Chapter Four

Athena

"Stop stalling and go in," I mutter, trying to coax myself out of the car for the fifth time since I parked in the garage outside Diego's office. It's not working. I tossed and turned all night, mad as hell about how our meeting yesterday ended. Mad that I let him touch me. Mad that he was right. Mad that part of me didn't hate it.

This morning, I dressed myself in outrage and painted myself for war…only to lose my nerve as soon as his building came into view. It's ridiculous. I'm not a little girl, and I don't fall at any man's feet. Especially not one like Diego Butera.

He's responsible for more death and destruction than I can count. He's helped more criminals in this city escape justice than I can even fathom. Maybe he had an identity crisis for a while there and tried to do the right thing. Maybe talking to us was all part of whatever game he's playing. Whatever the reason, he's clearly back to his old way.

If I needed any proof of that, I got it last night. He had dinner with Rafe Valentino. It doesn't matter if they are family by marriage. He chose his side, and it isn't ours. It's theirs. The mafia's. Diego Butera is one of them, and he always will be.

"You going to sit out here all morning, bella?"

"Jesus!" I practically jump out of my seat when his velvet voice sounds right outside my driver's side window. My arm comes down on the horn, blowing a sharp blast that echoes through the garage in a distorted wave. I jump again, my nerves on edge.

Diego notices. A smirk stretches across his handsome face, wicked humor reflecting in his eyes. "Distracted thinking about me, goddess?"

"You wish." I roll my eyes, scowling at him.

"I do," he says so softly I almost don't hear the words at all. His gaze drops, rolling over me like a heatwave.

I fight the urge to lay my arms across my chest to hide my hard nipples, refusing to give him the satisfaction. "My eyes are up here, Butera," I growl, snapping my fingers instead.

He slowly lifts his gaze, his smirk growing. "I'm aware, Athena. But I wasn't looking for your eyes. I was imagining what your tits look like in that pretty little top. I'll be fucking my hand to the fantasy later."

I grab the door handle, shoving it open hard enough to send him reeling back a step when it connects with his thigh. He doesn't even flinch, the bastard. His laughter floats through the garage, lifting little hairs at the nape of my neck.

I grab my bag and slide from the car, scowling up at him the entire time as if that'll keep him from coming too close. Let's be real, though. Diego Butera is a wild animal. And I think I may be his prey.

It's supposed to be the other way around. I'm supposed to be the hunter. He's supposed to be the hunted. That's the way law enforcement works. But this man hasn't been hunted a day in his life. He's never run from anyone or anything. He's in charge, and he knows it. I won't win in a power struggle. We both know I don't even stand a chance.

But I'm not helpless against him, either. He may overpower me, but he can't outwit me. He wants something from me, and that makes him vulnerable, too. If he wants to play cat and mouse, I'll let him play. He can chase me, corner me, and tease me all he wants. But every time he thinks he's caught me, he'll find out just how wrong he is.

"Keep dreaming, Butera," I say sweetly, batting my lashes as I step right up to him, so close I feel the heat of his body against mine. "You'll never touch me. I'll never belong to you. I'm not a toy for you to play with until you get bored." I meet his gaze. "You don't scare me."

He growls, reaching for me, but I quickly sidestep him, putting distance between us. "Remember you said that when I have you screaming that you belong to me so loud your voice breaks, Athena," he warns me. "Remember it when I teach you just how much you like being my obedient little toy."

"Whatever you say," I call over my shoulder, heading toward the elevators. "Which way to your office, Butera? I don't have all day."

He mutters something behind me in Italian, and then his footsteps echo across the garage. Within seconds, he's at my side, striding toward the elevator. The bottom of his coat brushes my hand, sending a shiver through me. If he notices, he doesn't say anything.

He doesn't speak again until we're crowded onto the elevator, our reflections bouncing back at us from every direction. We don't fit together…the petite, curvy African-American federal agent and the tall, muscular Italian criminal. We're opposites in every way. His reflection screams danger. Mine promises sunshine and sweetness. And yet, we look good together, as if maybe we don't fit together so oddly after all.

