by Monica Burns
Now as he watched her cross the floor in his direction, the memory of those visions sent a powerful surge of lust pounding through his veins. Christus, what would it be like to peel that dress off of those beautiful hips, that gorgeous body. The thought shot an icy chill through him. He needed to find a way to control this attraction he was feeling for her. If he didn’t, everything he held dear would be in jeopardy. And he couldn’t let that happen.
“Bellissima.” Placido’s voice was gruff and full of appreciation as Cleopatra stopped in front of them. “Dante, introduce me to this exquisite creature.”
“Cleopatra, this is il mio signore, Placido Castillo,” he said quietly, avoiding Cleopatra’s gaze.
“Cleopatra.” The ancient Sicari Lord said her name as if it were a prayer. Placido’s obvious infatuation shot an unfamiliar emotion streaking through Dante as he watched his mentor take his time kissing Cleopatra’s hand. “Your beauty rivals that of your namesake, carissima. You will sit next to me at supper.”
“I would be honored.” The husky sound of her voice made Placido beam at her, and Dante bit down on the inside of his cheek. The old man was acting half his age at the moment.
“Excellent,” the ancient warrior exclaimed with delight. “I understand you’re going to be staying with us for a while. We’ll have to have Dante find an assignment for you.”
“I don’t think the Tribune knows quite what to do with me, il mio signore.”
Amusement filled Cleopatra’s voice, but her violet eyes still glittered with anger as she looked at him. It didn’t matter whether she was referring to earlier this afternoon or his invisible touch from a moment ago. She was absolutely right. He didn’t have a clue as to how to handle the woman. His collar grew tight around his neck, and he struggled not to tug at the shirt. Placido arched an eyebrow at him and grinned.
“Well, I’m not so old as to have forgotten what to do with a beautiful woman, carissima,” Placido said with a smirk.
The sexual innuendo in the Sicari Lord’s words made Dante stiffen as he glared at the old warrior. The man had always loved women, but he was far too old for Cleopatra. Amused by Placido’s comment, Cleopatra laughed. It was a low, sultry sound that sent another hot surge of lust barreling through Dante.
“Perhaps the Tribune simply needs to learn how to relax,” Cleopatra said in a stage whisper as she smiled haughtily in Dante’s direction. “He does seem a bit stiff, doesn’t he?”
For a fleeting instant, she glanced downward at his crotch, and his cock stirred in his trousers. As her gaze locked with his again, he clenched his jaw at the laughter dancing in her beautiful violet eyes. The woman knew she’d thrown him off balance, and she was enjoying the fact. Placido eyed him with a gleam of wicked amusement in his eyes as well.
“Don’t underestimate Tribune Condellaire, carissima. Once you get to know him better, I think you’ll find him to be quite charming.”
“Not to mention meticulous, thorough, and an organizational freak.” Cornelia’s voice was quietly neutral, but as Dante turned toward her, there was a twinkle in her eyes. He was about to retort, but his Praefect shifted her attention to Cleopatra and nodded. “Molto bene, the dress fits you perfectly.”
“I appreciate you letting me borrow it for the evening,” Cleopatra said with a dazzling smile. “When the Tribune said everyone dressed formally for supper, I was at a loss as to what to wear. I only own a couple of dresses, and they aren’t really formal.”
Dante felt the wind go out of his sails. So she hadn’t deliberately dressed like this to remind him what he’d lost this afternoon. His gaze shifted back to Cornelia, who was wearing a sedate-looking black dress. It was a flattering look, but it had none of the sex appeal of Cleopatra’s dress. Disappointment struck hard at the core of him. Fotte, he’d been insane to think she might have dressed to entice him. Punish him.
“Why haven’t we seen you wearing it before, Cornelia?” he asked.
Regret blistered through him as he heard Placido hide a snort of laughter behind a cough. The sound said the Sicari Lord had heard the annoyance in his voice and knew precisely why he was irritated. The old man was becoming a thorn in his side. Cornelia eyed him carefully, her expression closed off.
