“Let me give you a hand with that.” Giovanni appeared out of thin air and picked up the painting carefully wrapped in plastic sheathing. “Are these for Mr. Marino?”

“Yes. I wanted him to see them in person before he made his decision.” I picked up the next biggest one and carried it into the drawing room. One by one, we stacked them against the walls near the window so the natural light hit the colors on the canvas.

I walked back outside to gather my things from the passenger seat when another car pulled up. With black windows and a black exterior, it resembled a tank more than a car. Bates got out of the back seat, dressed in a black suit with a hostile expression on his face.

He didn’t look at me once.

There was bad blood brewing. I could sense it in the air, smell it on my nose. It didn’t seem to have anything to do with me, but whatever was about to boil over was very near. I was tempted to get back into the car and drive away, but now the passage was blocked.

By two men dragging another in front of the fountain. They pushed him to his knees and stepped back.

What the hell was going on?

Bates stood off to the side and crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes reserved for the man sitting on his knees on the concrete.

Giovanni came back to my side. “Miss Siena, you should go inside.” He gently touched me by the elbow and escorted me up the steps. “This isn’t any of our business.”

“What’s going to happen?” It looked like an execution was about to take place.

Giovanni never answered me.

At that moment, Cato stepped out of the house—a pistol in his hand. He was dressed in dark jeans and a black t-shirt, and his muscled frame looked even thicker today—because he was clearly pissed. Blood lust was in his eyes, and his finger was already on the trigger.

Oh no.

He didn’t look at me as he passed and made his way down the steps.

Giovanni led me inside.

The man about to be executed started to beg for his life. “Cato, please—”

A gunshot went off.

The sound of a falling body came a second later.

My back was to the door so I didn’t see the execution happen, but I could picture it vividly in my mind.

Cato didn’t hesitate. He didn’t let the man beg. He just pulled the trigger and got it over with.

I controlled my breathing, but I felt the adrenaline sear my veins. Bones warned me this man was dangerous—and that warning wasn’t an exaggeration. Cato shot that man for whatever reason, and he didn’t hesitate. When he realized I was a fraud, what would he do to me?

“Clean this up,” Cato ordered. “And burn the body.”

I waited in the drawing room for fifteen minutes before Cato appeared.

Perfectly calm, like he hadn’t just executed someone, he stepped inside and glanced at the paintings I had unwrapped. His eyes took in each one for only a few seconds before he sat down and looked at me. “Yes.”

Just when my heart had slowed down, it sped up again. The palpitations had nothing to do with his good looks, but rather the memory of what happened on his doorstep not even twenty minutes ago. He knew I’d witnessed the entire thing because he’d walked past me with the gun in his hand. “Yes, what?”

“Yes on the paintings.” He was in the same clothes as before, but his gun was missing.

I’d been around guns my whole life and even stashed a few in my own home. They didn’t make me uncomfortable. But being in the presence of someone who could wield one so mercilessly certainly made me uncomfortable. “Great.” I’d been expecting a lengthier discussion, but after the execution, it seemed strange to discuss something as frivolous as artwork.

He must have detected the unease in my gaze. “Trust me, he deserved it.”

“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.”

His lips were dangerously close to mine, and I didn’t let them get any closer. “You teased me first.” He was the one who gave me the greatest kiss of my life before he threw me into bed with another woman. He’d moved his hand up my thigh under my dress and made me think I was the only one on his mind.

His eyes shifted back and forth slightly as they looked into mine. When he was this close, I could really smell his cologne, really feel his presence. There was a distinct warmth to him, like he was the sun in his own solar system. His fingers gradually dug into my skin harder as he kept his grip on me. “You’re an enigma.”

“Me?” I asked, our faces still close together. “I’m pretty easy to read—because I say what I want. You just don’t like it because what I want isn’t what you want.”

“And what do I want?” His hand left my elbow and snaked up my back. His large palm pressed hard against my body, his fingers burning through the thin fabric of my black dress. He moved farther up until he reached the back of my hair. He gripped the strands like reins, securing me in place so I wouldn’t go anywhere.

Now I wasn’t thinking about my plan anymore. I wasn’t thinking about anything anymore. “Me.”

He controlled my neck and moved my face until my lips were upturned to his. He had ideal access to my mouth, for a perfect kiss that would rival the last one we shared. His arms were comfortable around my body, and his hands actually felt like a safe haven.

It would be easy to succumb to my hormones, especially when this man would give me the best sex of my life, but I had to focus on the prize. A good lay wouldn’t be enough. He’d stop thinking about me the second we were finished. I had to keep him at bay, to make sure his interest didn’t burn out too quickly.

I finally found my footing and pulled away, stopping the moment before his lips could press against mine. I turned away and cleared my throat, breaking eye contact with him. “Since I’m working for you, this should stay professional.”

He didn’t reach for me again, but his eyes shone like two hostile beacons. “You want me.”

“No, I wanted you. That moment has come and gone.” I turned back to him, doing my best to seem sincere. “When I kissed you in that bar, I wanted to go home with you. I wanted an amazing night of sex to get me through a few weeks until I found my next fix. But you’re into some things I’m not into, so that was the end of the story. Now I work for you—and it should stay professional.”

“I just killed someone in my driveway. Not exactly professional.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, afraid that might be me in the future. “All the more reason we should forget about this.”

“I don’t think either one of us can forget something we can’t stop thinking about.”

It would be pointless to pretend I didn’t want him, so I stopped saying otherwise. Instead, I picked up the painting and stepped away from him so he couldn’t reach me again. “I need to get back to work. I have to return to Florence for my date tonight.”

He tensed on the spot, the muscles of his frame tightening slightly before thickening. There wasn’t a possibility that this man could get jealous, but there was definitely a flare of his nostrils. He was used to getting what he wanted, and the second he didn’t, he lost his mind. “You have a date?”

“Yes.” I grabbed my level and a couple of nails. “Have a good evening, Cato.”

He ignored everything I said. “You’re going to waste your time with some random guy instead of me?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure this guy doesn’t kill people. And I don’t think he’s going to throw me into a threeway either.” I headed to the door before Cato could say anything else. “You don’t know me very well, but I’m not the kind of girl who’s expecting anything out of a man. I’m at a point in my life when I’m just looking to get laid and focus on my career. I’m not in the market for anything complicated, but you made it complicated the second this turned into a sick power play. You have your rules, and that’s fine—but I also have mine.”