Chapter Six

Athena

"I'll do it. But I want proof that you mean it," I demand, staring at Diego across the claustrophobic interview room. "You have to give me something."

I've spent weeks pouring over his file. He's smart, calculating, and methodical. There's always a reason behind everything he does, some bigger plan in the works. I think it's been that way his entire life.

He put himself through law school with a purpose. He came to the FBI with a purpose. And he quit informing for a reason. If he's offering to talk now, it's not simply because he wants to spend twenty-four hours with me. He's up to something.

Yet again, he holds all the cards, and I'm stumbling in the dark.

It's not a comfortable position to be in with a man like him, but it's quickly becoming the status quo.

"Have you looked into what I told you about Genovese?"

"Maybe." I have, and he wasn't lying. Genovese's grandson more or less confirmed the intel.

Diego jerks his chin in a nod. "He wanted the Valentinos to think I killed them, and wanted the other families to believe Valentino ordered their executions."

"Why?" I demand, my heart pounding.

"You already know the answer to that question, bella," he says quietly. "I told you the day we met."

He was a rabid dog. He was born a rabid dog and died a rabid dog.

"He wanted war?"

"He wanted the throne." Hatred flickers in Diego's obsidian eyes. "And he was willing to do anything to get it."

"Including starting a war," I say, nodding. Of course. That's how we missed it. It was a power grab, planned in secret until he was ready to strike. Nothing short of removing Tommaso Genovese from the board would have stopped it. "Why you?" I scrutinize Diego's expression, looking for any sign that he's not being honest with me. "Why did he want the Valentinos to think you were behind the deaths?"

"My place, seven tonight," he says. "I'll tell you then."

"I'm not sleeping with you."

"Who said anything about sleeping?" He smirks. "A deal is a deal, bella."

That's precisely the problem. A deal is a deal…and I'm pretty sure I just made one with the devil. So why don't I regret it?

Because you like him, a little voice whispers.

It's right, dammit. I do like him. Far more than I should.

I've spent the last few days trying to convince myself that I don't. That I can't. That I won't. And yet as soon as I saw him standing in the lobby today, my heart leaped into my throat. I felt the same thrill I did in his office the other morning when he had his hand in my panties and his lips on my skin.

We're playing a dangerous game, and one of us is going to lose. I'm pretty sure it's going to be me. He's been playing it a lot longer than I have. He's perfected it at this point, and I'm only just learning the rules.

But I want to play anyway.

God help me, I don't think I could stop myself even if I tried.

What's that saying about playing with fire? If you do it, you'll get burned? Well, I seem to like the pain. He has me under his spell, and I don't want to break it. I know what that says about me. I know what that means for my career. But right and wrong don't seem so black and white anymore.

Diego isn't a good man, but he isn't evil, either. He's that gray area in between…the shadow standing between light and true darkness. Without men like him, men like Tommaso Genovese win. If that makes him a monster…well, at least he's one that targets other monsters.

Whatever he wants from me, whatever game he's playing here…I have to believe he's playing it for a reason. Trusting him is dangerous, but not trusting him? Well, that seems pretty impossible right now, too.

I should have stayed in cybercrimes. Scammers were far less exhausting than this.

"I'll be there," I blurt. For better or worse, my decision is made.

Diego's expression softens. A ghost of a smile crosses his face. He seems…relieved. And then he blinks, and the arrogant, debonair lawyer is back in full force. "See you tonight, goddess," he murmurs, winking.

"Wait." I push away from the table to follow behind him. "I have to walk you out. You can't be wandering around the building alone."

"Ah. Of course, we wouldn't want that."

"Butera was here."

I look up from my computer as Dennis Respert barges into my office without knocking. The sweat beading on his forehead shines under the fluorescent lights. The man is always sweating. Even when he's sitting still, he's sweating. It's seriously off-putting.

I sit perfectly still, praying he doesn't know what went down in the interview room. If he ever finds out, I won't have to fail to be fired. I'll be out immediately. I'm sleeping with the enemy, a suspect. There are some rules that are inviolable. That's one of them. Not even agents deep undercover can break it without consequence.

I've broken it twice now.

"Why was he here?"

"I asked him to come in," I lie, saving my document.

"And he came?" Dennis's brows climb toward his receding hairline. "Just like that?"

"No, sir." If he thinks anything is that easy with Diego, he clearly doesn't know anything about him. The man was probably born being difficult. "It took a little convincing."

"Well? Did he give you anything?" he demands.

"I still need to check out a few things to see if the information he gave was legitimate, but I believe it is."

A week ago, I would have loved to rub in his face that Diego talked to me when no one else has been able to get a word out of him that didn't begin with an f-bomb and end with you. But it doesn't feel the same now. Perhaps because I don't know what game Diego is playing. What does he want from me badly enough that he's willing to spill his secrets?

Nothing good, I'm sure.

And the saddest thing about it? Even if I told Dennis about my deal with Diego, he wouldn't stop me from going. The man would throw me in front of a speeding bus if it made him look good.

"Well? What do you have, White?" he barks. "I don't have all day."

I carefully close my document, buying myself time before I turn to face him. "Tommaso Genovese killed his own men last year."

"Right," Dennis scoffs.

"I believe the intel is good, sir. It aligns with the information I've gleaned from other sources."

"Why the fuck would he kill his own people, White?"

"That's the intel I need to confirm."

He eyes me sideways. "How'd you get him to talk?"

