He decided right then and there that he’d fuck her while she wore his shirt at some point. Not yet, not while she still wanted to rip his throat out with her teeth, but soon.
Rose stopped just out of reach. Her makeup was no longer perfect, but it only added to the just-fucked look she had going on. She narrowed her pretty hazel eyes “I’m going to ask you this once, and I want an honest answer.”
“Sure,” he lied easily.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She said it so calmly, it took a moment for the words to penetrate. Rose didn’t give him a chance to respond, just continuing on in that painfully even tone that said she was seconds away from losing it. “You lied to me. You put me in a trunk. You made sure I disappeared at a specific time and place, and as a result, there’s a very real risk my family will be going to war. In what world would I ever agree to marry you?”
“In ours.”
She blinked. “There are lines, even in our world.”
“Are there?” He moved to the small cabinet bolted to the floor between the chairs they’d occupied earlier and pulled out a small bottle of whiskey. “Drink?”
“No.” The response was immediate and final. “The last thing I want right now is to share a drink with my abductor.” She really was magnificent like this. Nothing like the tame everyday girlfriend she’d played in his bed before. Oh, Rose had always been gorgeous, always been captivating, had always drawn his interest because he knew what lay beneath the mask, even if he hadn’t seen it for himself.
Now the masks were off. She wasn’t pretending any longer. Neither was he. Did she recognize him the same way he recognized her? They were alike in so many ways, were a perfect fucking match.
They were dangerous people capable of dangerous deeds.
They were predators.
Dante grabbed a glass and poured a healthy splash of whiskey into it. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, curious on how far he could push her. “How many of your aunts and uncles—and parents—had their relationships start with a little light kidnapping? More than a few.”
She dropped into the seat across from him hard enough to make her breasts bounce. He enjoyed the moment and enjoyed it even more when he finally raised his gaze to her face and found her glaring at him. She gave a delicate sneer. “This is not a little light kidnapping.”
“It’s the very definition of the word.” He smiled a little, just to see her tense in response. Dante motioned at her with his glass. “You’re unharmed and comfortable.”
“You. Put. Me. In. A. Trunk,” she gritted out.
“And you’re dodging the question, Rosa. That’s okay, I already know the answer.” He held up a finger. “James Halloran threw Carrigan O’Malley into a trunk after they fucked the first time, and now they’re married.” He held up a second. “Jude MacNamara knocked up your aunt Sloan before he ever admitted he was a hitman.”
“That’s not kidnapping,” she said mulishly.
“Close enough.” He shrugged and continued, “Your dearest Papa blackmailed your mother into essentially kidnapping herself the night they were married.”
Rose crossed her arms under her breasts and leaned back. “Stop quoting my family history at me.” She crossed one long leg over the other. “I know it better than anyone.”
“And yet we’re still arguing.” Not that he minded. At least she was talking to him. He’d half expected her to hide in the bedroom the moment she walked away the first time, perhaps to attempt to barricade herself in. But no, that’s something other Rose would have done when she’d worn her mask with him. The normal woman she’d played at being. This Rose was a Romanov, and she’d spend her entire time in his presence looking for the best angle to slip a blade between his ribs.
She was a revelation.
Rose started taking her hair out of its ridiculously complicated style. “Yes, we’re still arguing. You are not like my father or my uncles. You’re nowhere near the man they are.”
Dante shook his head slowly, watching bobby pin after bobby pin appear in a pile next to her. “You know better. I’m exactly the kind of man they are. We’re all cut from the same cloth—even you—but you have your panties in a twist because I hurt your pride, so you can’t admit it.”
She stared at him, her arms raised, half her dark hair hanging in wild waves around her face. “You’re out of your mind.”
He took a long drink of his whiskey. “It’s been said before.”
Rose leaned forward, flashing a healthy slice of her chest in the process. “You might have a stack of dossiers on me and my family, we might have done something resembling dating for several months, but you don’t know me.”