by Skyla Madi
It’s as rough and as aggressive as I imagined it to be. Just as terrifying too. Cautiously, he removes his hand from my mouth, and the smell of leather is replaced by the aroma of his expensive cologne.
He’s here. He’s really here.
Stefan tugs at the stethoscope around my neck and manages to slip it away without struggle. I watch him, in shock, pressing my back as hard as I can into the wall, while he fits the ear buds into his ears. I tremble as he gently taps the plate against his full lips and exhales on it, ever so slightly, all while keeping eye contact with me.
What is he doing?
He lowers the stethoscope to my chest and my muscles tighten. His shoulders are broader than I thought and the arresting power his body emits as it occupies my space is…is incredible.
A rush of air leaves my lungs as a cloud moves away from the moon and the room brightens, exposing his face to me. That’s what truly does me in. He is absolutely breathtaking. Flawless skin, black, espresso eyes lined with long, dark lashes, and a strong jaw tinted by subtle stubble.
My intruder’s stare flickers over my face before settling on my lips. Without a word, he slips the cool plate under the fabric of my romper and presses it against my chest. I let out a slow, shaky breath to steady my thrumming heart.
“Your heart is racing,” he says, his lips twitching, and this time I catch his American accent. “Are you scared, Doctor?”
I drag an inhale through my nose as calmly as I can.
“You’re Stefan Valentino,” I point out, not ashamed by the uncertain tones in my voice. “And you’re in my home.”
He glances over his shoulder. “It’s a lovely home, by the way.”
“Are…are you going to kill me?”
He clicks his tongue against his teeth and tosses my stethoscope away. “I haven’t decided yet.”
I try to slip out away from him, but he grabs my wrists in his large hands and pins them to the wall. I hiss as he pinches my skin. I don’t want to die—which is funny considering I’ve asked for it on multiple occasions over the last ten years of my life—hell, I’ve even begged for it—but I haven’t travelled the world yet. I’ve seen Canada and Italy, with Christiano as my guide, but that’s it. What about the Grand Canyon? Or Mount Everest? I want to eat at a damn Taco Bell before I die, at the very least.
“You haven’t decided?” I ask, my voice trailing off into a nervous laugh as he releases one of my wrists. “You’re a hitman. You’re not the one who gets to decide.” My lower lip trembles. “Moretti does. You’re just the middle m—”
The firm press of his handgun to my temple traps the rest of my sentence in my throat and tears well in my eyes.
“My decisions are not swayed by fear or money.”
“Then don’t kill me,” I say, emotion choking my words in my throat.
Craning his neck, he leans in close, so close I swear our lips brush.
“One hundred and four confirmed kills,” he simply says, tilting his head. “Out of one hundred and four people, ninety-three of them have begged me to spare their lives. How many do you think I’ve let go?”
I shake my head.
“Go on.”
“None,” I assume, and he smiles.
“None.”
Impatience flares, igniting my nerves, and my tears dry up. “Then what are you waiting for? You’ve been teasing me for weeks, and I’m certain Moretti wouldn’t appreciate you stringing me along like this, so if you’re going to pull the damn trigger, pull it! Put me out of my misery already.”
Stefan lowers his gun.
“Like I said…” He releases me and I slump against the wall. “I haven’t decided what I’m going to do with you.”
He turns away and saunters into the kitchen. I wait in the dark silence for…well, I don’t know what for. Curious, I tiptoe down the hall and enter the kitchen, rubbing at my wrists. Instinctively, my eyes dart to the paper towel I left my gun under and I slide up to it as quietly as I can as Stefan grabs the green tea towel off of the oven handle and lays it flat on the bench. As he pulls open the freezer, I fling the paper towel off of my gun and—it’s gone! I pat the bench as if that will make it magically appear.
“Looking for this?”
I snap my head up and Stefan is facing me, frozen peas in one hand and my handgun in the other. Narrowing his black eyes, he kicks the freezer shut behind him. He tosses me the gun and I catch it awkwardly with a loud gasp, my chest tightening with the fear of shooting myself. Stefan turns his back and drops the peas onto the towel and I straighten my arms, pointing the gun at the back of his head…I think. To be honest, it’s quite dark, so I could be pointing the gun at my cute cat clock off to the left.
