Are you insane? She wants to kill you and you want to bed her?
Was that any surprise? It had been too long since he’d had any kind of excitement in his life, too long since he’d had anything like a challenge. The closest he’d come to interesting had been when his older brother Enzo had married a lovely English woman and Dante had been tasked with making sure Enzo’s son behaved himself. A shockingly difficult task, given the boy had already decided that Dante was less uncle than partner in crime.
Dante had had to spend at least a week afterwards in the company of various lovely ladies simply to recover.
Marriage and children were not the kind of excitement he was after. They were too restrictive and far too...domestic for his sophisticated tastes.
Though, given the state of his groin, if a lovely woman could get him hard simply by waving a gun at him maybe his tastes had grown a little too sophisticated even for him.
Then again, it didn’t look as though he was going to be able to escape any time soon, unless he charmed his way out. It wouldn’t be the first time that he’d used his considerable physical appeal to manipulate a situation and this was a situation that definitely required some degree of manipulation.
And besides. It might be fun.
‘Stupid, hmm? Maybe I am.’ He allowed himself to relax, looking up at her from underneath his lashes. ‘Or maybe I knew who you were all along and simply wanted to see what you wanted from me.’
Her lovely mouth curved in a faint, cool smile. ‘I see. In that case, care to enlighten me on why you’re here?’
Dante raised a brow. ‘Isn’t that your job? I’m still waiting for your villain monologue.’
‘Oh, no, you apparently know all about it already, so don’t let me stop you.’ She cocked her head, the light gleaming on her golden hair. ‘I’d like to hear it so, please, go on.’
Adrenaline flooded through him in a hot burst. This was getting more and more interesting by the second. And so was she, playing him at his own game. Little witch.
He allowed his gaze to roam over her, giving himself some time to collect his thoughts. If she wanted him to give her the run down on what he thought was going on so far, then he was happy to oblige her. Especially as he was starting to get some idea.
If she was from Monte Santa Maria—and that seemed certain—then the most obvious explanation for his current predicament was an issue with his family. The Cardinalis had once been rulers of Monte Santa Maria, at least until Dante’s father had mismanaged the country so badly that the government had removed him from his throne and exiled their entire family.
Luca Cardinali hadn’t earned them any friends during his troubled reign.
So, did that mean she was from a family whom Luca had wronged? She looked young—younger than he was—and he’d only been eleven when their family had had to leave, so she was likely to be someone’s daughter.
He didn’t remember much of his Monte Santa Marian history—he’d tried his best to forget about his country entirely—but he seemed to recall an aristocratic family who’d been famous for their beauty, and most especially their golden hair.
‘Well, if you insist,’ he said. ‘Your accent is familiar—from Monte Santa Maria, if I’m not much mistaken—and, given your general antipathy towards me, it’s likely you’re someone my father wronged at some point.’ He watched her lovely face intently. ‘But you’re young, so I don’t imagine Luca wronged you personally, but your family. And, given your accent again, I would say you’re from one of the aristocratic families. Probably...’ His brain finally settled on the name it had been looking for. ‘Montefiore.’
Something in her shattered sky eyes flared. Shock.
So. He’d been right. How satisfying.
‘Guess work,’ she said dismissively, her chin lifting, her hold on the gun tightening. ‘You know nothing.’
‘And you are very good at pretending.’ He smiled. ‘If you’re going to pull the trigger, darling, you’d better do it now. Or do you want the suspense to kill me before you do?’
‘You think this is a joke?’
‘With that gun in my face? Obviously not. But, if you imagine this is the first time I’ve woken up tied to a bed, you’d be wrong.’
‘This isn’t some sex game, Cardinali.’
‘Clearly. If it was, you’d be naked and so would I, and you’d be calling me Dante. Or screaming it, rather.’
A whisper of colour stained her pale cheekbones and he didn’t miss the way her gaze flicked down his body and then back up again, as if she couldn’t help herself.
Excellent. It would appear she wasn’t immune to him after all.
His satisfaction with the whole situation deepened, not to mention his excitement. This was indeed going to be a lot more fun than he’d initially envisaged.
Her jaw had tightened. ‘You seem very casual for a man who’s about to die.’
Apparently she didn’t like his attitude. Well, not many people did.
‘And if I was really about to die, I would be dead already. But, no, you put something in my drink, dealt with my bodyguards, somehow managed to transport me to...’ he took a brief glance around the room which looked like a standard five-star hotel room ‘...wherever this is. Cuffed me to the bed. Waited until I woke up, then started talking to me instead of pulling that trigger.’ He allowed his voice to deepen and become lazier, more sensual. ‘And, darling, considering that little look you gave me just now, it’s not killing that you want to do to me. It’s something else entirely.’ He let his smile become hot, the smile that had charmed women the world over and had never failed him yet. ‘In which case, be my guest. You’ve already got me all tied up. I’m completely at your mercy.’
* * *
Stella Montefiore had never thought killing Dante Cardinali would be easy. He was rich, important and more or less constantly surrounded by people, which made getting an opportunity to take him down very, very difficult.
But since she’d taken on the mission she’d spent at least six months planning how to get access to him and, now she had, her family was counting on her to go through with it. Especially her father.
It was a just revenge for his son’s death and a chance to reclaim the lost honour of the Montefiores. It was also her chance at redemption for her brother’s death, a death for which her parents still hadn’t forgiven her, and she did not want to make any mistakes. There was no room for error.
In fact, everything had gone completely to plan, and here he was, at her mercy, just as he’d said.
So why couldn’t she pull that trigger?
He was lying on the bed in the hotel room she’d managed to get him into with the help of the hotel staff, having told them he was drunk, and he was cuffed hand and foot. He shouldn’t be dangerous in the slightest.
And yet...
There was something about the way he took up space on the bed, all long and lean and muscular, the fabric of his expensive black trousers and plain white shirt pulling across his powerful chest and thighs. Not to mention the lazy way he looked at her from underneath his long, thick, black lashes, the glints of gold in his dark eyes like coins on the bottom of a lake-bed. Completely unfazed. As if he dealt with guns in his face every day and it didn’t bother him in the slightest.
And it didn’t help that he was so ridiculously beautiful in an intensely masculine way. All aristocratic cheekbones, a hard jawline, straight nose and the most perfectly carved mouth she’d ever seen. A fallen angel’s face with a warrior’s body, and the kind of fierce sexual magnetism that drew people to him, whatever their