Chapter Three

Delilah

I nodded demurely at Serafino as he held open the front door for me. I didn't have to worry about him caring about me. We might be attracted to one another on some insanely high level, but I wasn't stupid enough to imagine he wouldn't happily discard me come morning.

Whatever.

Despite my profession being a risky one, my wellbeing and safety had always been high on my list of priorities. Self-preservation had carried me this far, I wouldn't allow anything or anyone to set me down on a path that was sign-posted self-destruct.

He put his arm around my waist as he led me deeper into the noise, the long-haired band members playing covers of rock songs like they were their own. Despite being unbalanced by the confrontation with Carlo, the music and the heady atmosphere brought my excitement back up a couple of notches.

I smiled up at Serafino and his dark eyes shone. He was clearly just as glad to have left the conversation outside behind and enjoy the moment with me. He lifted curled fingers to his mouth, imitating having a drink, before he nodded toward the bar.

I nodded back and mouthed, "I'd love one."

I rarely, if ever, drank on the job, but tonight was...different. Not only was it my last night in my profession but I was reaching for the stars with this man and was happy to break my sobriety this once.

One of the bar staff was already pouring him a whiskey when we arrived, and Serafino turned to me and leaned close to my ear to ask, "What would you like to drink?"

I put up two fingers, then mouthed, "I'll have what you're having."

He seemed delighted by my choice and I hid a smile. Did he think all women were champagne guzzlers? I might only imbibe occasionally, but when I did my bar at home attested to my expensive taste in both bourbon and scotch.

The band had broken into a slow rock ballad when Serafino nodded at the dancefloor. I giggled and nodded. If he wanted me to dance with him I was happy to oblige. As lovely as it was that he asked for my permission, he was paying me a hefty sum to obey his every whim.

He tipped his drink back and swallowed it down, and I followed suit, enjoying the burn as it went down my throat. The next minute he took my glass and set it down along with his own onto the bar top, then he plucked my clutch bag out of my hand. He handed it to the barman and said, "Look after this."

The barman nodded, then indicated he'd leave it under the bar.

Serafino drew me out onto the dancefloor where probably a dozen couples were already dancing. I didn't miss the raised eyebrows and shocked looks. Clearly he rarely danced, if at all.

I searched the fringes of the dancefloor and locked eyes with Evander. Going by his wide-eyed stare this was definitely new territory for Serafino.

Then Serafino took me in his arms and I closed my eyes as I pressed against his hard chest. Swaying across the dancefloor didn't seem too overly complicated for him, not when he probably hunted like a silent and deadly, apex predator.

Another little thrill shot through me. What was wrong with me? I should despise men like him, instead I basked in his power, in the fact he'd never answer to anyone except his don, and perhaps his consigliere and underboss.

I looked up at him. He blinked, his brilliant eyes gauging, assessing. Had he read my worshipful gaze? Thanks to my profession, he probably thought it was all an act. Perhaps not. A second later his gaze darkened and he bent his head and kissed me again.

Damn. His dominant mouth only heightened the intensity between us, the simmering passion. If our first kiss had been a Fourth of July explosion, this kiss was just as heady. He knew exactly what he was doing. I didn't even care about all the eyes on us. Though he'd done very little dancing in public, I'd bet he'd more than kissed other women in public.

A sharp, stabbing pain— jealousy?— had me jerk my head back, my eyes wide as I searched his.

He frowned, his hands tightening on my waist. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I lied, before adding truthfully, "I-I'm feeling things I probably shouldn't."

His hard face softened, his voice gentle when he leaned closer and said into my ear, "You're not alone, my little firebird."

Firebird? I shivered at the pet name that was clearly symbolic of my fiery red hair.

He pulled back and I blinked up at him, wanting to believe him, needing to believe him. The people in my life hadn't left me brimming with belief in human nature; everyone close to me had either abandoned me or hated on me.

At least I could leave clients behind without any regrets. They were strangers, men I'd been physically intimate with while keeping my emotions safely locked away. That Serafino was becoming less safe every minute I spent with him was making me a little uneasy even as I reveled in the sensation.

I was finally letting down my walls and I wasn't exactly sure how I felt about it. Serafino wasn't the most prudent option. Was my subconscious attracted to him solely because no one would dare mess with him?

That he seemed as fixated with me as I was with him only made me more drawn to him.

You'll be with him for one night only, and who knows how violent he might become in the bedroom with no one else around.

My breath shuddered out. I'd heard the rumors. The Agostino mafia men weren't known for their gentlemanly acts with women. I'd heard their father, Lorenzo, had been the worst of them all. Though I had no idea how he'd died, I was only grateful he was no longer alive to terrorize any more women.

