Chapter 9

CLEO

S unlight warmed my closed eyelids, teasing me from sleep.

My eyes snapped open, squinting against the intrusive brightness, adrenaline coursing through me.

Heart pounding, I scrambled upright, breath quickening, confusion clouding my thoughts.

What time was it?

I spun, searching the room until the clock’s hands came into focus—9 a.m.

That couldn’t be right.

‘Shit,’ I muttered, untangling myself from the sheets as I stood. Pressing a hand to my forehead, I tried to clear the fog.

Sleeping in wasn’t like me; dawn was always my alarm.

So—why had I slept in?

My gaze landed on the pillow beside mine. Its center was pressed inward, preserving the impression of another person’s head.

A scent lingered in the air—cologne, musk, and maleness.

Alessio.

The man I’d shared my sacred space with—and because of it, I’d rested deeper than I had in months, perhaps even years.

I recalled his heat, scent, and solidness, which, while not touching me, had soothed me inexplicably.

A chill seeped through my pajamas, sending a shiver down my spine as realization hit—he’d seen me at my most vulnerable.

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

No man had woken in my bed with me still in it.

What had he glimpsed?

Had I drooled?

Talked in my sleep?

Stunk of morning breath?

Made a freaky fool of myself?

I took an inhale, needing to calm the fuck down.

But where the hell was he?

The faint scrape of furniture outside on the veranda triggered a stomach lurch.

I scooted from under the sheets and shuffled to the living space. My pulse quickened as I focused on the outer door, the wood mocking me with its silence.

My mind spun with self-doubt, imagining his judgment.

With a suck of my teeth, I silenced the unwarranted shame and crossed the floor, pushing the door open.

The veranda greeted me with a chill breeze, as did the sculpted mountain of a man sprawled on the outdoor lounge, sunlight casting a halo around him .

He was rolling his freakin’ gold coin over his knuckles, eyes canted to the view.

Holy fuck.

It was unfair for any human to look this good in the morning.

His lips curled in awareness of my presence, and the penny paused for a beat, and then he continued.

His movements were smooth and deliberate, each flick of his lean fingers sending the golden coin spinning in a mesmerizing dance.

I’d learned from an early age that men could be dangerous.

I’d picked up on how to judge a man’s level of menace so I’d escape it, fast.

Now, this man was beyond menacing.

Every move of his fingers was calculated, a display of control that intimidated and fascinated me.

Like he fuckin’ held all the power and cards in the wicked game he was playing on me, toying with me with a sinister charm.

Yet, his essence had an allure, a wild appeal that drew me in despite my fear and uncertainty.

He turned his head, and flaming eyes hit mine, brimming with a dark emotion I couldn’t place.

He jerked his chin at me in a silent invitation, and I responded with a slight wave, feeling absurd in my printed night gear.

His eyes raked over them with a gleam like he’d had the night before.

‘What?’ I groused.

‘I’ll repeat it: leaping cartoon kangaroos are so fuckin’ sensual,’ he rasped.

I rolled my eyes. ‘You’re out of your mind. ’

‘Your fault, bella,’ came the amused drawl, obscuring half his face in his tea mug. ‘You wear that sexy get up to bed tonight, and I may have to strip it off to maintain my sanity.’

I buzzed on the inside, hiding it with a glare. ‘You’re certifiably an asshole.’

He stuck his tongue in his cheek and met my defiant eyes until the heat sizzled so hot as to scorch, and I tore my eyes away.

A palpable silence settled, my heartbeat echoing in the stillness of the morning.

It was interrupted by the subtle scrape of his voice.

‘Coffee?’ he rasped, the word rough-edged.

I nodded, a mute puppet jerked to life by the simplicity of the offer.

My throat tightened, not from sleep but from the uncertainty that filled the space between us.

The nod was all I could muster, an agreement to something as mundane as a beverage, and yet, at that moment, it felt like so much more.

He pushed himself up from the couch, a grimace shadowing his features.

The makeshift brace cradled his left arm at an awkward angle, the white bandage stark against his skin’s tan.

The jerry-rigged support was clumsy at best.

‘That’ll require a rework and some tightening and re-tying,’ I whispered.

He turned his gaze to the injured limb, a single brow arched in response.

‘So fix it.’

He finished the demand with a curl to his lip, revealing a dimple in his cheek under his beard .

Need streaked - to my freakin’ clit.

The morning light played across his face, highlighting the stubble that framed his lips and the gleam in his eyes.

Damn, this man, I thought.

He stood waiting, expectant.

‘Cleo?’

‘Of course,’ I replied.

He sat back on the sofa as I leaned in and re-tied the rudimentary brace, stretching the two reinforced elastic straps on the upper arm, across his chest, and under his other arm to provide extra support for the shoulder and give him more unrestricted movement.

‘You’re good now,’ I soon announced.

‘Bene,’ he grunted, moving past me with the deliberate care of a man who respected his body’s limits.

