I walked into the bathroom and found Bones standing at the sink with a towel wrapped around his waist. He was brushing his teeth.

With my toothbrush.

“That is so disgusting.”

He kept brushing his teeth, but he wore an arrogant expression in his eyes. He stared at me in the reflection, all the muscles of his body tightening and shifting as he moved around. The muscles in his forearms shifted like piano keys as he scrubbed his teeth. He finished what he was doing then spit in the sink. “I like disgusting.”

I slept like a rock last night. While I stayed with my parents, my sleep was just okay. And it wasn’t because I was up late at night with too much wine in my belly. I knew it was because I’d gotten used to sleeping on his warm and hard chest. I felt like a cat that loved to feel his owner’s heartbeat underneath his paws. I was scared of this man, but when I was with him, I knew nothing else could ever happen to me.

Knuckles could break into my apartment, but Bones would kill him instantly. He was like a guard dog, a fierce protector. But he could also become the attacker if the setting changed. So I felt safe with this man—but also afraid.

He rinsed off the toothbrush in the sink then dropped it in the cup. “Want me to make breakfast? Or do you want to go out?”

There were so many things wrong with that sentence. “First of all, there’s no food in this house. And two, you know how to cook?”

He pulled the towel from around his waist and set it on the hanger, displaying his naked self without any vanity. “I stocked your fridge yesterday. And yes, I know how to cook.”

I didn’t catch any of that because I was staring at his dick. Even when he was soft, he was big. I didn’t know they made men like that until I met him. Some were growers and some were showers…he was definitely a shower.

When I finally lifted my gaze to his face, I saw his cocky grin. “What?”

He walked out of the bathroom, his tight ass full of rock-hard muscle. “I’ll whip up something.”

I watched him go before I looked at my toothbrush in the cup. I deliberated whether I should take it or not. It was gross that he kept using it, but I needed to brush my teeth. Otherwise, it would drive me crazy all day. The fact that it wasn’t that disgusting to me was the most disturbing part.

So I did it.

I brushed my teeth, thinking about my night with him. When I pushed for my beliefs, he folded. He had the capability to listen, to have some kind of empathy if it was presented the right way.

It humanized him, made him less of a monster.

That made me feel like I had some control back, that if I pushed him hard enough, he would give me what I wanted. If something was really important to me, it was important to him. The fact that he admitted his father’s actions were wrong told me he wasn’t completely evil. He had a lot of darkness inside him, but at least there was a sliver of light.

I walked into the kitchen and saw him cooking eggs and bacon on the stove. “Let me get this straight. You go to the store and pick up all this stuff, but it doesn’t cross your mind to pick up a toothbrush?” I joined him at the counter, dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and jeans.

He flipped the bacon, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt. “Maybe I like sharing a toothbrush with you.”

“But I don’t like sharing it with you.”

“If you hate it so much, why do you keep using it?” He turned to me, arrogance in his eyes. “You can get a new one for less than a euro, but you insist on using mine…”

“Hold on, it’s not yours.”

“You’re right,” he said. “It’s ours.” He turned off the stove once the bacon and eggs were done. He scooped them onto plates and pulled the bread out of the toaster. I didn’t have a dining table because the apartment was too small, so we sat on the floor and ate at the coffee table.

I stopped arguing with him because it wasn’t a good utilization of my time. I’d rather focus on eating one of the only home-cooked meals I’d had in this apartment. The eggs were well done, and the bacon was crispy. “This is pretty good.”

“Pretty good?” he challenged.

“Alright…” I took another bite. “It’s really good.”

“That’s better.” His plate was twice as full as mine, and he had four pieces of toast. I’d never seen him eat anything less than a feast. Like a large horse that needed five thousand calories a day, he scarfed everything down. He ate so much but didn’t have an ounce of fat.

“When do you work out? I never see you do anything.”

“Because I consider fucking a workout.” He drank his coffee, his blue eyes on me.

“And when I’m not around?”