"You look incredible," he murmurs as if reading my mind. "Pink is your color."

"Black suits you." I lift my brows, sending him a pointed look as the elevator shudders to a start. "Very devilish."

"You think I'm the devil, bella?"

"If the horns fit." I shrug, adjusting my bag over my arm.

He throws his head back, laughing loudly. "I'm merely a lawyer, Athena. I believe we're still a few levels above Satan."

"Perhaps. But I believe murderers are on the same level, are they not?" I meet his gaze, unflinching. "What about serial murderers? Surely they've reached a special level of hell."

"Ah. And how many murders do you think I've committed?"

"By my count? Close to twenty. By the FBI's count? Fewer than that," I admit. "But I'm sure we're both missing a few names on our lists." I tip my head to the side, eyeing him critically. "You could do me a favor and give them to me."

"Well, there was Napoleon last year." He taps his lips. "And I believe Rasputin the year before that. Bin Laden may be on the list too, but I'd have to check with the military on that one."

"I suppose you want to claim credit for Hitler, too, while you're at it?"

"Might as well." He shrugs magnanimously.

"Cute. Real cute." I scowl at him. "What about Tommaso Genovese? Giovani Barone? Carlo Mancini? Salvatore Leone?"

The elevator grinds to a halt on the top floor, vibrating beneath my feet. I throw my hand out, grasping at the wall to steady myself. At least, I mean to press my hand against the wall. Instead, I grab a handful of Diego's fancy coat and tie.

"Sor–" I move to snatch my hand away as soon as I feel the steady thump of his heart beneath my fingers.

Faster than I can process, he has me by the wrist, crowding me up against the wall. His lips rake down the side of my throat as he cranes my head back with his free hand. His erection grinds against my ass, hard and hot and heavy.

Good grief. He's massive.

"Next time you touch me, you better be prepared for what comes next, bella," he growls, nipping my throat. "I'm not some little boy you can tease. You fuck with me; I'll have you on your back, begging me to keep fucking you."

"It was an accident."

"Yeah?" His tongue wraps around my earlobe as he grinds his erection into me again. "Lie to yourself, Athena. Don't lie to me. You grabbed exactly what you intended to grab."

Did I? Am I lying to myself?

"It was an accident," I growl again, using his hold on my wrist to yank him into me. The unexpected move gives me a split second. I jab my elbow into his ribcage and then bring my heel down on his foot as hard as I can.

"Cazzo!" he swears, grabbing for me as I slip away from him. His eyes glitter with anger and something darker as he spins to face me…some twisted desire that sends a wave of lava straight into my veins.

God help me. This man likes it rough. He lives for the pain. And I think he has every intention of teaching me to love it too.

"Don't touch me again, Diego," I warn him. "Next time, I'll shoot you in the freaking leg."

He doesn't say anything as he straightens his suit and pushes the button to open the elevator doors. We just stare at each other, locked in some silent battle of wills, neither willing to back down, neither willing to admit defeat.

"Don't make threats you aren't willing to follow through on, Athena," he says as the doors open. "Someday, it may cost you more than you're willing to lose."

"What does that mean?" I demand, following him off the elevator.

"It means you're lucky I'm a gentleman, or I'd be demonstrating how little you meant that threat," he says over his shoulder.

"I meant i…" I trail off as we emerge into his office, blinking. I knew he was a high-powered attorney. He works for the mafia, for God's sake. But holy cow. His office drips wealth, making no secret of the fact that it's intended to leave a lasting impression on those who step through the doors. Expensive art hangs from the walls, with leather-bound legal reference books scattered artfully around shelves. One entire wall is dominated by a smartboard and conference table. The other houses his desk, with views of the city and Lake Michigan glittering below.

"Your elevator leads directly to your office?"

"Perks of the jobs," he says, striding toward the door to the outer office. He pokes his head out, conversing quietly with a man seated at the desk there. I've been keeping an eye on the building for the last several days…long enough to know Diego's secretary is Ricci Morano, one of Rafe Valentino's lieutenants.

