone. But I think with you I could imagine having my first kiss one day.”

My body became taut, my heart thundering in my chest. I stared at her. She wasn’t flirting, her body language not inviting me to kiss her now, but her words had set off an avalanche in my body I had trouble holding back.

What the hell?

A click sounded and the keypad glowed red then green. The door swung open and Nino followed by a tall boy with honey-blond hair and piercing blue eyes, wearing a black muscle shirt that revealed the fucking Camorra tattoo and several other tattoos, came in. As if they’d practiced a choreography one of their eyebrows climbed their foreheads and the look in their eyes was like being plunged into ice water.

Here we go…