“I have a gym. I do a lot of weights, some cardio. What do you do?”

I laughed and took a big bite of my bacon. “You know I don’t do anything.”

“Your body says otherwise.”

“I walk around Milan a lot, so that must be where I burn the calories.”

“You still have a toned look to you.”

“I fight off psychopaths pretty often…”

He gave a sinister smile before he popped another piece into his mouth. “You think I’m a psychopath?”

“I know you’re a psychopath. You kill people for a living, and you want to destroy my family, who are the nicest people in the world. Yes, I think that’s the definition of psychopath.”

“I’ve met a lot of psychopaths,” he said. “Trust me, I’m not one of them.”

“Well, we established last night that I don’t trust you.”

“But you assume I’ll honor my promises.”

He had me there.

“You trust my honesty,” he said. “So now who’s the psychopath?”

I turned my gaze down to my food and kept eating, feeling the tension rise between us. He was a wild animal that could be easily provoked, but I never learned my lesson and stopped initiating his temper. I was too proud and stubborn to be the quiet prisoner who kept their head down until the perfect opportunity presented itself. I was outspoken, and sometimes, a little stupid. “I told my father I’m dropping out of university.”

It was the first time Bones took a break from eating his meal. “And what did he say?”

“He said he would support whatever decision I made.”

Bones grabbed his mug. “I’m glad you listened to me.”

“I didn’t listen to you,” I argued. “I’ve just considered what you said.”

“Same thing. And believe it or not, I’m a very smart man.”

I did believe that. I knew it the second we met.

“What now?”

“I guess I’ll start painting full time and try to sell my work. My father said I could put up my artwork at the winery, so when customers come through, they’ll see them. Maybe even buy them.”

“They’ll definitely buy them. My advice as a business man, start high.”

“In what way?”

“Pricing. A high price shows your worth. Don’t start low and then climb as you earn critical acclaim. Show people you’re worth the cost. I’m one of the most expensive hitmen on the market—because I’m the best.”

“And you take pride in that?” I asked coldly. “I was walking home, and I witnessed you murder that guy. It’s not like you were careful or covered your tracks.”

“I don’t have to cover my tracks. The police are scared shitless of me. That’s what my clients are paying for. When the police investigate the crime scene or they put a detective on the murder, all I have to do is make one phone call and the investigation is dropped.” He snapped his fingers. “Like that.”

That kind of power just made me despise him more. “No one is above the law.”

“Then your entire family would be in prison right now, except your mother. And your father would be in prison for keeping your mother prisoner for months—”

“Don’t talk about my family.” I didn’t raise my voice but mimicked the same kind of authority he showed. I only had a fork in my hand, but I could do some damage with it. My gun was still in my bag, and I hadn’t had the opportunity to put it to use.

Bones turned quiet, holding my gaze with his unflinching look. “Then I want to talk about my family. While you were drinking wine and opening presents by the tree, I got a phone call.”

I didn’t know where this was going, but I hung on every word.

“One of my boys thinks he’s identified the man who killed my mother. The guy who hired her for the night, and when he was finished, got off on killing her. Murdering prostitutes is a fetish of his. He’s done it to twenty other girls, and he’s never been caught because the police don’t give a shit about whores—even though they’re people. You don’t like that I’m above the law? Anyone with money and a little bit of power is above the law. Anyone who doesn’t fit into that category is insignificant and isn’t even included in the law. That’s just how it is, baby.”

