Beautiful Beast (Perfectly Imperfect: Mafia Legacy #1)

Without another word, he turns around and steps outside. A moment later, I hear his footfalls as he climbs the ladder to the flybridge, and shortly after, the yacht engines come to life.

The leather rim of the yacht’s steering wheel creaks from the force of my grip. For the past twenty minutes, I’ve barely kept a leash on my temper, barely prevented myself from storming down to the main deck—where Vasilisa has been hiding this whole time—and demanding an explanation.

The list of things I need her to explain is rather long. Starting with why the fuck did she act like a scared little guppy just moments after she so beautifully shattered in my arms. I didn’t expect cuddles, but I did fucking want her to look at me. She had no problem looking at my face before. Did having sex with me disgust her? Because of how I look? I wouldn’t be surprised if a beauty like her has only ever had pretty boys as lovers.

Red haze covers my eyes at the idea of other men who have been close enough to her to touch her. Who have touched her. I grit my teeth and squeeze the wheel harder. I’ll rip apart any man who’s ever put his hands on her in the past and any fucker who might think he has a chance to do it in the future. Vasilisa Petrova is mine. Mine! And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she wants to stay with me.

I’m steering the yacht back to the marina when I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. A speedboat, anchored by the sea stack at the entrance to a cove, just up the coast from here. The Mediterranean might be in the public domain, but everyone in this part of Sicily knows that these waters are mine. So it’s either stupid tourists or my godfather’s men. No one else would be crazy enough to wander here.

I pilot the yacht to the dock and head to the starboard side to throw the marina boy the rope.

“Don’t tie it,” I bark. “I’m heading out again right away.”

The faint tapping of small bare feet sounds behind me. I turn around and find Vasilisa standing with the laptop bag in her hands, staring at the deck.

“I called Guido. He’s coming to drive you to the house.”

She looks up, her eyes finally meeting mine. “What about you?”

I don’t reply. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I pick her up and, holding her to my side, leap onto the dock.

“Put some after-sun lotion on your face when you get back. You’ve got a bit of a sunburn.” I lower her to the ground and jump back on board the yacht.

The marina boy tosses the rope to me. I coil it neatly and, without bothering to look back at Vasilisa, climb up to the flybridge and start the boat, taking it out in reverse. I last about thirty seconds before I kill the engines and turn my eyes toward the marina.

Vasilisa is still on the dock, her hair fluttering in the wind. I can’t see her eyes from this distance, but she is looking in my direction. Standing several feet away, the marina boy is staring at her. I snap. Grabbing the phone from my pocket, I dial the salivating little shit.

“Signor De Santi?”

“Keep staring at my woman one second longer,” I snarl, “and I’ll turn back to gouge your eyes from your stupid head!”

“Of course, Signor De Santi,” he wheezes.

I cut the call and cross my arms over my chest, watching my little hacker. She enjoyed being fucked by me. There was no mistaking the sweet little sounds—the moans and whimpers—she made, or how her body trembled under my touch. The way she clung to me while I pumped into her. How beautifully she unraveled in my embrace. The problem developed only once we were done. After she realized she let the monster take her.

Well, I can’t change the way I look, but I will find a way to make her see past my appearance.

She flushed my check down the toilet. Threw my flowers away. She even refused the jewelry I bought for her. Maybe it wasn’t opulent enough? I should have known better and gotten her something more expensive. A mistake I won’t repeat. No matter how good-looking, no man can compete with my power and will. And none can provide for her the way I can. I need to make her understand that.

Her attention gets snagged by an approaching vehicle. Guido parks his sports car next to the path that leads to the dock. I keep my eyes on Vasilisa as she throws one last look in my direction, then walks up to Guido and his ride. Only after she’s safely inside my brother’s pride and joy do I turn on the engines and steer the yacht back toward the cove where I saw that suspicious boat.

No stars tonight. Just a tiny sliver of moonlight that had punched its way through the clouds, not even enough to illuminate the garden below the balcony. I can barely make out the shapes of a few olive trees in the distance and the oleander shrub next to the antique water pump at the edge of the lawn. Everything else is murky, just like my feelings. I tighten my hold on the massive bath towel wrapped around me while I run my hairbrush through my still-wet hair and sigh.

What am I going to do when Rafael comes home? He still isn’t back from whatever caused him to storm out on his yacht this afternoon, and I’ve been on pins and needles for hours. Can I pretend that nothing happened between us? I don’t think I can. Every time I close my eyes, I’m back in that water again, reliving every second of it. Reproaching myself for enjoying it too much. For wanting him.

“You’ll catch a cold, Vasilisa.”

I tense.

Steps. Slow and determined, coming closer. Warmth at my back as Rafael halts just behind me. Fabric rustling, and then he puts his suit jacket over my shoulders.

“Did you put something on that sunburn?”

“Yes,” I whisper, staring at the grounds below. “Where did you go on your boat earlier?”

“I thought I spotted trespassers. But it was just dumb tourists.” His hands come to rest on the balcony railing, one on either side of me. “After, I had to drop by Messina to resolve a fuckup with a local drug gang.”

“I didn’t know you dealt in drugs.”