I take a deep breath, trying to keep calm at the way he emphasizes you, as if I'm the last person who should have been able to get Diego to talk.

I made a deal with the devil, sir.

"What do you mean?" I ask, playing dumb.

"He hasn't talked to anyone, but he's talking to you?" Dennis narrows his gray eyes at me. "What did you offer him?"

Just my soul, sir.

"Nothing," I lie. "I guess he just feels more comfortable with me."

"Right," Dennis snorts, leering at my chest. "I'm sure that's it."

I curl my hands into tight fists, battling the urge to throw my coffee mug at his sexist, chauvinistic head. I'm not sure what infuriates me more. The fact that he thinks he has a right to say it…or the fact that he's not entirely wrong.

Diego isn't talking because he trusts me. He isn't even talking because I'm good at my job. He's talking because he wants something from me. And to prove this man wrong, I'm going to give it to him.

I don't even regret it. That's how much I loathe this man. That's how much I want him to lose. I just have to keep from losing myself in the process.

"You're late," Diego growls, yanking open the door to his penthouse apartment at ten minutes after seven. His obsidian eyes are on fire as they rake over me like coals. He ditched his jacket and tie, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. "You were supposed to be here at seven."

"Yes, well, you're the one who lives in one of the busiest parts of Chicago. You have no one to blame but yourself if traffic held me up." I arch a brow, my hands planted on my hips. "Are you going to keep me out here complaining about it, or are you going to invite me in?"

A lazy smile dances across his handsome face as he holds the door open wide. "Come, bella."

I fight the urge to shiver, his quiet command recalling memories of us in his office earlier this week when he growled the same thing. The man has a way with words. Then again, doesn't the devil usually have a silver tongue?

"This is nice," I murmur, peering around in interest. His apartment takes up most of the top floor of the building. Unlike my place in Beverly, it screams hedonistic luxury. One entire wall is a bank of windows overlooking Lake Michigan. Masculine furniture rests on expensive rugs and hardwood floors, with tasteful artwork hanging on the walls.

"You look more than nice," he says, coming up behind me.

I fight the urge to lean back against him. Fight the urge to turn to him. I fight every instinct compelling me to entangle myself further with this man. If this were the animal kingdom, I'd be dead already. My sense of survival is clearly non-existent. It pushes me toward danger instead of away from it.

"Thank you."

His arms surround me, pulling me back against his chest. His head rests against mine as he pulls in a deep breath, groaning. "Fuck. You drive me crazy, bella."

I melt into him despite myself, heat coursing through me. What is it about him that is so fascinating to me? Why does he make me want to forsake everything I thought I knew? It's madness, and yet I feel it percolating in my blood anyway, growing stronger every time I see him.

"I thought we agreed you weren't going to touch me," I manage to say.

"Did we?" His hands skim up and down my sides, sending waves of desire washing through me. "I don't recall agreeing to this, goddess."

"I'm not going to prostitute myself for answers, Diego." I spin to face him, trying like hell to resist the ache deep in my belly. It only grows when his expression darkens with anger. "If you thought that's why I came, you were wrong."

"Taking what you want doesn't make you a puttana, Athena," he says, disapproval heavy in his voice. "Do you think I think so little of you?"

"I don't know what you think." I throw my hands up, frustrated. "What game are you playing, Diego? You really expect me to believe you're willing to spill secrets that could land you in prison, just to spend twenty-four hours with me?" I eye him sideways. "I'm not that na?ve."

"Ah, I see." He strides across the living room as he speaks. "So it's not me you think so little of. It's yourself."

I gape after him. "That's not true."

"Isn't it?" He crosses into the kitchen, rolling up his shirtsleeves as he goes. "Anyone not willing to take a little gamble for twenty-four hours of your time is a fucking idiot, bella."

"A little gamble?" I laugh in disbelief, stomping after him. "You're talking about giving me everything I need to send you to prison, Diego. That's not a little gamble. That's like betting the entire freaking far…Ahh!" I scream as he grabs hold of me as soon as I cross the threshold into the kitchen, pressing me up against the wall.

His lips come down on mine, his kiss skillful and demanding. He holds me prisoner, subduing me as if it's no trouble at all. I fight him, trying to throw him off me, but he's an implacable wall, refusing to budge. All my training is useless against him.

"Behave, little girl," he growls, his hand around my throat. "You can't beat me."

"Let me go, Diego. Now."

"Not until you kiss me back."

"Go to hell."

"I'm already there, bella. I've been burning every minute since I met you." The ragged confession is too honest to be a line. He means it.

"You think I haven't?" I swallow hard. "You're everything I shouldn't want, and yet I'm here anyway."

"Then stop fucking fighting me and kiss me. I won't say it a third time, Athena."

I stop fighting and tip my face back in frustrated submission. He grunts his approval, brushing his lips across mine again before his tongue dips into my mouth. I try like hell not to lose myself to his kiss, not to lose myself to him as he annihilates my self-control all over again, taking it to the breaking point.

Potent desire turns to something deeper, something darker. I have no name for it, but I feel it brewing like a storm in my soul. Calling out to him. Calling out for him, perhaps.

I want to hate him. I want to rage at him. Instead, I hand him a little piece of my soul.

"You're worth the risk," he groans, resting his forehead against mine when he finally breaks the kiss. "Don't ever fucking doubt that again."

I lick my lips, trying to collect my thoughts. He scattered them to the winds, leaving me reeling. I don't even remember what we were arguing about. That's how dangerous he is to me.

God, what am I doing?