I take a minute to get my bearings. Not that it does me much good. I knew Diego was wealthy. His clients are some of the richest criminals in the world. But I don't think I understood exactly what that meant until just now. He isn't simply well-off. He's obscenely rich, judging by the looks of this place.

Why did he start passing intel to the FBI? I thought maybe it was a crisis of morality, but judging by this place, I'd say he has no problems with the things they do. He certainly doesn't seem to have any problems lining his pockets with their dirty money. So what does that leave?

Amalia. It leaves Amalia. Whatever happened, whatever led him to us, I think it involves her.

The door closes with a click, sending my heart into overdrive.

I watch him warily as he strides toward his desk, yanking his jacket off as he goes.

"I believe you had questions for me," he says, motioning for me to come to him. "You might as well ask so we can get this whole farce out of the way."

"What farce?" I cross toward him.

"You playing the dutiful little FBI agent. Me evading your questions. Both of us ignoring why you're really here." Another devilish smile dances at his lips. "Isn't that precisely how this is going to go, goddess?"

"I'm not playing at anything, Diego. I am an FBI agent."

"But not a dutiful one."

I stop behind the wingback leather chair situated across from his desk. "You may like to break the rules and the law, but not everyone has the same audacious lack of regard for the rule of law."

He tips his head to the side, regarding me in silence. "You think I have no regard for the rule of law?"

"Yes. Precisely."

"You're mistaken, Athena," he says quietly. "I hold the law in high regard. I just happen to be bound by oaths far older and far more unforgiving. The rule of law only works for those who work within it. For those who don't, it's an ineffective means of control. Ours are far more…persuasive."

"At least you're still willing to admit the mafia exists," I mutter, dropping heavily into the chair across from him. I set my bag on the floor at my feet, straightening. "Most of you refuse to even do that."

"Alexa, what's the mafia?" he says, humor dancing in his eyes.

I narrow mine at him, making him chuckle.

"I was an informant, Athena. We're past me pretending the mafia isn't real."

"Why did you decide to start sharing information?" I lean back, placing my hands in my lap as if we're having a polite conversation.

"It suited my purposes."

"And what were those purposes?"

"To share certain information."

"And cooperating no longer suits your purposes?"

"Astute observation, bella." He grins at me, not taking this seriously at all.

"Stop calling me that."

"Why?" His brows wing together. "And don't dare say because it isn't true, or you'll feel the sting of my hand against your gorgeous ass before you can scream for help."

"Because…because it's inappropriate," I manage to stutter, caught off-guard by his response yet again. He keeps doing that, saying things I don't expect, doing things I'm not prepared for him to do. There is no finding my footing with this man when he yanks the rug out from beneath me every time I think I'm finally on solid ground again.

I don't have to ask him if he means it to know he does. He thinks I'm beautiful. When is the last time someone said that to me? Aside from Cornerstore Joe, who shouts it every morning when I walk past, it's been a while. I know I'm not an ugly duckling, but I've never put in effort, either. Putting in effort in this line of work is just asking for trouble.

Beautiful women aren't taken seriously in male-dominated careers. Someone inevitably asks them out, and then things get complicated, awkward, and weird at the office. I wanted to avoid all of that, especially since I'm one of very few women in this field office. So, I rarely wear more than a coat of mascara, and my hair is usually pulled back in a bun. I'm cute on a good day.

"The truth is inappropriate?" he asks, playing dumb even though he's far from that.

"You know what I mean, Diego. Calling me pet names isn't appropriate. We aren't friends. We aren't dating. I'm here in an official capacity. You're under investigation."

"For what, precisely?" He cocks a brow. "Your people did nothing with any of the intel I gave them. Why the hell would I continue wasting my time and risking myself?"

"Building cases takes time. You know this."

"And what happens in the meantime, bella?" he asks. "People die bloody. Wars and conflicts continue. Street life goes on the same as always. The wheels of justice turn so goddamn slowly they might as well not turn at all where we're concerned. By the time your people get around to dealing with a problem, we've already handled it and five others."

"Is that what happened to Tommaso Genovese? You handled him?"