“I bought it on a whim. It’s fortunate that Signorina Vorenus and I are the same size.” Cornelia looked at Cleopatra with a genuine smile of satisfaction. It had been a long time since he’d seen his Praefect smile, and he could only assume it was because Cleopatra had brought them information that would help free Beatrice.
He watched with fascination as Cleopatra shook her head, her hair brushing across her bare shoulders. It was the first time he’d seen her hair free of the braid she’d worn since last night, and his fingers itched to slide through the silky darkness. She smiled at Cornelia.
“Please, call me Cleo. I’ve never been one to stand on formalities.” She looked down at her dress and ran one hand over her hip in a way that made him draw in a quick breath. A second later she offered Cornelia an impish grin. “Besides, good friends always borrow each other’s clothes.”
Cornelia laughed quietly, and it surprised him. Cleopatra had charmed his Praefect, and even Placido was enchanted with her. The sound of excited voices floated in their direction, and he looked past Cleopatra toward the small group of fighters entering the room.
The minute he heard the long, low whistle, he knew it was for Cleopatra, and a fierce territorial emotion slashed through him. She immediately turned her head and laughed. Even though she’d accepted the wolf whistle as a compliment, he directed a hard stare of displeasure at the newcomers. One of the younger fighters went crimson under Dante’s look, while a couple of his companions chuckled and nudged him in the side.
Before Dante could say anything, Cornelia took Cleopatra by the arm and guided her over to the small crowd. As his Praefect introduced her to the fighters, he noted how the men jostled one another to get close to her. Placido leaned toward him with a confiding air.
“The woman is enough to arouse even this old man.” Mischief filled the Sicari Lord’s voice, and Dante flashed him a glare.
“Is she?” He was pleased with his reserved, detached response.
“Lie to yourself, Tribune, but don’t lie to me,” Placido said with a snort of laughter. “I might be old, but my eyesight is still good. You can’t keep your eyes off the woman.”
“I’m more than capable of appreciating a beautiful woman without lusting after her,” he growled as he watched Cleopatra flirting with two of his best fighters. “Cleopatra is simply a test of my dedication.”
“Bah,” Placido snorted with disgust. “If you expect me to believe that, then you really think me a fool.”
“You’re not a fool,” he said with quiet sincerity. “But you are a meddlesome old man.”
“No,” the Sicari Lord said in an affectionate tone as he grasped Dante’s shoulder with his bony fingers. “I’m someone who cares about you and your future.”
He glanced in Placido’s direction to see a fatherly expression on the Sicari Lord’s face. With a brusque nod, he silently acknowledged the old man’s words. The ancient warrior squeezed his shoulder before he sent Dante a cheeky grin.
“Now then, I think I should go rescue our young lady from the attentions of all these hot-blooded males. Unless you care to do the honors?”
He shook his head despite his desire to do just as Placido suggested. With a shrug, the old man walked away. As he watched his friend reach the small crowd of Sicari males surrounding Cleopatra, Dante struggled with the violent need to drag her out of the room and away from them. A low groan rumbled in his chest. Deus, he was in deep waters.
The realization continued to plague him throughout the evening meal as he watched Cleopatra flirting with Placido and another of his fighters. Disgusted by his inability to ignore the way the Sicari Lord and Tony were making fools of themselves over her, Dante’s mood deteriorated throughout the meal.
When severa
l people rose from the table, he almost sighed with relief. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever been so grateful for a meal to be finished. Rising from his chair, he overheard Tony offering to show Cleopatra the garden. Before he realized what he was doing, he moved to stand at the fighter’s side.
“Don’t you have a mission tonight, Tony? If Cleopatra wants to see the garden, then I’m sure il mio signore Placido would be happy to serve as her escort,” he said quietly as he nodded toward the ancient Sicari Lord.