Without thought, without hesitation, I squeeze the trigger.
Click.
Nothing.
“You didn’t think I’d return the gun fully loaded, did you?” he asks without a glance over his shoulder as he wraps the peas.
Groaning, I toss the gun on the bench. “What do you want from me?”
Ignoring me, he turns around, and the swift movement puts steel in my spine as he strides forward to tower over me. Snatching my hands, he places the cool towel of frozen peas on my wrists and holds it there.
“I grabbed you too hard,” he states and I frown, watching his giant, leather-clad hands, as he holds the makeshift icepack to my wrists. “This will help.”
Grabbed me too hard? I’m confused.
“Your ring,” he says. I feel his gaze on my face as he applies slight pressure to the peas. “It’s new.”
It’s freaky how much this guy notices. “It is. I’m getting married.”
“Congratulations.”
I lift my stare to his. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“That’s hardly enthusiastic.”
I glare at him. “I’d rather not share my relationship problems with Moretti or the man trying to kill me.”
“You should. It just might save your life.” He cranes his neck. “Why is Christiano marrying you, anyway?”
What kind of question is that? Why does anyone get married? “Because he loves me.”
“You have nothing to offer him.”
Ouch. I scoff. “Gee, thanks.”
“You aren’t made from the same material as they are…” Stefan grabs the peas and dumps them on the bench. I don’t move, don’t speak, as he takes my hand in his and grips Christiano’s ring between his fingers, “…is what I meant.”
Slowly, he pulls the ring off my finger and slips it into his pocket. I breathe better without it.
“I don’t want to marry Christiano Russo. I don’t want anything to do with any of them, but it’s too late. I made a bad decision and now I’m suffering the consequences.” I pull my hands from Stefan’s. “What does it matter to you?”
He purses his lips and—lightbulb. Is it possible that Stefan Valentino has developed a teeny tiny infatuation for me, like I did for him? Do I plague his thoughts like he plagues mine?
“Oh, I see.” I inch closer, tilting my head back to look up at him. “For weeks you followed me to and from work. You let yourself into my house while I slept. You’ve watched me change, read, and eat. You even watched from the other building as Christiano pressed my bare breasts against the glass.” I flick my gaze between his eyes and his lips, wishing the lighting was better so I could memorise them. “I bet you hate that killing me means this perfectly fine body will go to waste.”
His lips twitch at the corner. “Not the self-conscious type, I see.”
“I never have been.” I touch his arms, lightly pressing my palms against him. “Do you think I like to wear pencil skirts around the hospital or read a book outside in a tiny red nighty with my leg propped up?” I scoff. “Please. I knew you were watching.”
And it thrilled me.
Stefan straightens his shoulders. “You’re right. Ending you is a waste, but you’re not the only female with a beautiful body and a functioning cu—”
“
—watch it.”
“Just ask Christiano.”
He could have slapped me and it wouldn’t have stung as much as the words he just said. Gritting my teeth, I snap forward and kiss him. In shock, his body tightens against mine and I flick my tongue against his bottom lip. Unexpectedly, my head spins at the feel of his mouth. I haven’t kissed a man other than Christiano in nearly ten years. I shiver with energy as it rolls down my spine. For the first time in a long time, a kiss is exciting me and it’s all for the wrong reasons.
Stefan’s shock lasts a second before it rips away and he snatches my hair in his fist. With a tug, he pulls my mouth from his. I gasp, panting to keep up with the speed of my heart as he cuts his eyes at me. “You think kissing me will save your life?”
I shrug. “It was worth a shot.”
He holds me in place and I expect…well, I don’t know what I expect. Maybe he’ll stab me. Maybe he’ll shoot me.
