"You like it, don't you?"
"What?" I managed to breathe.
"The fear, Miss Night," he mused, "you crave it."
_______________________________________
Sabina Night owes Antonio Marafi her life.
But when he asks her to spy on the Russo crime family, Sabin...
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"That's barbaric," I scolded, holding an ice pack to Gio's jaw. Marco, apparently, was only able to manage one or two punches on him but he sure made certain that they counted.
Gio's jaw was an angry red, already starting to turn purple. He sat patiently at my island counter while I held the ice pack against his face.
"Marco was baiting me. Testing me," Gio explained. "It's an unwritten rule on how we show which of our... partners we're serious about. Which ones we'll fight for the respect of."
That was still crazy. Antiquated. Barbaric. But at least it made sense why he had to have that reaction. It also made sense why Jacob said the Don wouldn't question our attachment any longer.
"Well, fortunately for you, that means we no longer have to play in our charade and you can go back about your gloomy life," I teased.
I handed the ice pack to him to hold against his own jaw and leaned back against the counter, crossing my arms. Gio frowned, shifting back in the chair and lowering the ice from his face. The bruise looked like a shadow on his jawline, making the curve of the bone more severe.
"We're not done," Gio countered. "We stop now and Gabriele knows that I lied to him. We're not even close to being done, Miss Night."
Gabriele Russo. It wasn't until Gio said his name that I finally realized that I didn't actually know the Don's first name. Somehow giving him a first name took away a little bit of the apprehension I had when I thought of him.
My brows narrowed, scowling. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Now that he was far enough away from me that I could think straight, I remembered the men in his office. I remembered Marafi's theory. The thought of cozying up, even if it was fake, to somebody who was involved in that type of business made me sick. My freedom wasn't worth that— not if I would hate myself once I earned it.
Gio cleared his throat and leaned forward on the counter, his fingertips steepled beneath his chin.
"Would you prefer discussing your whereabouts and your general mood toward me this evening or later?"
"I don't want to—"
"Great, this evening it is."
I glared at him, gripping the sides of the counter until my fingertips were white. What was the harm in asking him about it though? Other than the fact that he would know for sure that I was listening at the door while he held a meeting.
But I couldn't do my job until I knew. Until I knew for sure that he was not that kind of man. Even I was not a good enough pretender to fake my way through that.
"Did you know?" I finally asked.
"Did I know what, leoncina? I know lots of—"
"That you were doing business with human traffickers?"