"Someone did." Diego shrugs. "Like I told you yesterday, he was a rabid dog. He got put down like a rabid dog. That's how the mafia law works, bella."

"Who killed him, Diego?"

"He killed himself."

I growl in frustration. "He didn't commit suicide, and you know he didn't."

"Everything is black and white to you," he says with a shake of his head. "I didn't say he committed suicide. I said he killed himself. His actions got him killed, bella. He knew what he risked when he did the things he did. He chose to do them anyway. You know the risks and assume the consequences if you fail. And you don't betray your own people. That's mafia law, Athena. He broke it. He reaped what he sowed, the same as anyone else who does the same."

"Who did he betray?" He has pieces I'm missing, and knows things I don't. But he's talking around them, leaving giant holes in the middle that leave the picture muddied and unclear. "Explain it to me, Diego. I can't help you if you don't."

"I don't recall asking for your help, bella." A slow smirk overtakes his face as his gaze roves down my body. "Not with that anyway. If you want to discuss the other thing, however…."

"Fine, let's discuss that then." I hop to my feet, knocking my bag over in the process. My clumsy fingers go to the buttons on my jacket, slipping them through the holes.

"What are you doing, goddess?" For the first time, he seems wary as he watches me.

"Since you want to see them so badly, we might as well get it over with." I strip my arms out of the jacket, frustrated and flustered and running on pure annoyance. I have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm out of ideas here. I drop the jacket in the chair, leaving me in nothing but a skirt and slinky blouse. "Is this what you wanted to see, Diego?"

"Not quite," he murmurs, his gaze locked on my chest. "But it's a start." His tongue touches his bottom lip before his eyes drift up to mine. "Your nipples are hard."

"I'm cold," I lie. "Who did Genovese betray?"

"Liar. You aren't cold. You want me." He shifts around in his chair, his hands disappearing from sight. "He betrayed his own people. Half of those bodies you're trying so hard to pin on me belong to him. Pinch your nipples, Athena. Let me see how you like to be touched."

"You're saying he killed his own people?"

"Pinch your nipples," he growls at me.

My stomach clenches, heat washing through me. That menacing growl is sexy as hell. It's also one I won't be obeying. This isn't how I want to get my answers. This isn't who I am. I won't pretend to be that woman, not even for every secret he holds.

"Don't tell me what to do, Diego. I don't answer to you." I toss my head, sending him a haughty look. "Right now, you answer to me. In case you forgot, I'm the one holding the key to your freedom in my hand, not the other way around."

"And I hold your safety in mine."

I hold my arms out wide, making myself a target. "Take a shot then."

"Busy," he growls.

Only then do I realize he still has his hands under the desk. Only then do I see the sweat beaded along his forehead and how he moves.

My legs tremble, shock and desire crashing together like cymbals in my chest. "Diego, are you…?" I can't bring myself to finish the question.

He doesn't answer. Instead, he pushes away from the desk, rising to his feet with his fist wrapped around his massive erection.

I grasp onto the back of the chair to keep myself upright.

"Watch me while I do it, bella," he demands, unrepentant and unashamed. "You're the reason he's this fucking hard."

I stare at his erection, transfixed by how he grips himself in his fist. He's rough with himself, squeezing tight as he works his hand over his cock, getting himself off. I've never been with a man before. Dating hasn't ever been a priority in my life. But I have seen porn. And he certainly measures up.

"D-does it hurt?" I whisper, my tongue skirting across my bottom lip as I watch him. My heart hammers against my ribcage, sending pulse after pulse of desire pinging through my veins. I shouldn't be watching this. I shouldn't allow this to happen. And yet my feet are rooted to the ground. And yet, I can't look away. I don't want to look away.

"Fuck yes," he rasps. "The only thing that will make it any better is getting inside you. Once you're choking on my cock or coming all over it, the pain will stop. Until then, this is as close to heaven as I'll ever get."

"Diego, I…" I want to touch it. Let me help you.

I say neither of those things.

"Pinch your nipples, bella. Let me hear you moaning for me," he grits out.