He curses under his breath before slamming me against him, kissing me roughly, desperately, like it’s what he needs to survive. Stefan parts his lips and slides his tongue into my mouth, wrapping a strong arm around my waist and lifting me onto the tips of my toes. My breath hitches as his taste floods into me, chocolate, mint, and danger. I’ve never been kissed like this—never with such urgency, such desire. When Christiano kisses me, he makes me feel like I owe it to him, but this kiss, Stefan accepts it gratefully and runs with it hungrily, as if he’s not worthy to touch my lips, as if it’s a goddamn blessing.
It’s a kiss that I can dissolve into…but this kiss isn’t for pleasure. I slide one hand around his neck, my skin igniting with electricity as it glides against his, and slip the other under his jacket…across his slim hips…until my index finger brushes his handgun. Inside, I smile victoriously.
Men are magnificent, aren’t they? Strong, focused, and imposing…until a lady shows them some attention. Then they turn to putty. Putty that can be shaped. Even a man as commanding as Stefan Valentino is no match for the soft lips of a willing woman.
I grab his gun and he reacts immediately, but I snap back, breaking free of his grip before he has the chance to disarm me. I point the gun at his chest. My lips are swollen and wet. So are his.
“Well, well,” I tease, breathless. “Isn’t this a dilemma? Your boss isn’t going to be happy with you.”
He licks his lips. “Don’t be stupid, Cammie.”
“I don’t want to shoot you,” I tell him. “But my hands are tied.”
“You kill me and then what?” he snaps, inching closer. “You’re going to run to Christiano, where he’ll keep you locked up in a damn storage closet while he burns down half the city, hell bent on revenge? Innocent people will die and that’ll be on you.”
“He’s going to want revenge regardless.” I step back. I step back again, desperate to keep distance between us. “And if he’s fuelled by my death, then it’ll be the whole city that pays, not half.”
Stefan sneers and, God help me, it’s a beautiful look for him. “You think he cares that much?”
“Christiano Russo is the most ruthless man I’ve ever met. He’d destroy entire planets for me, Stefan, and if he knew you were stalking me this whole time, you’d already be dead. I did you a favour by not telling him.”
He smiles at me. Actually fucking smiles. “Cute. You think I should be scared of him?”
Cute? Christiano is a psychopath and Stefan’s lack of fear is incredibly outrageous. I haven’t seen Christiano in all of his murderous glory, but I’ve heard stories. I know what he’s capable of.
“You should be terrified.”
His smile fades as he lifts his hand, a calming gesture. “Right now, I’m more scared of you than Christiano Russo. Give me the gun.”
I take another step back, making my way through the dining area and over to the glass wall. On the floor below me there’s a pool. If I have to, I’ll jump out of this fucking window.
“I’m not giving you the gun.”
“Okay.” He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Don’t give me the gun. Give me answers.”
I frown, increasingly losing grip on the gun due to sweaty palms. “Answers?”
“Franco Moretti wants information. That’s all.”
“Information?”
Stefan inches closer. “On the heroin shipment. On the plans to move to California.”
I open my mouth and then close it again. I’ve never spoken business with the Russos or anyone associated with them. “Heroin? The Russos are involved in drugs?”
“You really don’t know anything, do you?” he simpers. “I bet Talia and Beth know more about the Russos’ business than you do.”
Talia? Beth? The strippers? Oh. I glare at him. “You’re an asshole.”
“I’ve been called worse.” He steps forward and I let him.
I let him slowly close the distance between us. The closer he gets, the straighter his posture becomes. His lethal intent is blasting off of him in waves and I know I’m not getting out of here alive, not unless I get myself out. I lower the gun, letting Stefan think he’s winning, but when he’s within arm’s reach, I shoot the window and dive out of it. Glass cuts me, but the adrenaline pouring through my veins doesn’t allow me to feel the burn. My heart threatens to implode as I freefall for five seconds before crashing into the pool. I roll, straightening myself in the water, clenching my teeth against the searing burns that scorch my skin. Letting go of the gun, I kick my legs and move my arms until I break the surface. I gasp, inhaling as much air as I can as I move toward the edge.
“Cammie!” Stefan shouts from above, his voice echoing slowly in my ears. “Are you crazy?”
