Beautiful Beast (Perfectly Imperfect: Mafia Legacy #1)

The scent of cypress and oranges tingles my nostrils as Rafael carries me up the uneven stone steps that lead to the mansion. Olive trees line the trail on either side, creating a natural canopy and a tunnel-like atmosphere over the winding path. Once in a while, moonlight breaks through the overhead branches and casts sharp angular shadows that dance across his face. With mere inches between us, I can feel every movement of his powerful frame. The vibrations send an electric current zipping through all of my cells directly to my spine.

And lower.

It shouldn’t feel this good, being snuggled into him like this. But it does. Maybe it’s the wine. I don’t feel that drunk, but I don’t see any other explanation for why I enjoy being held by him so much.

“If I say I’m sorry for being a shitty host, will you accept my gift?”

I raise an eyebrow. “I’ll certainly consider it. But you’d need to actually say it.”

A deep, thunderous roar fills the darkness as he laughs.

“I’m sorry for my insolence,” he says, amusement still lingering in his tone. “And for the treatment you received from my men. Hank has been sent back to Chicago, so he won’t bother you again.” These words carry none of the mirth of the earlier statement.

“Alone? What about his sidekick, Vinny?”

“Vinny . . . has been dismissed.”

“You fired him?”

“Mm-hmm. I guess you could say that.” He bends as we pass under one of the lower branches, and his cheek brushes my forehead. “I’ll have someone drive you to Taormina tomorrow so you can buy whatever clothes you need.” His cologne tingles my nostrils, but not in that irritating way that makes me want to sneeze. Oh no. It beckons me, urging me to get closer and take another sniff.

“Can’t you take me?” I blurt out.

Rafael halts. I can feel his chest rise and fall.

“I can,” he says, his voice sounding clipped as he resumes his stride. “But if you change your mind, I’ll have Otto drive you.”

“Why would I change my mind?”

He does not answer.

We emerge from the rock garden and approach the mansion across the immaculate lawn. There are no more trees around us, just fresh-smelling grass and fragrant flower beds, bathed in the soft light of the moon. Those lines on Rafael’s face which I thought were dancing shadows? They stay in place, despite the lack of branches above our heads.

Pebbles crunch under my feet, the tiny sounds fracture the silence around us, as I carry Vasilisa. I feel her eyes on my face as I ascend the terrace steps. The light above the French doors that lead inside the living room is on. The same for the interior of the house. No more shadows to hide within.

My gaze is fixed on the path before me, and I keep moving with measured strides. Will she scream or simply faint in my arms? Somehow I doubt my little hacker is a screamer, so I ready myself for her body going limp. I take that final step and halt directly under the light fixture.

Waiting.

A moment passes.

I take a deep breath.

Look down.

For a second, I’m taken aback by how beautiful she is up close. Two dark eyes focus on me through long silky lashes, skimming over my features just as mine did with hers. A couple of heartbeats is usually the longest it takes before people look away after seeing me. But Vasilisa takes her time, examining every jagged line of the mess that is my face. She doesn’t even bat an eye. Maybe she’s in shock.

Finally, her gaze meets mine.

“I could have sworn you were blond, Rafael.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “That’s it?”

“What?”

“Your reaction. You’re not going to scream?”

“Oh, it takes a lot more effort for a guy to make me scream.”