Fate Book Two

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  He decided. He decided? I stared into those deep, dark eyes with tiny flecks of gold, trying to tamp down the bitterness and hear what he was actually trying to say without the ego attachment.

  Conclusion?

  I felt the same way. I couldn’t undo wanting him or loving him, even if I knew he was a bad choice for me. For both of us.

  “Yep,” I agreed. “So, what’s next?”

  He gave me a look, as if shocked, then blinked and said, “You leave Italy, and I wait.”

  “For the phone call from the buyers?”

  He nodded.

  “And if they don’t call?” I asked.

  “They will. The only things left to do now are for my father to confirm the buyers have deposited the money in the bank and for me to orchestrate the drop.”

  “Okay. Let me ask it this way: What if the deal isn’t done before your family gets incredibly suspicious about you being the real Felix and tips the buyers off?”

  He shook his head. “My family won’t tip off the buyers; they want the money. Ten million per cadaver.”

  “So then what will they do?”

  “They’ll quietly kill me and finish the deal. But then the mission is screwed, because my family would change the pickup spot and my people wouldn’t get to ID the men or follow them back to their lab.”

  Of course, Paolo skimmed over the part where he dies. Spies! It’s all about the mission. Not that it wasn’t important, but so was his life.

  I thought it was over for a moment. There was only one way to make absolutely sure Paolo’s cover stayed intact long enough to complete the deal.

  “Take me to your father,” I said.

  “Why would I do that?” He looked at me as if I were beyond bonkers.

  “Felix would bring me back to his father.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying. These are not good people, Dakota. They’ll kill you.”

  “Oh. I get it. It’s okay for you to risk your life or sacrifice it—that’s noble and manly—but I’m not allowed. I’m not allowed to be heroic or care about what happens to the world I live in.”

  “I didn’t say that,” he argued.

  “Paolo, you and I are over. That includes your obligation to protect me. It ended the moment you left me in that church.”

  “Yeah. I noticed how quickly you moved on. Nice of you to do it with my cousin, by the way.”

  He was jealous? After everything he’d just said?

  I sneered, “You gave me up. You! So don’t go there. And don’t change subjects—if I want to help, any way I can, that’s my right. Just like yours. Just like my father’s.”

  “He’ll never approve of this.”

  Ohmygod! Can he be any more…ugh! “It’s not his choice.”

  “He won’t see it that way.”

  “I don’t care! He’s my past. Just like you.” I know it sounded harsh, but I needed him to see the truth. This was the only way. “If the buyers don’t call within a day, you make up a story about where you’ve been. Say my father caught you, but you got away with my help—you suckered me into it. Then you present me as a nice prize.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Why not? You said yourself I’m not more important than millions of people, and you’re right.”

  “Sending you to die is stupid. I’ll find another way.”

  “You said that this is our last chance.”

  “It is.”

  “And if you’re confident the buyers will call to finalize the exchange, then—”

  “It could be up to three more days. The bodies have to be cleared through Lviv, then transported by truck to the drop-off.”

  “Where’s Lviv?”

  “Ukraine. From there we follow the shipment. Of course, we don’t expect any further contact with the buyers after we drop the body, but I’d planned to stay in place until the end—and the arrests are made—to keep up appearances.”

  “So you’re planning to slip away and no one will know about you?” I asked.

  “They’ll think Felix was taken and tortured for information by your father, or something like that.”

  Which probably wasn’t far from the truth. Felix was being held somewhere and wouldn’t likely ever see the light of day—not if he was as bad as Paolo said.

  Anyway, the plan was actually pretty smart; if the Abellis never knew Paolo had been posing as Felix, it reduced the risk of them reviving their efforts to come after him someday. So, all Paolo really needed to do now was show up with me as his prize.

  “I’ll find a way to get free,” I said. “But you have to keep your cover intact.”

  He laughed. “I think you’ve watched too many movies.”

  “You act like I haven’t lived an entire life of weirdness with the man who makes James Bond look like a wuss. Or that my made-up boyfriend turned out to be real and my bodyguard.” My life made movies look boring.

  He sighed deeply. “Let me think about it. We’re not going anywhere today, regardless.”

  He slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out his cell.

  “Who are you calling?” I asked.

  “I’m ordering groceries. We can’t live off of Nutella, and I need to eat.”

  Typical. He’s thinking about food.

  “I’ll need some clothes and other essentials, too,” I said.

  He nodded and began speaking into the phone, ordering whatever from whomever.

  I wandered over to the window and peeked outside. The small apartment we were in was on the third floor and had a view of a little park with trees and a fountain. Several moms sat on a bench, their strollers in front of them. They didn’t look much older than me—maybe about Paolo’s age, in their early twenties—but their smiles and laughter as they chatted away made me envious. Once again, I found myself sitting in the middle of a crazy nightmare and on the sideline of a normal life, knowing I was missing out on so many experiences someone my age should be having. No, I didn’t mean I wanted to be a mom, but the path I was on would never get me there if I wanted it someday.

  Don’t do this, Dakota. Don’t think. Don’t get emotional.

  “My brain hurts,” I said. “I’m going to go lie down.”

