“You should never refuse yourself pleasure.”
He quirked a brow. “What do you know of pleasure?”
Playfully, I shoved the rest of my beignet into my mouth to show him and smiled through the bliss of perfection melting on my tongue, beaming.
Cassius’s expression softened as he reached out and wiped his thumb across my lips, using it to dust off a smudge of powder. Bringing it to his own mouth and sucking it clean of sugar.
“Isn’t it good?” I said, still breathlessly watching him.
He conceded with a smirk.
His tongue flickered to lick his mouth clean, and it looked dangerously alluring. A sensual teasing he seemed oblivious to.
I dipped my middle finger into the sugar on my plate and suckled on it, wondering what other places in the city I might get to see.
Cassius zeroed in on me, and it made me uneasy. As though he was seeing me in a different way for the first time.
“In other circumstances, we might have been friends,” I mused.
He gave a curious smile. “How exactly?”
“You could teach me things. Show me things I’ve never seen.”
“What sort of things would you like to see?”
“Everything,” I said breathlessly.
Our eyes locked.
I felt a tingle in my chest like a butterfly that was trapped within and was searching its way out; fluttering around my chest, making me giddy. Vaguely aware, his hand was reaching for my nape and was guiding me toward him, toward his mouth, soft and inviting.
After all this time of wondering what it would be like to kiss him, I could finally feel the pressure of his mouth on mine, gentle and coaxing.
Hesitant, I feared he’d pull away. Instead, he pressed harder until his tongue darted in, edging my mouth wider, our tongues battling, his more dominant and mine needy for his control, for him. Captured by his hand on my nape that was firm and masterful.
Yearning to be owned in these unfolding moments, I willingly fell into this silence between us, surrendering to what felt so right.
My racing heart was seemingly catching up with this passion I’d fallen into so naturally. A sudden fear it might end was mixed with a heady confusion that he was who I wanted to be with. Him who I craved. That all this time, I’d resisted my feelings toward him, refusing to allow my heart to go there.
His grip on my nape softened, and he leaned back and went to say something, stopping short of sharing his thoughts.
My cheeks grew warm as I glanced around to see if anyone had caught us, I couldn’t look at him for a minute. Instead, I wrapped my fingers around my mug.
He looked intrigued. “You’ve never been kissed before.”
“And you’ll never get to kiss me again.” I glowered.
If he was hurt, he wasn’t showing it.
“I can see you already regret it,” I tested his reaction.
His dark glare held mine and sent a shudder through me like he had physically shot me with a poisoned dart to stun me into silence.
Then he broke into a heart-stopping smile and it looked shockingly sexy on him. It made me wonder if I’d managed to break through his walls.
Until he unleashed the words, “Getting to know you is like putting your family beneath a magnifying glass.”
“I want to leave,” I said before I could stop myself.
He pushed to his feet. “Fine.”
Cassius was shutting down on me, which was not something I wanted to happen.
“You’re upset with me?” I reasoned. “Why?”
“Upset. No, that would mean I care. Spoiler alert. I don’t.” His words hit their intended mark, but I refused to show him that.
“You’re trying to break me down.” I glared up at him. “You can’t.”
He talked through gritted teeth. “I’m not trying to do anything to you. Other than contain your sorry ass.”
“Listen, you asshole, if I can survive a Russian winter as a child with a thin coat, I can survive you.” I snapped my mouth shut.
Oh, no. . .
I’d just given away I wasn’t born in New Orleans.
Pushing myself up, I tried to hide the terror crawling beneath my skin, like a thousand ants burrowing into flesh. I refused to look him in the eyes.
He snapped his hand out toward me to demonstrate I was to take it. Instead of asking me about my outburst, Cassius just led me out of Café Du Monde, and we trekked back to the car.
I’d just handed him the mother of all clues. Coming to this café had probably been him trying to lower my defenses and getting me to talk. As though sensing my regret, his hand wrapped tighter around mine to prevent me from trying to run.
“Let’s go home,” he said. “I’ve wasted enough time.”
Cassius
After discarding the gown on Anya’s bed, I set two cream boxes beside it, then stepped back to watch her reaction to what was clearly for Mardi Gras.
She was looking at me differently since I dropped my guard and allowed a moment of weakness on my part.
I’d told myself our kiss at Café Du Monde meant nothing, but ever since, I’d felt emotions I don’t want to think about coming at me too fast.
I’d fought and lost that battle.
I kissed her.
I pressed my lips to hers. Sunk into that delicious fucking feeling. Allowed my stone-heart to finally pump.
She deserved better.
The words crashed into me again and again.
A storm in the middle of a barren ocean, the kind that drags you under. It confused the hell out of me, because she was his daughter. His blood ran through her veins.
I’d made it my life’s work to destroy each and every one of them until their bloodline was wiped from the earth. Destined to take my time and make each death count.
I was supposed to be starting with her . . .
This woman who stood before me.
This woman who was not just a beauty but also a weapon, bashing down my walls.
Anya stared back at me, an intensity in those shimmering blue eyes.
Curiosity got the better of her, and she stepped forward and peeked inside one of the boxes. She pulled out the masquerade mask. “We’re going to Mardi Gras?”
“Yes.”
The disguise was needed for us to disappear into the crowd. We’d be able to move about the revelers unnoticed until I decided otherwise.
We’d fade into the background after it happened.
Vanish into the night.
I would leave another scar on that family.
What I’d planned may be fucked up, but I was still going to do it.
She lifted the lid to the other box and found a pair of shoes to match the dress.
“Get dressed.”
She ran her fingers over the gown. “You’re seriously expecting me to put this on?”
I ignored that and headed for the door.
“I’m not wearing this.”
Pivoting, I walked back toward her. “You will.” I left no room for objection.
“After all you’ve done, you think my mom’s still going to have a float at Mardi Gras?” She looked horrified. “Just carry on as normal? Like her daughter hasn’t been kidnapped?”
“She is.”
“How do you know? You’re lying.”
“One thing I’m not is a liar. Put it on.”