And she’s huddled against the thick concrete railing, looking small and vulnerable.
I stalk toward her, blood pumping for a taste of her.
“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake.” Her voice trembles, but she still meets my gaze. It’s cute, really. Fucking adorable. I’ll enjoy hearing her voice shake the rest of the night. Enjoy her meeting my gaze while she’s naked and shuddering in climax.
“No mistake. I saw you. I wanted you.”
Alarm fills her pretty hazel eyes. “Here?”
Curiosity slides through me, warm and rarer than fine brandy. What a question. Here? It meant she was open to fucking me somewhere else. Of course, I won’t wait for that. My dick throbs inside my tux pants, demanding to get inside her. Before that I want to touch her, to taste her. I want to own her body in every way.
“People come to the ball for two reasons, sweetheart. To screw someone or to get screwed. So which one is it?”
She shakes her head, hard, almost desperately. A tendril of honey-brown hair slides loose and bounces against her cheek. “I need to talk to you first.”
First. Another curious statement. As if she had intended to fuck me all along, this innocent fairy I’d captured. Like a butterfly. So fragile. I’d tear her wings if I wasn’t careful.
And fuck, I’m never careful.
I step close to her, grasping the loose lock of hair, pulling until she falls against me. “I’m not really the chatty type. I want to fuck you. Are you going to fight me?”
“No,” she gasps, but she’s already fighting. Her small fists push against my chest.
My free hand captures her wrists, leaving her immobile. God, she’s slender. Almost frail. I could break her bones if I squeezed too hard. Something cold moves inside me at the thought of her hurt. “Talk,” I mutter. “You have between now and the time I take your dress off to talk.”
Whatever it is she wants—orgasms or money or a bullet sunk into some poor bastard’s heart—I’m going to find out what it is. It will be her present. Never let it be said that Sebastian Conti left a woman unsatisfied. And in return she’ll give me her body.
“Mr. Conti,” she says.
I press her up against the railing, letting her feel my erection through our clothes. God, the heat of her. She’s a flame, and I want to burn. “Sebastian.”
Lucia hesitates, so I yank at the red strap over her shoulder. It’s a warning.
“Sebastian,” she gasps. “I need your help.”
She has until the dress comes off to finish. I can rip the delicate crimson fabric in one hard pull. I can turn her over the rail and fuck her with the dress still on. This can be over as fast as I want, but I find I want her slow.
And some deep-seated part of me wants to hear what she has to tell me.
Does she want money? Or maybe someone has sent her to smooth the way for a business deal. The thought makes my stomach turn. I don’t want anyone using her that way. Only me.
I press my lip to the skin at her collarbone. God, how is she so pale? And she tastes like air. Air when I’ve been underwater my whole life. “What kind of help?”
Except I have a lifetime of not fighting fair.
My mouth finds the curve where her neck meets her shoulder. And I bite down. Hard. She sucks in a breath, body shivering in my embrace. She can’t answer me, her whole body reacting to pain. And then the sweetest response—her hips pushing against my cock. Involuntary. Perfect.
It’s enough to give her space.
“My family,” she says, panting for breath, voice tremulous. “They’re in trouble. You—”
“I’m threatening them, is that it? What did they do? Default on a debt? Steal from me? And you came here to plead for their lives.”
Her brown eyes stare up at me, so ridiculously guileless. “I came here to pay for them.”
My hand fists in all that golden hair, pulling tight. “Oh no, Lucia. You won’t get away from me that easily. One fuck and you leave? A taste of your sweet pussy and then you’ll take it away?”
A moment, her chest heaving.
So pretty with her eyes wide and lost. I almost could have imagined she’d wandered into the wrong place, except that she knew me. She was made for me. She’s the breath of fresh air I needed, and I’m not letting her go.
Her arms push, suddenly, surprising me with their strength. It’s not enough to move me away, but it’s enough to give me pause.
Brown eyes burn with determination. “They didn’t do anything to you. Anything but exist. Anything but inconvenience you, by living, by working for you.”
And that’s when it hits me, where I’ve seen those eyes like sky.
“The textile shop,” I grind out, pissed to hell. The fucking textile shop twenty miles outside the city. The sisters who own it. The profits that didn’t add up.
And the plain little secretary who’d captivated me from the first. The cheap suit she’d worn that day is a far cry from the red dress sliding over her body now. Her ugly shoes so different from the gold heels on her feet now.
I hadn’t even recognized her.
Or maybe some part of me had, because I’d wanted her as soon as I saw her.
The balcony door opens, spilling light and sound over her then. I turn to see Margo Rizzoli, dark eyes blazing with fury. The woman has a lot to answer for, starting with why Lucia seems to believe her family will be killed. And ending with interrupting me when I’m finally going to fuck the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.
“You stupid slut,” she snarls, eyes laser beam focused over my shoulder.
A guard rushes behind her, eyes hard. “I’m sorry, Mr. Conti. Her sister set up a distraction so she could get out here. I’ll get rid of her.”
“No.” I’m planning to get answers. More than that, I’m going to hold her accountable for whatever fucked-up shit happened in that factory to put fear into Lucia’s vicious eyes.
A rustle of fabric, a brush of wind.
I glance back to reassure Lucia that I’ll fix this. All I see is a flash of honey-gold hair as she slips over the balcony. Her gold heels lay sideways where she stood. “Fuck.”
She might have broken her leg, but by the time I lean over the railing, she’s disappeared. “Fucking hold her,” I growl to the guard, knowing he’ll contact the rest of the team.
Then I drop over the balcony after her. Except she’s already gone.
CHAPTER SIX
Lucia
It takes me longer to retrace my steps to the meeting point than it did to get there. Mostly because I’m barefoot. The terrain had been bumpy in heels, but it’s downright painful on feet that haven’t been outside in years. I wince with every step over stones and twigs. Once I have to hide in a hollow tree while a man with a flashlight and a headset goes by.
Eventually I reach the meeting point, where Jorge’s car waits. His gaze slides over me, insolent and hungry. “Where are your shoes?”
“I lost them. Let’s go.”
Without a word, he pushes off the side of the car and gets in. I swing into the back seat, because he can’t reach me here. I know it’s only a matter of time before he touches me. That was part of the bargain. He helps me in exchange for sex.