Chapter Nine
The cool night air filled my lungs. I was glad for the reprieve from Leona’s tantalizing scent. I wanted to bent her over the hood of my car and bury myself to the hilt in her. Fuck, I wanted to do it over and over again. I wasn’t sure why these damn freckles and cornflower eyes got to me, but they fucking did. Perhaps she could see it in my expression. I’d never seen her more uneasy in my company than in that car.
I ran a hand through my hair, still damp from my earlier shower. I’d pummeled the fucking boxing bag for too long and almost been late for the date. In the last couple of years I’d mainly dealt with whores or pole dancers, and the occasional society girl. It was always clear from the start what they wanted: money, drugs or attention from the press. They weren’t shy. They wanted something from me, so they showed me what they could offer. Sex with them had been a satisfying joyride without holding back. Leona was different.
Her shyness irritated and fascinated me at the same time. She was a challenge I’d never had, and my body was eager to conquer it. Too fucking eager.
She stepped out of the car, looking almost flustered. She kept her eyes trained on the sight below us as she came around the car. Her hands were clutching the tacky old backpack.
“You are obsessed with that thing,” I said, feeling the irritating urge to lighten the mood and set her at ease.
She let out a small laugh, eyes crinkling. “I thought it went well with my shoes.” She lifted her foot a couple of inches.
My gaze went to her dark green leather flats, then up to the backpack of unidentifiable color. Perhaps it had been beige a long time ago. She was definitely the first woman that came to a date with me, holding a fucking backpack. I chuckled. “Remind me that next time we go shopping, I’ll buy you one of those fancy purses girls go crazy over.”
Her eyebrows shot up, then drew together. “You can’t keep buying things for me.”
I swiveled my body around, so we were standing close as I leveled my gaze on her. She didn’t back off, but I could see goose bumps rise along her arms. “Who’s going to stop me?”
Remo couldn’t care less if I spent my money on women, cars or property, as long as I didn’t start betting or gambling, or worse neglect my duties.
“I will?” It was voiced more a question than a statement.
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
Her frown deepened and she sighed. “I’m no good at playing these power games. I don’t want to be.”
“Who said this is a power game?”
“Isn’t it always? With men it’s always about exerting dominance. And you…” She shook her head.
“And I?” I prompted.
“Everything you do is a sign of dominance. When I saw you in the fighting cage that was perhaps the most relaxed you ever acted. But outside of it, you are like a hunter, always looking for someone who might dare to challenge your status.”
I smiled. She seemed to think she knew me. She’d seen a lot in her life. I got that, but the world I’d grown up in was a very different kind of shark tank. “In our world, you are either hunter or prey, Leona. I know what I am. What are you?”
I pressed my palms against her bare shoulders, then slid them lower, watching her reaction. She shivered. She didn’t push me away though, but I could tell that she was thinking about it.
“Prey,” she admitted reluctantly. “I will always be.” She looked past me toward Las Vegas, looking lost and resigned.
My hands stilled on her back. This unguarded admission did something strange to me. It unleashed a protective, fierce side I hadn’t experienced toward a woman since I’d been a scrawny kid and tried to defend my sisters. The soft breeze was tugging at her brown curls as she lost herself in the sight of the city.
I bent down and kissed her ear. She released a shuddering breath. “Perhaps you need a protector, so you stop being easy prey.”
“Am I easy prey?” she asked quietly.
I didn’t bother replying. We both knew how it was. And in a city like this, a city ruled by us, a girl like her was lost. “Do you want a protector?”
She closed her eyes as I kissed the skin below her ear. For once she made it hard to read her. “And you think you can be my protector?”
I could protect her against almost any threat. Not against the Camorra. And not against myself. But it wasn’t something I should consider. “You saw me fight. Do you doubt it?”
She opened her eyes and tilted her head up toward me, blue eyes soft and probing. “No,” she said. “But I think you and your way of life are threats too.”