Sadness sank into my stomach when I pictured how that phone call went. I was having a wonderful time with my family, making memories and imagining what it would be like once Conway’s son or daughter was there for our next Christmas. My mother was beaming like a glowing light, and my entire family was happy to be alive in that moment. But Bones was at home, thinking about who fucked his mother and then killed her. An overwhelming sense of remorse came over me, the pain so deep that it ached in my bones. I struggled to accept what happened to my mother when she was young, but she escaped and lived a happy life. She found a way out. She was still alive. But Bones lost his mother…and now he was haunted by the way she met her end. “I’m so sorry…”

Bones stared at me, his blue eyes focused with laser precision. He watched me like he was reading me, and his emotions were difficult to decipher. He was still like a statue, like a gargoyle that haunted the night. “She was killed on Christmas Eve. She went to pick up a client so she could afford our rent and to get me a toy for Christmas. If she hadn’t done that, she might still be alive. I wish I could have told her I didn’t need a damn toy for the holiday. I wish I wasn’t so young. I wish I was the man I am now, the man who could take care of her so she wouldn’t have to resort to that dangerous lifestyle.” He didn’t blink as he stared me down, not showing the sadness that I felt in my heart. All he felt was rage. “When I confirm it was really him, I’ll murder him with my bare hands—and leave his body in a dumpster.”

I had no doubt that Bones would do whatever was necessary to avenge his mother, and I wouldn’t persuade him not to. If it were my mother, I would do the exact same thing. I wouldn’t stop until that man got the exact same fate.

Bones was keeping me as his prisoner and threatening my family on a daily basis, but I felt so much empathy for this man. I felt sorry for him, sorry that he experienced so much pain. He was born the son of an evil man he never knew. He didn’t have the same opportunities I had. He wasn’t loved by his parents the way I was. He didn’t have a family at all. He was completely alone…even on Christmas.

No one should be alone on Christmas.

I moved around the table on my knees and got closer to him.

He watched me, his eyes still fierce and hostile. “I don’t want your pity. I just want to give you a reality check.”

I straddled his hips and moved into his lap, my arms circling his neck and my face moving to the crook between his shoulder and neck. “I’m not giving you my pity. I’m not trying to comfort you. I’m trying to comfort myself…because my heart hurts.”

Bones didn’t hug me back. He kept his arms by his sides, refusing to be affectionate even though his hands were usually on me all the time. His chest rose and fell at a steady pace, constricting his emotion and keeping everything bottled inside. He pretended none of this mattered, but if it really didn’t matter, he wouldn’t have mentioned it in the first place. “I thought you hated me.”

It was one of the only times when I sat on his lap and I didn’t feel his dick get hard. His mind wasn’t on sex, which was rare. This conversation obviously disturbed him, emotionally affected him. “I do. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care, that I don’t understand. And it doesn’t mean I’m not sorry for what happened to you.”

After several heartbeats, his arms moved around my waist, and he held me close to him, his arms warm and heavy. He turned his cheek against mine and held me like that, saying nothing.

“Where are we going?”

Bones drove his truck through the streets of Milan and stopped at a traffic light. “You’ll see.”

“Why did I need to pack a bag?”

He kept his eyes straight ahead. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“Are you surprised?”

The light changed, and Bones drove once more. He headed through the congested streets and past the ancient cathedrals. Despite the cold, it was a beautiful day. The sun was bright, and the clouds were gone. Snow was piled up in the gutters, turning into slush. “I’m surprised you keep asking questions when you never get answers.”

“I’d like to know where I’m going and how long I’ll be gone.”

“You’ll always be gone,” he countered. “You’ve been gone since the moment I took you.”

I faced forward, abandoning my interrogation. My gun was left in my apartment, hidden in my bedroom until I found the right time to use it. There wasn’t any doubt in my mind I could pull the trigger. I may pity him, but it wouldn’t change the divide between us.

We were enemies.

We drove for fifteen minutes before Bones pulled into an empty parking lot in front of a building. The property was protected by a thick black gate that automatically opened when his car got close to it.

He pulled into a spot and killed the engine.

What was this place? Did he change his mind about killing me? Was this where he was going to do it? If that were the case, why would he ask me to pack a bag? “Where are we?”

He grabbed my bag out of the backseat and pulled it over his shoulder. “I told you I have a place in Milan. This is it.”

I followed him into the deserted lobby and into the elevator. “You’re the only tenant?”

“Yes.”

