Trigger (Pericolo #3)

by Kirsty-Anne Still

  “Yeah,” Sal begins, mirth filters his words like a raging fire. “She does have a way with men.”

  I roll my eyes, unable to listen to them. Amelia is still in a state of devastation, still unable to breathe easy around the jagged edges of her hearts, and here is my grandfather and her father fawning over her kill tactics.

  “Speaking of which,” I interrupt. “How is Amelia doing?”

  “Better,” Salvatore says, offering a small grin. His prior expression falls, and he realizes that I’m in no way impressed. “She’s using the heartache she’s feeling to her advantage. I think having her heart broken was just what I was waiting for so that my daughter could reach her true potential.”

  “Of course, you would say that,” I remark, bristling at his comment. “You do realize she was undoubtedly happy before that heartache. For the first time since her mother’s death, she finally had reason to seek out a future.”

  “Zane Maverick was in no way the right man for her,” Salvatore argues back. “You can argue with me until you’re blue in the face, Dante, but a man like Maverick was not the right suitor for her. I’m just glad she is seeing that now.” Sal turns his attention to Ryleigh, and I see his expression change as his eyes narrow upon her. “Miss Ryleigh, if you wish to remain by Dante’s side, I recommend you grow the thickest of skins, the emptiest of hearts, and an undying quench for bloodlust. If you can’t do that, then I would run while you have the chance and never look back.” Salvatore seems to focus on Ryleigh, waiting for her guise to break; it’s what has me grinning like a fool. “It’s what all good Italian men need... a woman who will stand by their side.”

  “I think I’ve already proven just how willing I am to stand by Dante’s side, sir,” Ryleigh replies, offering a bright smile. “Just like Dante, you seem quick to assume you know me. I’m not scared of men like you.”

  “Do you know what I could do with a pretty little beauty like you?” Salvatore asks, taking a calculated step forward. “Well?”

  “I’m sure I could run off a list of things,” Ryleigh ponders, a smirk graces her face. “Mr. Abbiati, if you’re intentionally trying to terrify me, I’d stop. I’ve seen worse than you have to offer and I’m still here standing. Plus, Dante has the job of destroying me. I’m just here for the adrenaline rush.”

  Salvatore retreats almost immediately to my grandfather’s side.

  “Well, fuck me, Marcello. I think we’ve found the perfect match for your grandson after all.”

  “We’ll see about that one,” my grandfather remarks, gazing at Ryleigh with vicious intent. “She’s still got a lot to learn.”

  I wait for Ryleigh to speak, but all she does she is grin at Marcello. It seems to garner more of a reaction.

  “She knows she has a lot to learn and she’s all too willing,” I comment, settling the conversation down. “I’m going to take us to get some drinks. Happy birthday, Grandfather.”

  “Happy birthday, Marcello. It was lovely to meet you,” Ryleigh chimes in, a sweeter tone to her voice. “Maybe next time we’ll meet with a little more blood on our hands.” She goes in closer, preparing to kiss his cheek. As she leans in, her hand pulls on his arm, bringing him down so she can whisper in his ear. “Really seal our blossoming relationship.”

  As she pulls away, she bids farewell to Salvatore and comes back to my side, linking onto my arm as if to show she’s ready to leave. I take that as my chance to leave, but as we do, I can’t help but feel Ryleigh’s demeanor falter beside me.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, catching her contemplative look. If anything, I feel as if all adrenaline has escaped her. “You’ve gone quiet on me again.”

  "No, it's nothing," she murmurs to me as the tiniest of grins begins to crawl onto her lips. "I just had a vague feeling I knew your grandfather."

  "He's graced the front pages of the papers a few times," I remark, laughing wryly. "Think that could be it?"

  She shrugs. "Maybe." She looks up, fighting to keep her feelings hidden. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does... you can tell me anything.”

  “I’d rather not,” she replies, brandishing a smile. “I’ve already caused a rift. I’m not going to make it worse, so can we please get on with this evening?”

  I hate relenting, but I can see how desperate she is looking at asking that. So, being as much of a gentleman as I can muster, I take her hand and draw her into the middle of the dance floor.