The fighter started to protest, and Dante stared him down. Tony sent him an odd look before he shrugged and turned back to Cleopatra. Capturing her hand, Tony kissed her fingers as he bid her good night. Dante watched in silence and fought the sudden urge to pound the other man into the ground. Placido rose slowly to his feet and winked at Cleopatra.
“Would you like to see the garden under the few stars the city lights allow, carissima?”
“In your company, il mio signore, I would find it most enjoyable.”
“Careful, you mustn’t get my hopes up, bella. I’m not a young man anymore.” Placido shook his finger at her. “In all honesty, I’m feeling a bit tired, so I’ll have Dante escort you for a stroll in the night air.”
Dante stiffened at Placido’s words and glared at his friend. What in Juno’s name was the man thinking? Being alone with Cleopatra had proven challenging enough over the last twenty-four hours, but in the dark? Christus, Placido was testing him again. But was it a test of his commitment to the Absconditus or was it something else his old friend was trying to teach him? Either way, it didn’t matter. Being alone with Cleopatra wasn’t a good idea at all.
“Perhaps Cleopatra might like to wait until another time—”
“Nonsense, my boy,” Placido scoffed. “The night air is warm enough for a pleasant stroll, and you can always talk business. Although I’ll think you mad if you do.”
“I’m perfectly capable of walking in the garden by myself,” Cleopatra said with a laugh. “There’s no need for Dante to join me.”
There was just a hint of bitterness in her voice, but there was a challenge there as well. She was essentially saying he was afraid to be alone with her. She was right, but he was damn well not going to admit it to her or anyone else.
“There may be no need, but il mio signore’s orders are never questioned,” Dante replied.
The sharp note in his voice was reserved for Placido, but he saw the way Cleopatra stiffened before she sent him a cold look. The old Sicari Lord shook his head with disapproval as he reached out to carry Cleopatra’s hand to his mouth.
“Forgive him, carissima. It’s past his bedtime, which explains why he’s so cranky.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Although she answered Placido with a laugh, the sarcastic note threading its way through her response didn’t escape him. Tension locked his jaw as he realized he’d managed to insult Cleopatra while letting Placido know he didn’t like being pushed into a corner. He glared at the old man before he gestured for Cleopatra to precede him out of the dining room.
He would have offered her an arm, but the thought of her being so close wasn’t something he was ready for. Not to mention he was certain she’d refuse. As they moved through the hallway to one of the doorways leading into the garden, he tried to comprehend what he was doing.
Why in Jupiter’s name hadn’t he just let Tony show her the garden ? He didn’t like the answer. He’d wanted to keep Tony from being alone with her. Fotte, he would have done the same thing even if her escort had been Placido. As they moved out into the night air, he was at a loss for what to say.
It didn’t help matters that she seemed quite content with the awkward silence stretching between them. At least it was awkward to him. She appeared to be completely indifferent to his company. It was a change from this afternoon when he’d come close to losing control of his sanity. With the grace of a well-trained fighter, she moved toward the small stone temple situated in one corner of the garden.
The secluded spot made his gut tighten as he followed her. He stood at the entrance to the gazebolike structure. Two stone benches faced each other, while a small altar was opposite the temple entrance. Unable to help himself, he watched with fascination as she crossed the marble floor to one of the benches.
With her back to him, she braced a hand against the arm of the bench then bent over to remove first one shoe and then another. The movement exposed the edges of a softly curved bottom, and his cock was hard in seconds. Still ignoring him, she sat down, her fingers wrapped around the edges of the bench’s seat as she looked up at the ocular opening in the temple’s ceiling. Moonlight danced across her face, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen anything more beautiful.
“I like Placido,” she said with a smile. “He must have been a real charmer in his prime.”
“In his prime? If he heard you say that, he’d be insulted,” Dante said with an overwhelming sense of relief. Praise Juno. She wasn’t going to mention this afternoon.
“Tony’s just as charming.” She looked at him with an expression that immediately made him uncomfortable. “Is that why you kept him from showing me the garden? Protecting my virtue like you did earlier today?”
