Beautiful Beast (Perfectly Imperfect: Mafia Legacy #1)

“Yes, I think that sums up the situation rather well. I’m offering three million for your services.”

A hysterical laugh escapes me. He’s insane! “You can take your millions and shove them up your ass! I demand to be sent home. Right the fuck now.”

“I’m afraid that’s not an option.” Rafael takes out his phone and tosses it to me. “Play the video.”

I almost don’t catch the thing.

The still image displays high-rise rooftops. The familiar play control taunts me from the center of the screen. I press the triangle, starting the video.

Sky. Rooftops. The camera pans, focusing on a man in an all-black tactical outfit, lying close to the building’s edge. He’s holding a sniper rifle pointed at something on the ground, his eye is trained on the scope.

The view shifts to the left, zooming in on a top-floor window of the building across the street. Another man with a long-range weapon.

I swallow past the knot in my throat, and my grip on the phone tightens.

The camera moves again, to the sidewalk thirty or so stories below. Then, the angle suddenly changes—the same sidewalk, but now the video is being taken from street level. The shot is of a couple, standing with their backs to the lens. The woman has long black hair, and she’s clutching the man’s forearm in a viselike grip while he holds a phone to his ear. He looks down at the woman and shakes his head, then lowers the phone. They turn around, and rush down the street.

The wineglass slips from my hand and crashes on the stone tiles beneath my bare feet, shards ricocheting everywhere around me.

Mom and Dad.

“You bastard,” I whisper. My lips tremble as I stare at the screen.

“Everyone has a price.” Rafael’s deep voice breaks through my stupor, sounding closer than earlier.

Turning in the direction of that baritone, I come abreast of the broad male chest. I tilt my head up. And up. The light from inside the house has turned Rafael’s enormous form into a silhouette, and his face remains hidden by shadows.

“What do you need me to do?” I nearly sob.

His hands take hold of my waist, lifting me. I drop the phone, grabbing at his forearms and kicking my legs.

“Let go of me!”

Rafael ignores my protests, hoisting me higher until our faces are nearly aligned. His breath fans my skin while the woodsy aroma of cypress and citrusy notes of oranges tingle my nostrils. It’s the scent I smelled in the upstairs bedroom. His bedroom. A small shudder runs down my spine, but this time, it’s not from fear. His presence is so profound, I’m finding it hard to draw enough air into my lungs. He seems absolutely unperturbed by the possible consequences of his actions, and I don’t think he’s faking it. He actually doesn’t give a fuck, completely unconcerned about my father’s wrath.

“What do you want from me?” I ask again.

He pulls me a little closer. The way he casually holds me, a foot off the ground, is distressing. But in a ridiculously sensual sort of way.

“I want you to overhaul my digital security systems, Miss Petrova.”

Barely containing my laughter, I watch the expression on Vasilisa’s face change from confusion to absolute shock. You’d think I just asked her to kill someone for me.

“You kidnapped me so I could upgrade your firewalls?”

Did I? I’m not exactly sure. When I ordered my men to deliver the fucking hacker, I intended to torture the stupid dick for a bit as punishment for screwing around with my business, and then dispose of him. I never expected a slip-of-a-girl. One who gave my men a beatdown, then tried to slice open my throat. I think that’s the first time ever a woman has tried to kill me. And I find it hot as hell.

“Not just the firewalls. I want you to analyze the digital environment used by my company and then rewrite the security protocols for every IT system.”

Vasilisa’s eyes widen in pure astonishment. With the light at my back reflecting in her dark-as-night irises, those expressive orbs seem aglow. Between her fury and determination, this unpredictable woman has fire in her doe-like eyes. Beautiful doesn’t even come close to describing her.

A soft, creamy complexion. Thin, arched eyebrows that frame those mesmerizing onyx eyes. Prominent cheekbones tapering gently to a narrow chin. Small, straight nose. And then, there’s her delectable pink mouth, with rosy, kissable lips. The lower one is slightly fuller than the upper, beckoning a man to pull it between his teeth. Every part of her facial features is perfect, so much so that the entire thing defies reality. The sight is simply unearthly, and it’s impossible to look away from her.

“That could take days,” she blurts out.

Yes, in theory. In reality, however, it will take as long as I want it to take. Vasilisa Petrova might be the most beautiful creature who has ever crossed my path, but for the first time in my life, I’m drawn to a woman because of more than just her looks.

She’s bold. Courageous. Feisty. But also kind of grumpy, in such an adorable way.