  Paolo jerked his head at me, still talking away on the phone. I knew he was no longer ordering groceries, but coordinating with his people. And I had no doubt his next call would be to my father.

  I crawled into the small bed and closed my eyes, telling myself that whatever happened, the worst was over. I’d gotten my answers about Paolo, and we were through. Nothing that could happen now would hurt me because there was nothing left to hurt—nothing that really mattered, anyway.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  When I woke a few hours later, I felt the familiar and wonderful warmth of Paolo’s body stretched beside me on the small bed. At first I thought about pushing him away, but he began to mumble in Italian. The tone was distressed, and I knew he suffered from terrible nightmares years before we’d ever met. Sometimes he’d dream about his mom being shot, lying facedown in a pool of her own blood. Sometimes he dreamed of Annette, his ex, but usually he dreamed about me—dying, being kidnapped, or simply disappearing. For the nine or so months we’d lived together, the frequency of his nightmares became less and less until they were almost nonexistent. He said the only thing that made him sleep through the night was holding me.

  Paolo nestled his face into the side of my breast and then slid his large, warm hand underneath my shirt to my stomach. I felt my heart beat faster as I remembered how so many times his sweet, nocturnal nuzzlings turned into something more after I was awoken by his massive hardness eagerly prodding my thigh.

  Dammit. The warm, sensual tingles traveled like an erotic bolt of lightning from between my legs to deep inside, making me painfully aware of what I’d been missing these past months. That hollow, sexual ache was all for him. Or the lack of him.

  Okay. Time for a cold shower.

  I moved to leave the bed, but Paolo
tightened his grip around my torso and slid his leg between mine, holding me even closer.

  “No. Don’t go,” he mumbled.

  “Paolo?” I gave him a little shake with my free hand. “Paolo?”

  He mumbled again, but I didn’t understand. His hand then traveled up inside my shirt and cupped my breast while he nuzzled his face into the other one. “Mmm…you smell so good. I bet you taste even better.”

  I stared up at the ceiling. Lord, please give me the strength to resist this very sexy, hard man who is provoking very normal feelings for a woman my age. Please?

  But I couldn’t allow us to slip into any old patterns of intimacy, even if he felt so good, so right against my body. Even if I craved him. I would only end up hurt. Again.

  Dammit! “Paolo!” I snapped.

  His head jerked up. “What? What’s wrong?” His hand slipped from my shirt behind his back.

  “Did you bring a gun into bed with me?” I seethed.

  “What’s the matter?” Sleep-filled panic was strewn across his face.

  “You are…ummm…” My eyes moved down in the general direction of our hips.

  He quickly realized what I’d meant, but instead of pulling away or apologizing, he simply stared with those smoldering eyes. “Old habits.”

  I huffed and half rolled, half pushed my way out from under him. “I’m taking a shower.” A cold one.

  “Need help washing your back?” A wolfish smile crept over his lips as I turned away and left the room. Despite everything, Paolo hadn’t changed a bit—still cocky as hell. And still sexy as hell, too.

  I hope the buyers call in the next twenty-four hours. Because being stuck with Paolo in close quarters was not going to work.

  When I emerged from the bathroom with triple-washed hair and body, I found the place empty. Paolo had probably gone out for some supplies, so I helped myself to his duffel bag in the closet and looked for something clean to wear. I found burgundy boxers, the ones I’d bought for Valentine’s Day, and a small picture of the two of us on the beach in Costa Rica, the tropic waves in the background. My hair was wet with ocean water, and our faces, covered in tiny flecks of sand, were red from the sun. We’d been playing in the waves and decided to take an “usie” after officially declaring it the happiest day we’d ever lived. Paolo promised to make every day just as happy for the rest of our lives.

  My eyes instantly teared up.

  “I really like that picture,” he said from the doorway.

  I immediately stood, holding the towel, boxers, and picture to my body. “You’re back.”

  “Yeah. I just went to check one of the cameras.”

  Of course. Paolo would have little dime-sized cameras discreetly mounted at every entrance of the small apartment building we were in, and around the neighborhood in strategic locations. Just in case we had to get away, he’d know which route was safest.

  “Hope you don’t mind if I borrow some of your things?”

  “Go right ahead.” He stood there staring, and I stared right back. Okay, I was ogling. Now dressed in a navy blue T-shirt and a pair of faded jeans that hugged his lower, manly extremities in a way that highlighted his muscled thighs and his “endowment for the female-pleasure arts,” all I could see were images of what was beneath those clothes.

  Grow up, Dakota. So what? He’s hot. Really, really hot. And he’s a warrior in bed. That doesn’t mean you can’t control yourself.

  I cleared my throat. “Privacy?”

  “If you insist.” As he closed the door, I could swear I heard him grumble something like, “Nothing I haven’t seen before. Or last night.”

  I quickly pulled on his shorts and a black tee. Later, I’d see about washing my outfit from the night before. If I were going to be taken to his father, I’d want to be dressed in something less skimpy.