  “Let’s not talk then,” I tell her. Placing a hand on her waist, I pull her flush against my body. Immediately, her lips part and her breathing shallows as that swirl of desire and lust lightens her eyes. “If you don’t want to talk, then we dance. That way I can get your blood up, I can show you off, and I can shove you onto the highest pedestal I so wish.”

  She doesn’t reply, just obliges. I loathe how we’ve become. Sure, she’s shown that tenacious attitude that had me addicted to the idea of what we could be, but she’s toned it down. She backs down easily and gives in willingly. I didn’t follow this girl, but I created her.

  I wanted to break her but never like this. This isn’t a beautiful corruption; this is heartbreak. Whichever way I look at it, I fucked up when I failed to realize that Ryleigh was falling a little too hard and a little too fast. I allowed her to fall into this shell of herself when I should’ve prevented it. I never should have allowed this to happen. For once, I wish I hadn’t let my cock lead the way. I mean, sex with Ryleigh was out of this world, but it’s forced us into a shitty predicament. If I had kept it in my pants and played the mind games as I’d wanted, I could have watched her kill men without a moment’s hesitation. I have forged a path for us – one full of dirty chemistry, tragic pasts, bloodied futures, and an undying need to feel the warmth of our bodies pressed against one another.

  I know I can only try to rectify the error of my war and fight for her to come back to what we were, what we both thrived as.

  As I pull her against my body, swaying to the music, I gaze down at her, and now my breathing shallows. The voice that whispers to me is unknown, dipped in disguise, and doused in addictive tones. It whispers the seed of madness that consumes me - fall in love.

  But as always, I decide to stop the thought from burrowing any fucking deeper.

  “This is lust, not love, cara. It’s what has you so confused. Lust mimics love to trick a naïve heart.” I keep the conviction strong in my voice, forcing her to understand what it is I want. We may have had this conversation before, but it didn’t do much to heed her rapid emotions. “I’ve never felt lust like this, and I know I never will again, which is why I brought you here. I want tonight to end with you screaming my name. I want to claim you as mine and make you realize I don’t do love.”

  “I know you don’t,” she replies, bitterness edges her words. “You don’t need to worry, Dante. I know why you want me here. I got the message loud and clear, but if you think you’re getting into my panties quite so soon, you can think again. My motives here aren’t sexual. That’s just an added bonus.” She narrows her gaze on me, the pupils shrinking as she calmly responds to me. “I think the other evening proved a lot to us. I allowed you to have my entire body, and while I loved the way you commanded me, I won’t give it to you so easily. You’ve had a taste of it, Dante. You can work for another round.”

  “I don’t have to do anything,” I respond dryly, ire heating me. “I could have any girl I wanted. I don’t have to wait for you to put out.”

  She takes a step back, breaking our connection.

  “Go on then,” she tells me, her voice strong. “Go and have any girl willing to give it up to you as easy as I did.” She doesn’t come back to me. “I’m going to the bar, so you go and find a girl as willing as I am to adhere to your sadistic requests.”

  I go to follow her, but Amelia’s older brother, Giovanni, blocks my way. He appeals most to my sadist tendencies, but there’s no redemption for him. He won’t ever make his wrongs right and, if I’m honest, I
don’t think he’ll ever attempt it.

  “Really met your match,” he says, pushing me back a little. “You know a girl like that could be extremely dangerous for a man like you.”

  “You wouldn’t have a fucking clue,” I remark, settling my gaze on him.

  “Wouldn’t I?” Gio asks, cocking a brow. “I live with a girl like that. Amelia is a fucking fireball when she likes, and from what I saw at The Den the other night, little Miss Turner is as well. I may well go and have a play.”

  “She’s mine,” I growl heatedly, matching up with him.

  “From what I heard, she’s no ones, but everyone’s,” Giovanni mentions, shrugging a little. “She’s one of the girls Jackson keeps protected, right?” He doesn’t leave me a chance to reply. “I bet that tight ass looks glorious wrapped around a pole.” He looks back at me, hitting my chest with the back of his hand as if he needs to gain my attention. “Hey, from the way she just walked away from you, I know you two aren’t involved. Might go and try my luck.”