Without looking, I flip him off. He has no fucking idea.
“Wait there! I’m coming.”
I pull half of my body out of the pool and my head spins. The concrete becomes the sky and the sky, the concrete. It spins so badly.
“Cammie, you’re bleeding!”
Cocking my leg, I force myself out of the pool and smear blood everywhere. There’s so much of it…
“Stay there, Cam—stay—damn it!”
I move toward the big, black gate and collapse somewhere at the halfway mark. I lie on the floor. I don’t know how long I stay there for, but when I finally climb to my feet, there are people staring at me. A family. Three teenagers and a father who’s on the phone to the ambulance—or maybe it’s the police. I can’t hear him.
I mumble that I’m sorry, but I don’t think they hear me. I get through the gate and stumble past the man who reaches out to hold me. I shrug away from him and head toward his back door.
My head spins violently. I don’t know where I’m cut, but wherever it is, it’s allowing me to bleed out and fast. I sob as my legs turn to jelly beneath me. I close my eyes, expecting to hit the tiles, only firm, warm arms surround me. The voice cusses me out, but holds me close.
Christiano? Mom? Dad? Stefan? I don’t know.
Weightlessness seizes me as I’m lifted off the ground and carried away.
Chapter Eight
∞ Stefan Valentino ∞
For the record, this is not getting things done the old fashioned way. This is so fucking the opposite of getting things done the old fashioned way.
I press my hand against her inner thigh, applying pressure to one of her wounds with my jacket. Out of all of them, this one bleeds the most. The glass sliced through her like a warm knife to butter, her clothes too, and I don’t know if I’m going to get her where she needs to be in time. Oh, how the tables have turned. I started my night off with every intention of killing her and now I’m speeding down a dark service road that runs alongside the motorway, trying to save her life? Moretti is going to fucking kill me.
I steal a quick glance at Cammie, who’s growing paler by the second. I look at the clock on the centre console. I’m two minutes out from Beau’s brother’s dental clinic. I called Beau beforehand to let him know I’m coming and he’s going to meet
me there. If I can just get Cammie there, if I can just get her to Beau, he can patch her up, and then I can figure out what the hell I’m going to do with her. More importantly, I can figure out what the hell I’m going to tell Moretti.
I pull into the parking lot of the prestigious Bright Dental practice. There aren’t any other cars, save for the single white Mercedes a few spaces to my left. It belongs to Beau’s brother, I assume. I reach down into the center console and grab a piece of gum. To be honest, my nerves aren’t as steely as I’d like them to be and the gum helps. I hope his brother knows I’m coming and isn’t waiting for me inside with the police.
Turning the car off, I leap from the driver’s seat and out into the hot, night air. I roll my sleeves to my elbows as I round the car and pull open the passenger door. I cringe at the sight of the once white leather seats underneath Cammie’s lifeless body. Wet and dry blood paint the surface and have soaked into the fibres. I’ll never get it out.
I scoop Cammie’s soaking body into my arms and she drenches my shirt further. Grunting, I kick the door shut and carry her up the stairs to the dentist’s front door. Glancing over my shoulder, I tap the door with my shoe. It’s quiet out. No cars travel the road, no people litter the sidewalk.
Just the way I like it.
I step back as the locking mechanism to the frosted glass door clanks and it’s pulled open. Before me, a wide-eyed man stands, his slim shoulders taut and square.
“Christ! What the hell happened?”
I push past him and blood and water drip onto the cream tiles. “Where can I put her?”
“Where can you put her?” He shuts the door and follows closely behind me as I make my way through the waiting room and into surgery one. “She needs a surgeon, not a dentist. What do you expect me to do with her?”
The surgery smells of bleach and mint, an interesting combo that doesn’t sit well in my lungs.
“I don’t expect you to do anything.” I lower Cammie onto the black chair, not bothering to push her soaking hair off of her face. “Where’s Beau? Is he here yet?”
“No, he’s not here yet.” Beau’s brother folds his thin arms over his slim chest. “You do realise this is a dental clinic. Not a damn hospital.”