As he did so, the air around us shifted, carrying with it the essence of his skin—a blend of heady cologne and an indefinable spice that was so him. It came off him in waves, a musk that seemed to settle over my senses and leave me disarmed.

To avoid him, I canted away from him, albeit too fast, and he paused, a smirk on his face.

‘Don’t fret, woman,’ he growled. ‘When I touch you, it’s because you’ll be begging for it.’

I jolted at his crude estimation.

‘You’re so up yourself,’ I whispered.

He raked his eyes over me, lips twitching.

I took a ragged breath.

‘The only thing I want to be up in is you, carissima, drilling you deeper.’

He rasped the vulgar sentence, and I inhaled at his moxie, my response tumbling out unbidden. ‘You going to do what?’

He bent his head, drew his mouth parallel to my ear, and drawled into it. ‘Up you, in you, balls deep.’

The undertone, raw, sultry, shredded me on the inside and sent ecstasy through every fiber of my being.

I struggled not to fumble my outrage. ‘In your wildest dreams.’

He pulled back, the whisper of his breath playing on my skin. ‘See? It’s intriguing, no? Pensaci. Dream on it.’

He straightened with a lionizing gaze, his mouth curling, eyes predatory like a hunter’s.

‘Never.’

The unholy nerve.

I sliced my eyes away from his colossal frame, biting my lip to stop hissing at the jolt between us.

Italian men were bold as brass, but Alessio took the cake. His balls had to be coated in freakin’ gold and diamonds.

He huffed, leonine eyes gleaming in triumph as he stalked off.

Leaving me sopping wet, nipples throbbing.

The sensation wasn’t just physical; it was as if his presence was shattering my control, dismantling the walls I’d built over the years.

He was raw and aggressive, with a bullish sensuality that reached out and wrapped itself around the stony resolve I prided myself on.

His scent lingered where he’d passed, and I hissed, drawing it in.

Damn, he was a portrait of male beauty as he made his way to the kitchen, the fabric of his jeans hugging him in all the right places. He walked with stealthed grace, silent, raptorial, the kind of energy that slayed.

My eyes traced the muscles in his back shift beneath the cotton shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders.

Fuck, he annoyed me.

Yet somehow, he also calmed me. How else had I slept so well?

How was this man who, before yesterday, had only been a distant whisper of a memory, now become a bedrock in my uncertain existence?

Those questions and more danced in my mind, unbidden and unanswered.

Gingerly, I sat on the outdoor sofa, resting my head against the backrest. I exhaled an extended, measured breath, allowing the tension woven through my muscles to unravel.

To let go.

Of the apprehension, the need for control, and the fear of the unknown that had kept my world contained.

I closed my eyes, surrendering to the silence, my thoughts searching for peace in the wake of chaos.

The sun climbed higher, its rays filtering through the leaves, projecting a dappled pattern on the wooden floorboards.

Its warmth touched my skin, casting me adrift in a rare serenity when his quiet stride signaled his return.

A mug clinked onto the outdoor table before me.

The scent of fresh-brewed coffee wafted, waking my senses.

Still, with my eyes closed, I sensed his presence as a subtle shift in the air—a displacement caused by his solid frame moving through the space.

His arm brushed against the back of the sofa as he settled down, his steady breathing blending with the rustle of leaves outside .

I let a slow exhale escape, not ready to break the spell or open my eyes to acknowledge him.

But I nodded in a silent thank you for the coffee.

Settling into a fractious understanding that didn’t demand words or action, just simple, shared existence despite the fact I wanted to slit his throat.

ALESSIO

I tagged the slight upturn to her lips as the sun warmed her.

Her eyes parted with an inhale, and she sliced her gaze to the mug I’d set in front of her.

Neat, elegant, unadorned fingers curled around its heat, bringing the lip to her mouth, sipping.

It was proving too hard not to resist needling her, pushing her buttons, talking dirty and crude-as-fuck.

Just to see her reaction, loving how her cheeks pinked up at my outrageous utterances, how her eyes lit up, and her lips tightened.

I was enjoying this shit a little too much.

However, I wasn’t driven by pure lust alone. I wanted to pull her mind away from her present troubles, to see her light up with anything other than sadness. To witness an eye roll or curse that took her away from her loneliness.

Still, the sensuality of the game I was playing sent a jolt to my traitorous cock, and I found myself rasping out words to refocus my wayward body.

‘The men who ambushed me, where do they operate from?’ I growled.

‘Why?’

‘Like I said, I’m after Franco Conti. But I need to know of all possible threats in the area.’

She sat up, and I tagged the worry - the shit I didn’t like to see - crowding her eyes.

‘They’re Caputo capos and work with his sons, who’ve been running the farm since Franco was put away.’

Her voice was a hushed whisper.

I nodded, taking my time before answering. ‘Sons? How many?’