There was a sharp edge to her voice that illustrated once again her humiliation at the way he’d rejected her. Christus. He should have known better. She had no intention of letting him off the hook about this afternoon. Not that he deserved to be let off so easily. Dante cleared his throat as he desperately tried to come up with an explanation for his behavior. He didn’t have one. Just the truth. Something a part of him wanted to ignore.
“He had a job to do. I simply reminded him of the fact.” Dante knew he was skirting the truth, but he wasn’t about to admit that something else had made him interfere. He’d moved deeper into the temple before he realized that might be a mistake.
“I see.” Her obvious skepticism made him grimace.
“He’s taking one of the older students out for his first execution.” He saw her go rigid for a moment before she nodded.
“The first time is always the hardest.”
Her barely audible statement made Dante frown. He’d done some checking on Cleopatra’s recent missions, and over the past three years there had been a pattern to her assignments. Almost every one of the criminals she’d executed had hurt or killed children.
She had been involved in just enough executions for other crimes to make it appear a coincidence, but something told him the events weren’t happenstance at all. Even Angotti had indirectly been responsible for the deaths of five children when he’d ordered Luigi Romano to burn one of his apartment buildings to the ground.
“I remember my first execution,” he said quietly. “It was a young man who’d murdered an entire family in their beds as part of a mob initiation.”
“You sound as if you regret carrying out his judgment.” There was a hard note in her voice that troubled him.
“No. His sentence was a just one. I simply wonder what he might have done with his life if he’d chosen a different path.” He met her gaze steadily until she averted her eyes. “And you?”
In the moonlight, she paled slightly, and her throat moved as she swallowed hard. She suddenly seemed fragile and vulnerable again—far removed from the confident, self-assured woman he believed her to be. The urge to pick her up and hold her as she fought with unseen demons made him stiffen.
“Yes, I remember,” she whispered. “He was a forty-three-year-old man who’d raped a three-year-old boy. I remember how hard it was to perform the Rogare Donavi with the bastardo. I didn’t want to ask his forgiveness. I wanted to carve him up into little pieces while he was still alive.”
Fury and rage pulsated off of her, and he remained silent. For some Sicari, the first execution of judgment was a burden that never fully disappeared. It was always there under the surface. The event was life changing, and the impact it had made on Cleopatra was eviden
t. But the loss of her baby and the end result could only have magnified her anger for those who harmed children.
Although there was no reason to believe she’d broken the Sicari Code when executing her targets, anyone holding a grudge against her could make trouble for her if she continued to manipulate her assignments. He frowned as he considered how to answer her.
“Your feelings are justifiable, Cleopatra. I don’t know many Sicari who wouldn’t have felt the same way you did.” His words seemed to have little effect, as she nodded sharply then looked up at the moon through the gazebo’s open ceiling.
“It’s a beautiful night. A bit warmer than usual for this time of year.” The abrupt change in topic said she’d closed herself off to further retrospection.
“You’re not cold, then?” His gaze swept over her bare shoulders.
“Not at all,” she said as she looked up at him with a wry amusement that hinted she’d either forgiven him or was on the verge of doing so. “I suppose you’d have gallantly offered me your jacket if I was.”
“Yes.”
“You’re a challenge, Dante Condellaire.” The vulnerable woman he’d seen seconds ago was gone, but the change was no less potent. She leaned back against the bench and folded her arms, which pushed her breasts up higher. His mouth went dry as he remembered touching and suckling her. He forced himself to meet her amused gaze.
“Am I?” He wanted to groan at the cryptic reply. It was almost a blatant invitation for her to probe deeper.
“Oh, most definitely,” she said in a voice that had suddenly become a soft, sultry caress. Her confidence was alarming. “And I do love a challenge.”
“Then I think you’re about to be disappointed, as I’m anything but.”
“Really?” She arched her eyebrow at him in the moonlight. “Then explain to me why you keep dancing around the elephant in the room?”