  I know the look he fixes me with. He’s waiting for me to pounce, for me to become precious over a girl. Giovanni and I may have a love-hate relationship, but we always feel the same when it comes to the kill and to women.

  “Go ahead,” I say, allowing him his chance.

  “I heard from some of the guys she loves it rough,” he says, his eyes lighting up venomously. “That’s what they heard at the fight club, anyway. I love a woman who can handle a real man.”

  I snigger before I comment. “Guess we should find her one.”

  He gives me a death glare but turns on his heels nonetheless to stalk toward Ryleigh. Her back’s to us now as she orders a drink, but Giovanni cares very little for that and interrupts. She turns to face him, but before she has a chance to react, she notices me brooding over here in the background, and it causes her to smile like a fucking Cheshire cat and fawn over him. Fucker. She allows Giovanni to kiss her knuckles as he plays the fucking gentleman, but if only she knew that men like Giovanni Abbiati have no idea how to deal with a woman like Ryleigh.

  He leans closer, almost leering at her as he plays with stray curls of hair, pushing them over her shoulder, only to draw his hand back to graze her face. They seem to be hitting it off until Ryleigh’s face darkens. Things escalate quickly as Ryleigh seemingly says something Giovanni instantly dislikes. He pushes her violently against the bar, his hand grasping at her neck, but she doesn’t look fearful as men and women turn to watch the attack. No, she grins against his grip. I don’t know why, but I start to step closer – not to help but to listen.

  “You think you’re a big man,” she manages to say, albeit with difficulty. “You’re nothing to me but a guy who tried to come on to me.”

  I didn’t think it possible, but Ryleigh hitches the skirt of her dress up a little, raises her knee, and connects it with Giovanni’s groin. As he falls backward, releasing her, she steps in, grabbing his cock with an iron-like grip. The noise Giovanni makes is almost guttural as he weakens.

  “I knew what you were up to the moment you came up to me,” Ryleigh states, apparently tightening her grip as her jaw tightens. “Now, why don’t you be a man who wants a woman and not a man who tries it on just to impress his friends? I know Dante was watching. I saw you talking to him before.” She leans in this time, leering at him. “The next time you want to put your grubby hands on me like that without my permission, I’ll show you just what a little darling I am.”

  She releases him, allowing him to cup himself so he can recover.

  “Fucking men,” she mutters under her breath

  Within seconds, she’s across the room, storming out of the main room, and I follow, forgetting about Giovanni as he regains his composure and tries to save face by threatening the young man behind the bar.

  “Ryleigh,” I call out, not yet able to grasp onto her.

  “Oh, what?” she asks, turning around to face me. “What could you possibly want with me now? Do you have a new game you want to play with me?” she asks, succeeding in not showing her hurt. “I mean, you dress me up, introduce me to the man who raised you, lure me in, and then allow that bastard to come and flirt with me just because you told him he could fuck me tonight.”

  “I didn’t tell him that,” I explain, my tone tightening. “I told you whose you were. I wouldn’t go and throw you in the direction of another man. I am a man of my word, Ryleigh. Don’t ever fucking forget that!” I watch her expression become somber. Apparently, the conviction in my words is strong enough. “I’m a fucking greedy man, little wolf. You’ll do good to take note if you haven’t already. There is no way in this hell that I’d ever share you.” I take a step forward, uncaring of the eyes on us. “Giovanni is a conniving bastardo who doesn’t like it when he’s losing. He thought he had a right to you, I let him, and you did me fucking proud there, okay? We might not be perfect, but we’re something and that’s something more than a lot of those men in there have! You’re mine to claim. It’s why I gave you that fucking ace of hearts. Bit by bit, I’m taking all of you.”

  “I’m not yours for the taking,” she tells me, holding her own.

