Shadow Warrior (Shadow Riders 4)

“Breathe, gattina. I’m not going to hurt you.”

It was almost automatic to follow his order. She was used to trusting him when she didn’t trust anyone else, and she didn’t even know how she got that way. The moment he told her to breathe, to relax, her body was already doing it. Tension eased from every muscle and air filled her lungs and exited. His smile sent familiar heat swirling through her bloodstream. As a reward, she thought it was an excellent one.

He slid her out of the car as if she were the most delicate piece of porcelain there was. She was out and blinking up at the clear blue sky before she realized he’d moved her. She’d been lost in his smile. In his eyes. The shadow on his jaw, all that delicious dark stubble she was tempted to touch.

Grace hadn’t thought it was possible to move from the car to the outside without jarring her shoulder, but somehow, Vittorio managed to do it. He cradled her against his chest, turning her so she could see the house. She knew her mouth dropped open and she wasn’t even embarrassed.

The exterior of the structure was blue-gray stone. A New England–style two-story house with a rounded turret that gave it the feeling of a castle—at least to her. It was a sprawling mansion complete with a five-car garage.

“You live here?” Her voice came out a squeak. “Alone?” Anyone would get lost in that house.

“I do. I like privacy and peace. This house has both.”

“It’s massive.”

“I have a staff.”

“A staff?” she echoed faintly, her fingers involuntarily curling around the nape of his neck. They were moving closer to the front entrance, where a very ornate door drew the eye. The car had driven up the circular drive in front of the house to allow Vittorio to get close to the door. She could see it looming up in front of them and she suddenly had the desire to leap out of his arms and make a run for it.

“What’s wrong?” He stopped moving instantly. “Grace? Talk to me.”

The rounded turret was to their left and he began walking that way, taking her into a private patio space that was large enough to have not one, but two double glass doors separated by several feet. In the center of that space set into the blue-gray stone was a very large shield carved out of wood. Before she could get a good look at the shield, he took her to one of the chairs set up for an intimate conversation. He sank down onto a wide glider facing the forest.

The sounds of birds and water reached her. The wind rustled the leaves on the trees and turned them into a silvery dance. She was acutely aware she was out of her depth here, but how did she say that to someone who was being so wonderful to her?

“Grace, talk to me. Something is upsetting you. If you don’t tell me what it is, I can’t fix it. Look at me, gattina.”

She both loved and detested that command. It didn’t matter that he spoke in a low, gentle tone, it was definitely a demand and one she couldn’t seem to resist. She also knew that once she looked into his eyes, where all that liquid blue was, she would be lost.

“If I do, you’re going to get your way.” She made a small attempt to save herself. She could fall hard for Vittorio Ferraro and that would shatter her heart. Probably her soul as well.

“Most likely, but is that so bad? What’s the worst that can happen? You look at me and tell me what is upsetting you and I fix it. That can’t possibly be so bad.”

“That’s what’s bad, Vittorio. I don’t belong here. I wouldn’t know what to do in a house like this. It’s intimidating.”

There was a small silence and her gaze jumped to his. He studied her face with eyes that seemed to see everything, see right into her, every fear she had. “Houses are just that, Grace. A place to live. This one appealed to me and I think, if you give it a chance, you’ll like it.”

Was she seeing hurt in his eyes? That was the last thing she wanted. “It isn’t a matter of liking it, Vittorio. It’s beautiful.” It wasn’t the house and they both knew it. She was used to working with wealthy clients and staff.

He studied her face and she had the urge to bury it against his shoulder, but she refused to be a coward.

“Am I intimidating to you?”

Was he? She nodded slowly.

“Because of who I am? My money? This house? What is it?”

That was a good question. A fair one. She wasn’t going to answer fast, he deserved better than that. It was difficult to think when her shoulder throbbed and burned, radiating pain throughout her body, but she was determined to think the questions through. Was she intimidated by his money? No. She was used to putting together fund-raisers, and men and women running in Vittorio’s circles were the clients her company targeted. She catered to them, designed food, drink and themes around their particular likes and dislikes.