Conway had the same kind of set up, but I didn’t say that out loud just in case Bones didn’t know that. We rode the elevator to the top.

“The top floor is my personal quarters. The other floors are for my…hobbies.”

I didn’t ask what those hobbies were because I knew it involved violence and murder.

The doors opened to a large living room, designed in a classic Tuscan style. It still had the simplicity his place in Lake Garda had. It was open, comfortable, and beautiful. The living room alone was enormous. He could entertain fifty people, easily. I admired the rug on the floor and the dark furniture. Without knowing the occupant, I would know that a man lived here. “You don’t like my apartment anymore?”

“Your apartment is fine. I just needed more room.” He pulled the bag off his shoulder and set it on the couch.

Now I was starting to panic. What did he need more room for? What if he had a room already set up with the plastic and the camera? What if he was going to return me to my parents in pieces?

Why didn’t I bring that gun?

He must have brought me here so no one would hear my screams.

Fuck.

I quickly looked around for a weapon. There were a few vases and other decorations, but unless I hit his skull just right, it wouldn’t do enough damage. I couldn’t keep my breathing in check, and my heart was beating out of rhythm.

“Come.” He started to head to the hallway. “I’ll show you.”

I didn’t follow, knowing exactly what was waiting for me. Our touching moment yesterday meant nothing to him. I sympathized with his suffering despite what he did to me, and now he wanted to kill me anyway. Maybe my pity was the reason he flipped a switch. Maybe he was starting to pity me in return and he was losing his resolve, so he wanted to kill me now while he could still do it.

When I wasn’t behind him, he turned around and looked at me. “I said come.”

The elevator was behind me, but the doors were closed. I could sprint and hit the button, but the doors wouldn’t open quick enough. Even if I could get to my phone, I probably wouldn’t be able to call my father fast enough. And he wouldn’t get here for hours anyway.

But I wasn’t going to give up.

His eyes narrowed. “Baby, what?”

“Don’t fucking baby me.” I finally made my move and snatched the large decorative platter sitting on the coffee table. I gripped it with both hands and stepped back, ready to smash it against his skull once he came close enough.

His eyes widened noticeably, like he was genuinely surprised by what was happening.

“If you think I’m stupid enough to just walk in there, you’re an idiot. You wanna kill me? I’m not going down without a fight. So bring it, asshole.”

Instead of chasing me across the room, he folded his arms across his chest and just stared at me.

Adrenaline was pumping in my veins, and I was ready for any move he made. I had to fight to the death because I had nothing to lose. If I didn’t overpower him, I’d be dead anyway.

“I’m not going to kill you.”

“Bullshit. Why else would you bring me here?”

“To show you something.”

“A video camera and a knife?” I hissed. “Already seen them.”

He stepped toward me and raised his hand. “Put the plate down.”

“Fuck you.” I stepped back as he came closer.

“That was my mother’s.”

I almost slammed it onto the ground and shattered it just to be spiteful. He wanted to take away my entire family, so why should I give a damn about a plate?

“I didn’t bring you here to kill you. I promise.”

He said he kept his promises, but he would probably say anything to keep me calm right now. He slowly came toward me, one hand extended. “I have no intention of killing you, baby. But if you break that plate, I might. That’s the one thing I have of hers. Make a single scratch, and I’ll slit your throat.”

I slowly lowered the dish then looked down to stare at it. It was bright blue and decorated with deep sea fish. It was the one thing that didn’t match the rest of his place because the color was so vibrant compared to everything else.

When my gaze was lowered, he made his move. He crossed the room and took the plate out of my hand. He could have snapped my neck or punched me in the face, but he walked back to the table and returned the plate where it belonged. “Now, if you’re done with your little meltdown, can we move on?”

I stayed rooted to the spot, still afraid of the place he wanted to show me.

“Vanessa, if I were going to kill you, I would tell you. Believe me, I want to see you cry and scream. I get off on that shit. But that’s not on the itinerary today.” He came back to me, his large arms stiff by his sides as he approached me. He stopped in front of me then looked down, annoyance written all over his face.