This time, I give him what he wants. Because, this time, there are no reciprocals attached. This isn't about getting answers now. It's not about using my body to get what I want. This is simply about me and him and the current seething between us. It's dark and malevolent and may just burn us both to ash…but it's vast and powerful all the same.

"Goddamn," he groans, his fist flying over his erection as my hands close over my breasts, pushing them together. "I can't wait to get my dick between those."

I run my thumbs over my nipples, gasping as little sparks shoot straight to my clit. The sensation is heightened, more intense than usual. I pinch, rolling both nipples between my thumbs and forefingers.

"Feels good, doesn't it, goddess?"

"Yes," I gasp, unable to deny the truth. Everything about this is wrong, but I love the way it feels. It's our own little secret, something no one ever has to know. I won't tell them that he jerked off in front of me. He won't tell them that I loved every minute of it. We'll go back to our lives like it never happened, united only by this one moment in time.

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

I cram that little voice down into the deep, dark recesses of my mind, rolling my nipples between my fingers again.

"Fuck, come here."

I stumble toward him on trembling legs, unable to resist the allure of his gritty voice and torrid gaze. They're enthralling, pulling me deeper under his spell. I stumble to a stop on the far side of his desk, an arm's length from him.

He closes the space between us, pulling me up against him. His mouth comes down on mine. I gasp in shock. It's the only invitation he needs to slip beneath my defenses. His tongue dips into my mouth, his kiss hot and hard, full of searing passion.

I cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders, heart beating a thousand miles a minute. He annihilates me with a single kiss, laying my entire world to waste. And he does it with his cock in his hand, the hard ridge of it caught between us. I feel him gripping it, feel every move he makes.

He kisses me until I bow beneath him and break.

His other hand slips beneath the hem of my skirt. He doesn't ask permission. We both know he doesn't have to ask, damn him. It's his to take…and we both know that, too.

"Diego!" I gasp, choking on his name as he slips my panties to the side, touching me for the first time. I'm drenched, shamefully so. And already trembling on the edge of a massive orgasm.

"Oh, bella. Look how wet you are," he breathes against my lips. "You're going to make it real easy to take what belongs to me, aren't you?"

"I…I…"

He parts my folds with a fingertip, running it in a circle around my clit. "Come before I decide to see how good you look on your knees with my dick down your perfect throat, Athena," he demands, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth. He grinds his thumb against my clit, relentlessly, ruthlessly pushing me toward the edge of the cliff.

I push against his shoulders, trying like hell to get him to do…something. Stop? Go slower? Give me a minute to catch my breath? I don't know. I just know the world is spinning, and I have no idea which way is up. But he's ruthless in his quest to make me come.

"Come, bella. Don't make me say it again." His teeth sink into my lip in a stinging bite. "I'm not the kind of man who asks nicely. If I have to say it again, it'll be with you on your back and my hand around your throat."

I shout his name as pain mingles with pleasure, tossing me over the edge. My legs go weak. The world goes black. I lose my voice and mind simultaneously as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me, drowning me in euphoria.

Diego groans, canting his hips away. A few seconds later, wetness splashes against my abdomen, and I realize why. He's coming, too. I peel my eyes open in time to see the searing look of possession stamped across his face.

God help me. This man will consume me if I let him. He'll lead me into the dark and destroy me if I let him. And for a moment… I can't think of a single reason not to let him. Not even one.

For the first time since I was assigned this case, I know fear. Real fear.

It drives me as I stumble away from him, bumping into the desk.

"Athena."

"Stay away from me," I whisper, throwing my hands up to ward him off. "Don't even think about touching me, Diego." I scurry backward away from the desk, keeping a wary eye on him as I stoop to grab my bag from the floor.

He watches me, trying to clean his hands off and tuck himself back into his pants simultaneously. "Athena, what…?"

I grab my bag and hurry toward the door, fleeing like the hounds of hell are chasing me. When he shouts my name, I'm not entirely convinced they aren't. But I manage to throw myself into the elevator and stab the button to close the doors before he catches me.

My last sight of him is of his thunderous expression as he strides across the office toward me, my name still on his lips. And then the doors close, granting me safety.

At least for the moment.