The Banker (Banker 1)

“What did he do?” I asked, not expecting him to actually answer me. None of it was my business.

“He’s a spy.”

“Oh…” Just as I was a spy. “How did you figure that out?”

He held my gaze for a long time, like he might not answer. “Because I know everything. Nothing goes on under my nose that I don’t know about. And if I don’t know about it, I will very soon. I run a dictatorship, not a democracy.”

Should I be terrified he was telling me all of this? “Do you want me to sign an NDA or something?”

A charming smile came across his face, like I’d just told a joke. “Why would I do that? If you told anyone, they would believe you. But no one would be dumb enough to repeat it or print it.”

I was a confident woman, but I’d never underestimated my targets—until now. My father’s life was in the balance, but now it didn’t seem like he had a prayer. Cato Marino was an opponent I had no chance against. None whatsoever.

“Don’t be afraid of me.”

My eyes moved back to his, seeing the sincerity in his gaze. “I was never afraid of you.”

“Your eyes say otherwise.”

“Well, they just watched an execution. Can’t exactly blame them.”

The corner of his mouth rose once more. “I only kill people who are stupid enough to cross me. Don’t cross me, and you’ll never have anything to be afraid of.”

Was it my paranoia, or did it seem like he was threatening me? What if he already suspected me and he was waiting for me to make a definitive move? Or perhaps I was reading between the lines too much. I kept up a blank façade even though that was nearly impossible to do. “You shouldn’t cross me either.”

His smile slowly faded, and he regarded me with his cold stare. His arms rested on his thighs, and his expansive shoulders looked broad and powerful. Even without a weapon, he was a terrifying man. His beauty was a bullet, and his body was the barrel. “I wouldn’t dare.” His hands came together, and he massaged his knuckles as he continued to watch me.

I could definitely feel the intensity between us, feel the potent lust and hostility swirl around us. I was both aroused by him and afraid of him, feeling two powerfully conflicting emotions at the exact same time.

“You should give me a chance. I think you’ll enjoy it.” He said it with such confidence, the kind of assertiveness another man couldn’t reproduce. He clearly viewed himself as untouchable, like there was nothing he couldn’t ask for.

He’d dropped the subject the last few times I saw him, but now he was circling again. I considered what Bones said and kept Cato at a distance. “I like men.”

“I’ll be there.” He leaned forward a bit more, bringing us closer together on the two couches. His thick arms stretched his sleeves, and his beautiful tanned skin looked as delicious as caramel candy. His cologne filled the room as he sat there, casting a spell that spread into every corner.

“I only like men.”

“Are you sure? Have you ever tried it? A lot of women I’ve bedded weren’t excited about it at first…but now they enjoy it.”

I couldn’t believe there was ever a moment when I felt guilty for tricking him. This guy was a murderous pig. He was so stubborn and conceited that he continued to pester me for what he wanted instead of just giving in. That was a whole new level of arrogance. “Alright. I’m in.”

His eyes shifted noticeably, the color draining from his face as the excitement rushed into his eyes.

“You. Me. And a man of my choosing.”

Instantly, the excitement disappeared. His jaw clenched slightly, as if I’d seriously offended him.

“What?” I mocked. “How will you know unless you try it?”

Cato kept up his hostile stare but said nothing in retaliation. It didn’t seem like words could match the rage in his eyes, so it was easier to remain quiet. He definitely got his point across that way.

I shut my folder and set it on the table. “I’ll hang these up for you. I’ll be back next week with a new set of paintings and pottery I’d like you to see.” I stepped away from the table and grabbed the first painting on the ground. I had my tools, so I could take care of the labor for him.

He came up behind me then gently placed his hand on my elbow.

My initial impulse was to fight him, to twist out of his grasp because no man could touch me whenever he felt like it. But instead, I let the touch linger, let his fingertips slowly dig into my soft skin. “Yes?”

He slowly pulled me toward him, making me turn on the spot so I would face him again. He looked down into my face with his bright eyes, his hard jaw chiseled from marble. His fingers still gripped my elbow, the same fingers that had pulled that trigger. “You’re teasing me.”