  “You were always mine for taking,” I tell her, echoing my threats. “You don’t seem to understand my moves and motives anymore, cara. I want you as a greedy man wants any woman. I want everything about you, and I won’t allow anyone to stop that, not even you.” I darken myself as my brow pulls tight together. “And if any man even dares to touch you, I’ll fucking break every bone in their body.”

  “Why the fuck are you angry now?” she asks, her tone completely exasperated.

  “I know you’re back dancing at the club, that’s why,” I tell her as we stand in the foyer. I notice how her eyes instantly drop. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because you cut my shifts,” she admits, without looking at me. When she finally looks up at me, I see the shame she wears so well. “Not all of us have endless money to support us. Some of us have to work...”

  “Are you implying I don’t have to work?”

  “I’m not, but it’s true, don’t you think? You wouldn’t know what a struggle was.” She rolls her eyes and it’s now I notice how glassy they appear. “What’s it matter? I’ve never been one to dwell, and I won’t start now.”

  “I’ll pay whatever you need, Ryleigh,” I offer, realizing that she’s slipping away from me. I’m fucked up over what it is I want and don’t want, but I know, without a seed of doubt, that I want her by my side, fighting strong. “Just tell me and I’ll pay it.”

  She laughs at my request, shaking her head to decline.

  “I’m no one’s charity case, and I’m not going to start. You’ve already spoiled me too much, and I won’t take any more. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not one to let someone pay my bills.”

  “I don’t want you to dance in that club,” I ground out, the memories starting to take over.

  “Why would you care?” she asks, her brow furrowing. “Giovanni just came on to me, maybe a little rougher than I like, but it goes to show I still have it in me. If I can take him on and succeed, I can survive being a dancer again.”

  “You don’t have to go back there.” My argument is sincere, but it’s only because I’m jealous that I’ve pushed her onto the stage for men to watch. “You don’t have to resort to that.”

  “I do,” she replies in earnest. I watch her swallow, steadying herself. “Please, whatever you do, don’t go back to watching me from the shadows again,” she begs, her eyes watering. “I couldn’t handle it. I have to go back there, but I can’t have you watching me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’ll see how living on rock bottom really looks,” she replies, the tears closer to falling than before. “I never wanted my life to be like this, but it is. I have to accept that we are worlds apart, Dante. What we started here was dangerous, and we both knew it. I took advantage of what you offered. I know I can’t just walk away, so I’ll wait for whatever comes nex
t, but I can’t be around you like this.”

  “Ryleigh,” I say, closing the gap enough to graze her face, but she reacts as if I’ve just burned her. “Ryleigh,” I reiterate, hurt.

  “I need to leave,” she admits, starting to pull away. “I’m sorry, Dante, I really am. I’ve made this awkward between us. We’re how we are because of me and I accept that.” She looks scared now, looking around like a deer trapped in the headlights of a car. “I can’t breathe when I’m around you. I’m sorry.”

  I can’t breathe when I’m around you – the words echo, telling the deepest truth of what we’ve become. I suffocated beautifully for her and always would, but she seems unable to survive the struggle.

  She runs off into the crowd, leaving me standing there. My eyes flicker around the room, wondering who saw us or who’s still looking. I notice a few judgmental eyes, but it’s the large, antique clock on the wall that stops me from caring.

  Just like Cinderella, at the stroke of midnight Ryleigh ran.

  Unlike Prince Charming, I don’t follow her.

  12RYLEIGH

  “You know I have a bottle of wine out back I’ve yet to open.”

  “Do you?” I reply absentmindedly, not even looking up. I continue to put books away on the shelf. “That’s great.”

  “I also fancy going out there to flick my bean while I FaceTime with my husband.”

  “Awesome,” I mutter, continuing with my work.

  She follows.

  “Was thinking I could ask Jackson to take me from behind while Dante takes the front,” she continues, incessant. “What do you think? I mean, every hole is a goal and all that...”

  I now allow every little word she just uttered to sink in and I stop working. I turn, looking at her, my lips parted in shock. Jodi just grins at me. She takes my hand and drags me away from the pile of books I created. We leave the shop floor and enter the back office. She all but throws me onto the lavish couch and goes over to her desk.