Sex was one thing I couldn't lose control of. It'd become something I could count on, the one thing I could command. Though it might have lost its charm, it'd never lost its power. My clients might think they were in charge, but I was the one they wanted, the woman they'd do anything to own, even just for a few hours.

I'd never felt that way more strongly than I did with this man. He wanted me on a level that was higher than the moon. It was oddly intoxicating and addicting, even as I wished not to experience such intensity and passion on the last day of my profession. I didn't want to walk away second-guessing anything.

I wanted a clean slate, my past forgotten.

This man was blurring those lines and making me want the impossible.

I needed to steer clear of him and his family. After tonight I intended to do just that.

I managed a smile. "We make a good team," I conceded. I forced brightness into my voice. "I'm going to enjoy our time together."

I'd redrawn the line between us, reminding him that tonight was all we had, all we'd ever had.

He nodded, though I sensed my words had dimmed his fervor ever so slightly. I imagined, like me, he hadn't been thinking about our force of nature coming to an end anytime soon.

"I'll make sure of that," he finally vowed. He pulled me closer, so close our bodies almost merged. "Every time you fuck some other guy, it will be me you'll be thinking about. It will be us you'll be remembering together."

I trembled a little at the conviction and ferocity of his words. I wouldn't tell him that after tonight—after him—there wouldn't be any more clients. I dared not give him further ammunition to use in his fight to make me crave him alone.

Not that he gave me a chance to talk. He drew my head up and covered my mouth with his as he kissed me into an oblivion I never wanted to extract myself from. Pleasure fired up my synapses and burned through my body, my temperature rising fast.

He drew back only to lift me into his arms and carry me off the dancefloor. I clung onto his nape, a thrill shooting through me as my pulse thudded in my ears. His hair brushed my hands as he stalked toward a set of elevator doors. He punched a button to one side of a wall and the doors slid open, then as quickly closed behind us.

He looked down at me, his grip tightening. "If we didn't have men watching every part of this house except the bedrooms and bathrooms, I'd gladly take you in the elevator."

"A bunch of perverts would stop you?" I asked breathlessly.

His stare darkened. "Normally, no, it wouldn't. But you're worth more to me than that, and I don't mean how much I paid to have you."

My whole body tingled. I'd never been valued above the fee for my time, not ever. Yet here was this hard—literally—mobster man making me feel priceless in every way, shape and form.

"I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone," he said roughly, but with so much sincerity, I almost melted in his arms.

"I feel the same way," I admitted in a low voice. That I meant every word and it wasn't part of my high price escort persona was everything to me. I couldn't remember the last time I'd actually wanted a man so unreservedly.

The doors slid open with a hiss. As he carried me down a corridor he explained, "I have my own wing inside this house, though I rarely stay here anymore. I'm usually at my own premises in the city, unless I'm here for business purposes."

"Or parties?" I added as I distantly noted the exquisite art on the walls, the abstract sculptures that would be worth a small fortune.

He nodded. "Yeah, or for that. As a mobster family we have to be seen as a united front."

"From my perspective you and your brothers appear to genuinely care about one another."

He nodded, then sighed heavily and admitted, "We do. It's never far from our minds that we've already lost one brother, we can't lose another."

"I'm so sorry," I said softly. "I can't imagine what you've been through."

He grimaced. "That our brother-in-law was the killer doesn't help matters."

I gaped, recalling the blond-haired Salvatore who'd worshipped his wife, Isabella. His adoration towards Serafino's sister had clearly blocked me from sensing his cold-blooded nature. "You're serious?"

"Unfortunately, I am." He nodded at a pair of soldiers standing in front of a large, carved door. They immediately left their post guarding Serafino's wing of the house. He pushed the door open and stepped inside with me still in his arms. "Not that any of us blame Salvatore for what he did after our father killed his mother. Blood for blood is the mafia motto we live and die by."

My heart did a crazy little jig at his confession. I sensed few people knew what he'd told me. Not that it really mattered. The mafia was above the law, above everyone. It didn't mean he and his family were immune to rival families, like the Irish mafia Carlo had warned him about.

I arched a brow. "Is dismissing those guards a good idea? If a war really is imminent—"

"I want you all to myself," he interjected. "I don't want those buffoons to overhear...anything."

My skin tingled even as my soul shriveled a little. What kind of noises would his men have overheard? Screams of pain or ecstasy?

"And they're still keeping guard, just not right at the front of my door."

I relaxed a little. He wouldn't have stayed alive for as long as he had without being careful.

He bent and placed me on my feet, his hair sliding forward. "I liked you in my arms."

"I liked being in your arms," I admitted huskily. Especially with my legs now so shaky and unbalanced. I clung onto his forearm, my laugh strained, nervous. "Perhaps I shouldn't have had that drink."

He cocked his head to the side, his eyes narrowed. "What's really going on, Delilah?"