  When I came back out into the living room, I found Paolo shirtless and barefoot doing push-ups, his bulging arms roped with tight, flexing muscles, back straight, broad shoulders effortlessly pounding out one push-up after another. His hard ass flexed, and I had the urge to go over and—

  “Okay,” I said. “This isn’t going to work.”

  Paolo looked up at me, but kept up his aggressive pace. “What. Won’t. Work?” He panted his words.

  “This. You and me in this apartment together.”

  “Of course.” Pant. Push. “It.” Pant. Push. “Will.” Pant. Push.

  “I can get a hotel room down the street. You can stay here.”

  “Not going to…” Pant. Push.

  “Could you please stop and talk to me?”

  “Fine.” He hopped to his feet like a ninja jackrabbit. Damn, the man was in shape. His abs were chiseled to hard perfection and his bulging biceps looked like they were cut from marble. “Not going to happen.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to keep my gaze focused on his eyes.

  “Why not? Who’s going to know I’m there?”

  “I will, and I can’t keep an eye on you and ensure everything goes off without a problem.”

  Ugh. When he put it that way, I didn’t want to do anything else to derail his work. I supposed I’d just have to muscle through…his muscles.

  “All right. But no more push-ups,” I said.

  “Sit-ups?”

  “No. No flexing of muscles of any kind.”

  “I need to exercise.”

  “I’m sure your ego can take a few days’ hit on your bodybuilding efforts.”

  “The exercise,” he growled, “keeps my mind off of you. And it’s been the only thing keeping me sane these last four months. Especially these last few days.”

  Now I understood why the man looked so much bigger. And the sudden thought of him push-upping his way through countless lonely nights made me want him even more.

  He continued, “Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you looked in that silver dress at the club? Do you? I nearly dragged you out of there so I could take you to the back of the limo.”

  The visual image of him and me having sex in the back of a limo, me straddling his lap and feeling his thick, hard—No. Dammit, Dakota. You’ve been with the man less than a day, and you’re already getting all lusty eyed for him?

  “Fine. I’ll stay, but you sleep on the floor,” I added.

  “You sleep on the floor,” he replied with an abundance of frustration in his voice. Sexual frustration.

  I narrowed my eyes. “You’re the one who insists I stay here. And don’t forget—you owe me.”

  “For what?”

  “Leaving me at the altar—”

  “There was a good reason for that.”

  “Threatening to hit me—twice, I think.”

  “I was only trying to convince you that I was Felix—to avoid this mess—I wouldn’t have really hit you, Dakota.”

  “Telling me to suck you. Also twice,” I added to my list of grievances.

  “I would have let you do that.” He smirked.

  “This isn’t funny,” I growled.

  “No. It’s not. But now we’ve both made mistakes.”

  “So you admit you were wrong?” I said, unsure if I’d heard correctly.

  “I should’ve argued for plan B and told you what was going on. I should’ve believed in you to be strong enough to handle whatever happened. And you should’ve stayed the hell away from Italy. Seriously, Dakota. After everything I told you about my family, and then you come waltzing in like that?”

  “Yeah. But I came to see you—not Felix—and I had no idea Horse was your cousin, let alone that he’d take me to your grandma’s house at 2:00 a.m. to eat meatballs. My god, I was leaving the dang city and then he blinked those big green eyes at me and—”

  “I get the picture,” he interrupted. “The point is that we both made mistakes, and now we will both deal with them.”

  “You say that, Paolo, but I know you. You’re going to lie to me and then go off and do whatever. So how can I deal with anything if I’m surrounded b
y lies? I’ll only make another bad choice—possibly ruin everything—because I don’t ever have a clue about what’s going on.”

  Paolo stared at his bare feet, and I couldn’t help but stare at his bare chest. The grooves between every muscle were so deep, they almost looked painted on.

  He scratched his stubbly chin, and I knew he was mulling over something.

  “Just spit it out, Paolo. Stop the plotting and maneuvering.”

  “All right,” he said curtly, piercing me with that overly confident gaze. “The truth is, I just wanted to spend a day or two with you before I go back to my family and finish this job. The truth is they will probably kill me because I’m sure they’ve caught on, but I have no choice—I have to see this through. And the truth is I love you. I would never, not in a million goddamned years, let you sacrifice yourself to maintain my cover. I would sooner handcuff you and ship you home in an ocean container than let anyone from my family get their hands on you. And if we’re talking about truths, I never stopped hoping that this would all go away so I could go home to you. Because I don’t give a shit about doing right by you. I don’t care if you’re better off without me. I want you. I’ve wanted you since the first moment we met, and I will never stop wanting you.” He stepped in so close I could feel his sweet breath on my face. “Leaving you that day in Costa Rica was the biggest fucking mistake of my life, Dakota. And if I could do it all over again, I would have told your father to fuck off and let someone else save the world.”

  My eyes trickled with tears. His words were raw and real and exactly what my busted-up heart needed to hear. I wanted to wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. I wanted to wrap my legs around his waist and feel his hot body pressing into mine. Yet, something stopped me.

  I stared deeply into his eyes. “Does this mean you’re walking away from your job?”

  His eyes flickered with a bit of turmoil. “As soon as the buyers call and we complete the transaction, I’m out. For good,” he added.