“Promise me?” I whispered. Listening to him make a promise was the only way I could really trust him. He said he would always be honest with me, so listening to a promise shouldn’t make a difference. And if he was a liar, he wouldn’t have a problem making an endless line of promises because he would break every single one of them.

But it made me feel better.

His hands slid up to my face and cupped both of my cheeks. “I promise.”

He was the man I was afraid of, but once the danger passed, he somehow became my savior. I shouldn’t be grateful for his gentleness, not when he threatened me every day. I shouldn’t appreciate his good days when there were so many bad ones. He dropped my expectations so low that every good thing he did was received as a gift. It was a form of psychological warfare.

He kissed me softly on the mouth, his fingers reaching into my hair. He bent his neck down to kiss me and yanked me onto my tiptoes so our mouths could reach each other easier. He pulled me into him and let me balance against his chest, his warm touch surrounding me.

I felt better once I had that kiss, but I shouldn’t love his affection so much.

He took his kiss away then walked toward the hallway.

This time, I followed him.

We walked across the hardwood floor and then turned to the door on the left. He grabbed the doorknob but didn’t turn it right away. Instead, he looked at me. “I had someone help me with this. If it’s not what you want, let me know. I can change it.”

My eyes narrowed, having no idea what he was about to show me. Was it my own bedroom? Why would I care about having my own space, especially when my apartment was just fifteen minutes away?

He opened the door and stepped inside first. He moved to the left, so I could walk in past him.

I stepped inside and stared at the floor-to-ceiling window that had a perfect view of the entire city. So much natural sunlight flooded inside, along with the open skylight at the top. It was a painter’s dream.

There were three easels next to the window, all set up with different paint colors, brushes, and other tools. A large table was in the center of the room, storing all the extra supplies I needed.

Two large couches were centered around a coffee table in the corner, a place where I could sit when I wasn’t painting.

I stared at everything, completely dumbfounded by the sight in front of me.

He did all this for me?

Bones studied my face, watching every little reaction I gave. “I thought you could do your artwork in here. You said that natural light was the most important component to any picture. In here, you have plenty of it, especially since the sun rises in front of the window. Now that you want to do this full time, you need an office. You’ll have plenty of space, and when I’m not around, you can come here and use it whenever you want.”

I was still speechless, staring at this kind gift.

From Bones.

Was this really happening?

“I…I don’t know what to say.” Bones was harsh, cruel, and lethal. He still vowed that he wanted to kill me and get the revenge he deserved. He wasn’t kind to me most of the time, and he treated me like a slave rather than a person. But then he did something incredibly thoughtful and generous. It didn’t make any sense. “I really don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything at all.” He moved his hands to his pockets and admired the view outside the window.

I stared at his back, wondering if there was a heart inside that muscled mass after all. Maybe there was more light inside his soul than he let on. Maybe he wasn’t just a stone-cold killer but actually a conflicted man suffering from old wounds.

“I have to be honest and tell you this isn’t entirely selfless.” He turned around again, his black hoodie stretching over the muscles of his shoulders. Even when he stood in a room with vaulted ceilings, he still looked incredibly tall. His muscled mass made him appear large, no matter what he stood next to.

“It’s not?” I whispered.

“No.” He walked back toward me, his blue eyes returning to their cold look. “I want you to make something for me.”

“You want me to paint for you?” I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my tone. He seemed impressed by my work, but he wasn’t an art collector. The stuff he had in his home had been selected by Richard.

“Yes.”

“What do you want me to paint?” Maybe he wanted me to paint a portrait of his mother. He’d seen me draw lifelike versions of my family. It wasn’t as good as a photograph, but pretty close.

He came closer to me, standing so close I could feel his breath fall across my lips. His hands went to my arms, his fingertips gliding across my smooth skin. He moved his forehead to mine, his eyes on my lips. “You.”