She shot me a narrowed glance, hesitating.

‘Three.’

‘Their names, cara?’

Her face clouded over for a second. ‘Rocco, Fabio and Bruno Conti.’

I huffed at the cliche names. ‘Stai scherzando. The sound like the members of a shit boy band. You’re joking?’

Her lips twitched. ‘I kid you not.’

‘Tell me more,’ I demanded.

Cleo gave me pressed lips, and I sensed turbulence under her calm waters. ‘The Caputos are paying the Contis for their farmland to grow weed and manufacture meth. At least, that’s what the rumors are. The Caputos have sent in a small army of capos to protect the drugs they’re cooking on their farm. They’re fuckin’ nuts who walk around brandishing guns and their collective outrage, frustration, boredom, and weak-ass gangster fakery. ’

I searched her face, aware of the reason for her ire. ‘You hate them,’ I noted.

Her lips twisted. ‘I loath all of them. They have a wanton disregard for the lives and livelihoods of their fellow human beings. They’ve destroyed so many families, and the flow of narcotics has created a serious problem in the area.’

‘Sounds like someone needs to take them out.’

Cleo’s jaw clenched. ‘Not me. My beef is with Franco.’

Her tone carried with it a measure of pain.

‘You’re waiting for him, aren’t you? For revenge?’ I growled.

Her eyes burned when she turned them toward me, confirming my suspicions she was planning to end Franco if she ever encountered him.

‘You’re well within your right, tesoro.’

She jolted. ‘Why are you calling me that?’

Her voice was sharp, her face panicked.

I’d struck a nerve.

‘It means treasure,’ I offered. ‘That’s all.’

‘I’m no one’s treasure.’

Her bleak, stoic statement hit me so hard I sucked my teeth.

I pushed a hand into my trousers and found my jade talisman. Rolling the beads in my fingers, I growled at her. ‘Woman, if you look like a fuckin’ treasure; you talk and walk like one, and your body, tesoro, is out of this world, then you’re a treasure.’

I smirked at the rush of color into her face as she canted away from me.

My eyes lingered on the curve of her spine. Wanting to take her in my arms and soothe away the strain on her face.

To kiss her shoulder and nape, lick her perfect ear shell, make her come so hard she’d forget her momentary troubles.

Again, my cock jolted in my pants.

This woman was something else.

Vulnerable yet strong as hell.

Sharp nonetheless sweet under her orneriness.

Damn, I wanted to fuck her so bad.

With a long inhale, I reclined back on the couch and pulled a knee over the other thigh again to hide my tenting situation.

She seemed not to notice, her eyes fixed on the horizon.

I sensed her agony and twisted my lips.

Seeking to shift her attention, I leaned in. ‘I have to find out how well armed the Contis are in case they attack. I’d also like to see this operation they’re running,’ I growled.

Her eyes flicked to my upper arm. ‘With that injury, you’re constrained with what you can do. Infiltrating the Conti farm means jumping their fences or digging under them to approach at night in stealth. You won’t do it on a bum shoulder.’

‘What makes you think I need to stealth it? Or attempt an infil at night?’

Her eyes widened at my audacity. ‘A daytime raid? You’re bodacious.’

‘It is my middle name,’ I drawled back. ‘I’ve done it before.’

‘How about I provide some support once you’re healed,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll point you in the right direction and maybe even help you over their fence line, but that’ll be it. I don’t want to be involved with the Contis unless it’s on my terms.’

‘Which are?’ I pushed.

A wild light flared in her eyes. ‘None of your fuckin’ own business.’

With that, she rose and stalked off, empty mug in hand.

Just as she yanked open her cabin door, I drawled. ‘So what does one do on a farm all day today?’

She paused for a second at the door. ‘Breakfast, followed by repair work. We’ve got some freak storms, sometimes even the promise of tennis ball-sized hail. I must fix the roof and hammer a few loose nails in the shutters.’

I raised a brow.

‘Feel free to watch me for your pure entertainment, or otherwise string some guitar song together, perhaps even read a book,’ she shrugged.

I sighed and pulled out my phone from my pocket.

It had sustained a crack in my ambush with the Contis, but it was still working.

However, the internet symbol was grayed out.

I tipped my chin to her. ‘You have WiFi?’

She’d just stepped into the house and reversed, with a twist to her lips, before disappearing into the cabin.

She emerged with a transistor radio and plopped it on the outdoor table. She punched in a button, and the strains of jazz and the muted sound of an announcer set up the next track.

I stared at it with narrowed eyes.

‘Is this shit real?’ I growled, disbelieving, arching my brow.

She smirked. ‘We have ABC transmission. Enjoy. It’s good enough for me, so it should be for you.’

I scoffed in shock. ‘So no Internet? How do you survive?’

‘I login at the library in town if I need it.’

She strode off with a small smile.

No WiFi? What the bumfuck was this place?

‘I heard that.’