All business, he grabbed a chair from a nearby table, straddled it in front of her, and rested his arms on the back. Her gaze drifted to his powerful forearms, the soft hair, strong wrists, and Toscani tattoo. Sexy. She’d never thought a man’s arms could be arousing, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away.
“What were you doing there? Tell me.” His voice was pure steel, sharp and biting.
A shiver of excitement ran down her spine. She wanted to obey and resist, both at the same time, but a life of secrecy in the mob overrode her desire. “I can’t tell you.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, bella.” He reached out and touched her cheek.
Unable to read his intentions, Mia shuddered.
“Shhh.” He rubbed his thumb gently over her skin and held it up for her to see. “Blood.”
Papà’s blood. A wave of emotion threatened to breach her walls at his hushed voice and gentle touch after all the horrendous events of the evening. She dipped her head so he didn’t see her falter. “I wasn’t there by consent. Well, not real consent. So now you know the truth. You can let me go.”
“No.”
“Could you at least pretend to think about it?” She tipped her head to the side, looked up at him through her lashes, hating herself as she did. But this was a matter of life or death, and she couldn’t let pride take away her only advantage.
His eyes sparked, amused. “If you killed those men, you will die either by my hand or another. If you didn’t, then you are safer here with me until the shooter is found.”
“So you kidnapped me and tied me up to protect me?” She almost laughed at the irony. Only in death could she finally be equal to a man in the Mafia world.
“Some might say I’m protecting myself.” He reached out and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, his touch so gentle, it was almost a caress.
Uncontrollable desire pooled in her stomach. Anticipation and fear warred inside her as his touch lingered. “Are you afraid I’ll grab a gun and try to shoot my way out of a room full of wiseguys?”
His fingers trailed down her neck, rested in the hollow at the base of her throat. She felt the throb of her exposed pulse, as heat swept through her body.
“I’m not afraid of girls with guns, bella. They either don’t know how to shoot or they don’t have what it takes to pull the trigger.”
“Then you’ve never met a woman like me.” Her hoarse, throaty voice betrayed her desire.
He leaned forward, whispered in her ear, his voice dangerously seductive. “No, but I’m looking forward to our acquaintance.”
Her body turned to liquid heat, but before she could retort, he pushed himself up and rounded her chair.
She felt his hands on her wrists, and the ropes gave way. He massaged her forearms, gently running his thumbs over her tender skin. His touch sent an electric spark through her, wicked and hot. How would it feel to have those hands on her most intimate parts, his powerful body covering her own?
“Are you letting me go?”
“I’m letting you clean up.” He led her to a small hallway along the side of the clubhouse and gestured to a filthy, decrepit washroom, all rusted pipes and peeling wallpaper. “You can wash in here.”
Thrown off by Nico’s sudden change in demeanor, Mia turned to close the door only to find him in the doorway.
“Can I have some privacy?”
“No.” He leaned against the doorjamb, folded his arms, his muscles straining beneath his fine cotton shirt. Her nipples tightened at his hot, unwavering stare.
With a sigh, she turned to the sink her gaze sweeping over the grungy bathroom for anything she could use as a weapon or a means of escape. She spotted a window over the toilet, and a thrill of excitement shot through her. Although too small for a man, she was pretty sure she could squeeze through. If she had oriented herself correctly, it opened into the alley they had driven down as they came around the garage. Forcing herself to look away, she washed her face, cringing when the water in the sink turned pink.
She felt Nico’s hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. He dabbed at her cheeks with paper towel, wiping away the blood and water. Something flickered and flamed inside her, desire pushing fear away.
“Who did this?” he demanded, his fingers brushing over her sore, swollen cheek.
Mia opened her mouth to answer and closed it again. Family business was never discussed outside the family, and she would be a fool to forget who he was. A predator. And a dangerous one at that.
“It must have been the same person who did this.” His finger traced along the tear in her dress to the crescent of her breast, his touch feather light on her skin. Unnerved by the arousing effect he had on her body, Mia slapped his hand away.
His expression hardened, any hint of softness gone. “A little respect, bella.”
“Respect goes both ways.”
A cool stare. “So it does.”
Her gaze moved over his face, searching for the man behind the mask. Instead she found something raw and primal—lust, barely contained, as fierce as her own.