Black Hearted (The Margarelli Brothers 1)

My heart had stopped and then raced when I got the text. Seeing his name on my phone . . . seeing what he wanted . . . it had made me light up like a Christmas tree.

He wanted to meet, and like a fool, I’d said yes.

Today, I was going to meet Vincent. In person.

And a sad little part of me could not wait.

Chapter Nine

Vincent

I paced back and forth, glancing at my watch for what felt like the hundredth time. I was nervous and fucking pissed about it. I was the head of the biggest crime family in the country. I didn’t get nervous.

But Francesca . . . she was doing things to me. My head wasn’t on straight. Neither was my heart. I had barely slept the night before, thinking about her. Hell, I’d spent most waking moments since the Five Families meeting in a constant state of unbearable curiosity. Wondering about her. Worrying about her.

Not to mention the off the charts filthy sexual fantasies I was having.

I hadn’t had fantasies like that before, not ever. Not even as a teenager. I was having sweaty sex dreams of epic proportions. Marathons of sex. Fuckathons.

Hell, I felt like I was hitting puberty all over again. And hitting it hard.

The truth was, I wasn’t sure I liked it. I knew I didn’t like feeling out of control. And unless she was willing to join me in bed, and soon, I had a terrible feeling I wasn’t going to get any relief. Not that I couldn’t get a woman. I could. But the problem was, I didn’t want any other woman.

Only Francesca could scratch this particular itch.

I knew it in my gut. I knew it in my bones. I was also pretty sure she was not going to offer herself up to me like a present wrapped up nice and tied prettily with a bow.

Hell, when it came to Francesca, pretty didn’t even begin to cut it.

The woman was almost too gorgeous. She simply didn’t look real. She looked like a painting. A classic work of art. Something created by Leonardo Davinci to show the ultimate perfection of the human form. And she looked like a different version of perfection every time I saw her and in every single photo.

An innocent beauty. A devastatingly gorgeous vixen. A powerful woman whose physical perfection was merely a part of the whole insanely desirable package.

Everything about Francesca was epic. In my mind, she’d always been larger than life, even though she’d been wrapped in an adorably tiny package back in those days. The package had definitely grown up, though I could still see the little girl in the devastatingly beautiful woman.

I continued pacing and turned, sensing someone behind me. She was here. I stayed where I was as she walked forward, barely breathing, partially hidden by the trees.

We’d agreed on this spot by the river after a few messages back and forth. It was in the open, yes, but the trees along the walkway made it harder for someone to take a clear shot. And here, we were both taking an equal risk.

But also, it was a beautiful place. I hadn’t wanted to meet her in an ugly place. Nothing cold or dirty or seedy. No alleyway. No cheap hotel room.

Although, a luxury hotel room would do very fucking well for my purposes, I thought as my eyes drank in the sight of her. She was wearing white again, from her perfectly fitted jacket, slightly sheer silk button-down shirt and fitted white jeans, all the way to her black patent high heels. In fact, that was the only thing other than her hair, skin, lips, and flashing dark eyes that wasn’t completely devoid of color.

But those eyes . . . they weren’t just dazzling. They were awash with emotions. Something was on her mind. Someone, I thought with a hot flash of jealousy. She looked conflicted. Unsure. And then she saw me.

I knew the moment it happened. She looked furious that I’d seen her unguarded. Angry at being spied on. Then there was nothing. Not a single emotion. She could have been a statue.

But I knew.

I knew she felt things.

I knew she was flesh and blood.

And that gave me the advantage. She knew it. I knew it.

Now, the real battle would begin.

The only problem was, I didn’t care if I won. I just wanted her in my bed. So, even with the upper hand, I was well aware that I had already lost.

Chapter Ten

Francesca

I saw his eyes first.

Dark eyes that stared at me, piercing me, seeing through me. Vincent had arrived early, it seemed. I should have anticipated that. He’d lain in wait like a large predator. But I was a predator, too.

In fact, I was far more dangerous than he was.

Nothing in nature fought as hard as a mother protecting her young.