“Why are you telling me this?” he finally asks. “I’d think you’d be happy to have someone take me out.”
How can I give him an answer when I don’t understand myself?
I finally offer up the only lame thing I can come up with. “Maybe I’m not the villainess you think I am.”
Our eyes meet and for a second, my breath hitches at the intensity I see in his gaze. I have to push down the fight or flight urges when he propels to his feet and takes a few broad steps to close the distance between us.
He steps into my personal space, close enough that his scent surrounds me—scrambling my thoughts again.
I stare at his adam’s apple just a few inches away to avoid looking into his eyes. His finger is uncharacteristically gentle as he lifts my chin until I have no choice but to look into his caramel brown eyes.
“I never think of you as a villainess, Valentina.”
What do I say to that? None of my normal insults will help right now, and I’m unprepared to respond, giving him enough time to lean down and capture my lips in another kiss.
But this kiss is different—both better, and worse. Softer…impossibly even more intimate. His arms wrapping around me, pulling me into his embrace make me feel like I’m drowning, sinking deeper into whatever the hell this is that’s happening between us.
The intensity is too much. I yank out of the kiss and his arms, pushing against his chest hard enough that he finally releases me. I can feel my panic rising. I’d let him get too close. Not just physically, but emotionally. I need to get the hell out of this room and regroup.
I step back, frantically looking around the room until I find my bag where I’d dropped it earlier. I rush to it, picking it up and heading toward the exit as fast as my feet will take me.
“Valentina!” he calls out to me just before I escape.
Yanking open the door, I’m grateful for the fresh air wafting in, helping to erase some of the Atlas pheromones that had me under his trance. I’m ready to escape, but something holds me there, at the door, my back to him.
My heart pounding, it hits me that this could be the last time we see each other. He has a contract out on his life and me? I’m about to take a job that has the odds stacked against success. We both play in a dangerous playground.
I don’t turn around. I can’t look at him again or I might be tempted to stay.
“Watch your back, Atlas. I want you around long enough for me to prove to you I really am as good of a thief as you are.”
I rush out, turning toward the elevator. I should probably go back up to The Rooftop and try to find Omar and make my apologies in an attempt to salvage the job, but my hand reaches out and pushes the down button. I’m too emotional right now to think clearly, and this job was already going to be impossible enough. The last thing I need to do is take a meeting when I know I’m off my game.
The cold fall breeze that hits me as I spin out of the revolving door of The Whitney is a welcome wakeup call. I raise my arm to hail the first cab waiting in a line outside of the hotel. Only once I’m in the back seat, speeding away from the hotel can I finally close my eyes, lay my head back, and try to catch my breath. I want to push the last hour out of my memory, but the tingle of my ass against the seat along with the low-level throbbing of my pussy makes that an impossible mission, just like the casino job that will probably end me.
Chapter Ten
ATLAS
“Reputation is everything, and you have most certainly fucked up yours,” my father lectures as we sit and try to enjoy a lunch on The Rooftop.
“Are you done?” I ask as I take a bite of cob salad to show how little I care about his comment. Although deep down, his words stab at my gut and slice my soul in two. I hate his “I’m disappointed” talks.
His eyes narrow and he leans forward to speak in a low tone. “Do you realize how many people want our heads on a stake for that fire? We promised them that we’d make them whole, and you’re not doing that in the slightest. The very little work you are agreeing to do is being stolen right from underneath you. And then when you do work, you bother yourself with ridiculous tiaras and shit that has nothing to do with all the priceless work that was destroyed on your watch.” He inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring as he does. Leaning back, he adds, “I’m losing my patience in all this mess and seriously considering going back to Rome so I can focus on my legitimate businesses.”