Beautiful Beast (Perfectly Imperfect: Mafia Legacy #1)

I hit Enter, saving the changes I’ve made, and take a peek at Rafael. He’s leaning with his back on the helm console, hands in his pockets, watching me. The wind has made a mess out of his hair, and several strands of his dark tresses have fallen across his forehead, making him look less harsh somehow. I can’t believe that a man who hunted me down, had me kidnapped, and then flown halfway around the world so he could wreck me himself for daring to invade his domain, values my skills more than my own father.

“What did your sister say?”

“She asked why I was calling at six in the morning.” I completely forgot about the time difference when I phoned her earlier. “Then, she said Dad sent out a Mafia version of an APB about me.”

“Oh? How does that work?”

“I guess he called every criminal syndicate in the country and threatened to annihilate whichever one is holding me hostage. Or anyone who has info on my whereabouts but hasn’t shared it.”

“So he still believes you’re somewhere in the continental US?”

“Yes. I’m usually more careful when I check in with Dad, always keeping the time difference in mind.”

“Interesting.” Rafael smirks. “Someone might figure that you’re actually enjoying your stay in Sicily.”

I blink, then quickly look away when the realization hits me—I am enjoying it here. Being with him.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I mumble, pretending to work again. “Can you call Mitch and ask if the new login credentials for the client database are working on his side?”

“No.”

My head snaps up. “Why not?”

“Because we should go for a swim first.”

I suck in a breath. Images of Rafael without his clothes on flood my mind, setting off a tingling sensation in my core. Wrong. So so wrong. I can’t be falling for a man who left me a check as payment for the kisses we shared. Who won’t allow me to return home.

Clearing my goddamned mind is useless. Those thoughts invade me again, even more intense and erotic. The two of us, naked, as he covers my body with his. Rough palms stroking my skin while his piercing green eyes singe right through me. Killer’s eyes. I’m turned on and ready to combust in spite of him being a cold-blooded murderer. Or maybe . . . maybe it’s those sinister vibes he gives off that make him more alluring.

“Um . . . I’m going to skip it. There’s some stuff I need to wrap up.” I quickly look back at the laptop.

“Suit yourself.”

His hand brushes my arm as he walks by me, heading to the main deck. I keep my eyes glued to the screen, but eventually, my curiosity gets the better of me. Tempted by a force stronger than my willpower, I throw a look over my shoulder to the swim platform at the rear of the boat. But I don’t see him. Rising a bit out of my seat, I spot Rafael at the frontmost point of the yacht, unbuttoning his shirt. All the air rushes out of my lungs as I watch him remove the garment, revealing his perfectly defined broad back.

His pants are next.

I’m still lightheaded, taken aback by how beautiful he is, when he hooks his fingers into the waistband of his underwear. Oh my God, he wouldn’t! The briefs slide down, giving me the briefest glance at his amazing hard ass before he dives overboard. His body soars in a straight line for a split second, and a heartbeat later, a splash in the water sounds below.

My palms are pressed to my burning cheeks. I can’t believe he did that. And he’ll be naked when he climbs back onto the yacht, meaning I’ll be able to see everything I missed in that lightning-fast glimpse. All six and a half feet of buck naked, wet, magnificent male body.

How am I going to feign indifference to that?

I scramble off the sunbed, intending to hide somewhere on the main deck until Rafael is once more clothed, but the overwhelming urge to see him gets to me again. Maybe I could just have a quick look without him noticing?

Crouching low to the deck, I sneak to the front of the helm station and peek over the side, trying to see beyond the bow of the boat. The deep blue waters are still, except for the gentle ripples on the surface. Zero bare-assed assassins anywhere in sight. I run to the back of the flybridge, but it’s the same. Just the calm vastness of the Mediterranean.

“Rafael?” I call.

Nothing.

Where the fuck is he? How long can a person stay underwater? It’s been at least two minutes. I scramble back to the open cockpit and descend the metal ladder to the rear of the boat and then the steps to the waterline.

“Rafael!” I yell from the swim platform, scanning the depths in vain. “This is not funny!”

Did he drown? What if something has eaten him? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! I shove down my shorts and fling off my top, remaining only in a matching set of a white lace bra and panties. My heart is pounding in my chest, and worry for Rafael is pressing me down, but I can’t make myself step off that platform into the sea. Ever since I watched Jaws, I have a deep-rooted fear of sharks. I can swim well enough, but only in swimming pools.

“Rafael!” I scream this time, drawing out his name. There’s no answer.