“Marzio had a lot to say. I was nervous at first, talking to him, afraid he might be the one responsible for the death of my family. I didn’t want it to be the Carusos. My father was friends with them. Good friends. I knew it would have broken his heart if he found out Marzio had ordered a hit on him. On all of us.”
“You don’t believe it was the Carusos?” He wrapped her hair with the towel, soaking up the water even as he held her close to him. She wasn’t wearing a stitch and her skin gleamed a soft peach from the light shining through the bank of windows along the west side of the bedroom and the glass roof overhead. The roof had a seal that covered the glass most of the time, but when he wanted, he could open the double doors and let the moonlight into the room. He had them open now.
“I honestly don’t know, Mitya, but it didn’t feel as if Marzio was involved. He mostly was there to tell me you were a man to do business with but not a man to marry. He was worried about me.”
“I see. And did he have a solution for this?”
“He thought I should marry one of his sons. If not, I could seek asylum in his home.”
Mitya did his best to remain relaxed. His woman was lying in his arms, naked, drowsy, sexy as hell and totally relaxed. She hadn’t left with Marzio, not that she would have gotten out the door. He did need to know whether or not he had to make a visit to Houston. If he didn’t like what he heard, Marzio and his sons were going to have very short lives.
“You’re still here,” Mitya pointed out.
She let her lashes drift down again. “Better the devil you know and all that.” Her voice was teasing. Her lashes lifted again and her eyes blazed a vivid indigo, a deep purple that always took his breath.
“Mitya, I don’t want Alessandro Caruso. I’m not attracted to him. I seem to be rather attracted to you. So much so, every other man pales in comparison.”
His heart pounded. She was amazing. He knew she had reservations. He also knew she was a little afraid of him. Okay, being truthful, quite afraid of him, yet she had the courage to tell him how she felt.
“That’s a good thing, Ania. I don’t want to have to fight for you, but if that’s what it takes, I certainly would. You’re more than worth it.”
“I need to go to bed. I’m really, really exhausted.”
He had already pulled back the sheets and blankets, so it was easy enough to round the bed, put a knee into the middle of it and gently deposit her onto the mattress. She rolled over, curling like she did when she wanted to sleep. Knees to chest, hands tucked under her pillow. He used the towel to wring the rest of the water from her hair. Somewhere, he knew there was a hair dryer. If he didn’t use it, that much hair would get a good portion of their bed wet.
“Mitya?”
He had hurried to the bathroom to start rummaging through the drawers. He half turned. “Yeah, baby?”
“I really don’t want anyone else. It’s Jewel. Something’s really wrong there. How do we figure it out? I don’t know what to do.”
Unlike Mitya, Ania hadn’t known her leopard. Jewel hadn’t made an appearance until she was actually in the throes of the Han Vol Dan. Now, she was emerging, pushing her way to the surface, demanding to be allowed out. They hadn’t completely formed their bond of trust with each other. She was learning to talk to her leopard, but it took time. He, on the other hand, was very familiar with Dymka and his vicious, terrifying ways.
He found the appliance he wanted and brought it back to the bedroom to plug in. “I’ll talk to Dymka and find out the problem.” He turned on the dryer and sat on the edge of the bed, directing the heat through the mass of damp strands.
“Please do it now, Mitya. She affects my ability to think straight. When she’s very close to the surface, I can’t tell if she’s the one afraid or if I am.”
Another straight admittance. He really liked that trait in her. That please twisted at him. One part of him liked to hear her say it, the other part was a churning mass of upset stomach. He hadn’t heard the word often. That wasn’t exactly the truth. He had heard it when he was extracting information for his father, or deliberately going after someone his father said was a traitor or hadn’t paid the money owed. When he’d been his father’s enforcer, he’d heard that word too many times.