He frowns at the statement, turning around to face me completely. “If he was my enemy, do you think you’d still be alive, standing in front of me in clothes that I bought and food in your belly that I told my cooks to make?” He shakes his head, wagging a finger. “I am not your enemy, little girl.”
I narrow my eyes. “You are my enemy.”
“Excuse me?”
“You had my husband killed!”
He lets out a bitter chuckle. “You mean Trigger Toni? Yeah, I had him killed. It was a personal order, in fact, and it needed to be done.”
His smugness is like a stab in the gut and the heart. I grimace as I storm forward, rushing around the tall art table. All of my morals are lost, my rage on full display. I stop just in time to save myself. I don’t get too close to touch him. Just close enough to really see him.
His tan skin is clear of any markings or scars. His lips are fuller than I thought. Pink. His eyelashes are long and thick.
His eyes flash with an amount of intimidation I’ve never seen before. He inclines a brow, his glare telling me to choose wisdom over stupidity.
It would be dumb of me to hurt or threaten him, but I need answers. Now.
“Why?” I demand.
“Why what?”
“Why did you have my husband killed?”
He folds his arms. “He was a liar. A pig. A rabid animal that needed to be put down, gently or not. He was a murderer—”
“Yeah, and so are you!”
His face changes. He drops his arms and steps forward with flared nostrils and a clenched jaw. “Watch your fucking tone around me, little girl. I allowed you into my home. Show some goddamn respect.”
“Respect the man who left me alone with those brutes? Why should I?” I challenge, and I am terribly afraid of his answer.
He looks me over before locking eyes with me again. “Because if you don’t, I won’t be so keen to let you live. Having you here burdens me more than it aids me. Don’t make me end up breaking your precious little neck.”
And he could, with hands his size. My petite frame is no match for him, no matter how bold I want to be right now.
My lips smash together. I step back several steps and fold my arms tightly over my chest. “I’d rather be dead than in the same home of the man that killed my husband.”
“Oh really?” He scowls. “Then go. But don’t expect my protection. It won’t be easy finding your way out of here, but even if you do manage to escape, the damage that’ll be done to you will be beyond repair. While you are here, under my fucking roof, no one touches you. But when you’re out of my hands…well…” He flashes a devilish smile. “…I don’t give a fuck what happens to you then, niñita.”
An eerie smirk sweeps across his full lips. He’s so full of himself and it truly grates my nerves.
As badly as I want to run, I can’t. Not until I figure out where the hell I am and actually have a plan to back myself up. For all I know, we’re in the middle of nowhere—on an island or something. It has to be the right time. Anything could happen to me.
I’m surrounded by ignorant pigs and their grimy thoughts. I know it’s ironic to say, but the boss seems like the most decent of them all…but no kindness now will ever be able to make up for what he’s done.
“Can I go back to the room?” I ask, and hate that my voice cracks.
“Go.” He turns his back to me, picking up a paintbrush from the cup on the stand.
I turn rapidly, and rush for the door with cloudy vision. My anger has blinded me tenfold.
Before I can open the door, the boss calls after me, and what he calls me causes a gasp to spill through my parted lips. It’s not niñita or green eyes.
“Gianna Nicotera,” he says, as if he’s familiar with my name. The way it rolls off his tongue—his accent enhancing the sound of it—makes me wonder if I know this man at all. He seems familiar, but I can’t place it.
He’s not too much older than I am.
I glance over my shoulder at him. His back is still facing me, his fingertips running along the fine wooden handle of his paintbrush.
“Breakfast is at eight a.m. sharp. Be on time or you will regret it. I don’t admire tardiness.”
I don’t give a shit what he admires. He doesn’t own or control me. Fucking bastard.
I snatch the door open and storm out, but the tall man calls after me from his corner, quickly shaking his head. “I take you back. You don’t walk freely around here, bitch. Not until he says so.”