Twisted Desire (12 page)

Ever.

Yeah, right.

Keep telling yourself that, buddy
, the voice inside my head mocked me.

I looked down at her, and her big hazel eyes were staring straight at me, filled with passion and what looked like some confusion.
 

Shit.

“I’m sorry,”
I told her, afraid I’d insulted her in some way.

She twisted to the side, making me sit up. When her hand touched my back, it felt like bolts of lightning shot through me. I was in deeper than I realized.

“Please don’t apologize for that,”
she whispered. “Please, not for that.”

Confused by her words, I tilted my head to the side and looked at her. “What do you mean? You’re not mad at me?”

She cast her eyes downward and started to twist a strand of her hair around her finger. “No, I’m not mad,”
she responded. “I’m not mad at all. I’ve been wanting that to happen for a while now.”

Oh shit.

Rubbing a hand on the back of my neck, I sighed. “It can’t happen again, querida,”
I told her softly. “It shouldn’t have happened, but I don’t regret it either. You are stunningly beautiful, and I’d be a fool not to be attracted to you. But,”
I paused. “You’re a huge responsibility for me. Roman would literally kill me if anything happened to you.”

She stopped twisting her hair around her finger, dropping her hands into her lap. “What do you mean? Are you saying he’d kill you for kissing me? Nothing bad happened to me when you kissed me, Tag.”

I chuckled at that. “No, I know. What I mean is that it’s dangerous enough that you’re here, on this yacht, against your will. Getting involved with me, kissing me, would make it worse. I’ve been assigned to watch over you, to protect you, and I can’t afford to have my judgment, my instincts, clouded. I need to be focused at all times, Penny.”

She suddenly stood up and walked over to the railing. She turned to face me and leaned back on it. A gentle breeze had recently picked up, making her hair move softly around her face. It was an image that would forever be seared on my brain.

“You know,”
she started. “It’s so easy for me to forget you’re one of them.”
 

I literally felt sick when I realized what she meant, that I was one of the bad guys.
 

“You don’t act like them, you don’t talk like them. It’s like you really aren’t one of them. It’s very strange.”

She was getting too close for my comfort. I had to get her mind off the subject. Standing, I walked over to stand in front of her, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You know, Ms. Santoro, you’d be wise to remember I am one of them. Another reason not to get mixed up with me. I’m bad news.”

She shook her head. “That’s the thing, Tag,”
she continued. “You’re not. Every bone in my body is screaming to me that you’re not. Something doesn’t add up.”
Her eyes scrunched up a bit in thought, and she started to chew on her bottom lip. It was all I could do to not lower my head and take that bottom lip into my mouth and suck on it.

Instead, I combed my fingers through her hair and ran my tongue across my lips. “No, Penny. Everything is as it seems. What you see is what you get.”

She looked up at me then, and I felt it to my knees. She literally was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, and I had no idea how I was going to stay away from her. Being strong usually wasn’t difficult for me, but it seemed that was about to change.

She leaned her head into my hand and spoke. “You’re not an evil man, Tag. You can’t ever convince me otherwise. You may have chosen the wrong path to take, but you’re not evil.”

“I’m sure as hell no Rico, but again, I’m no angel either. I’ve done things in the past that would have you running for the hills, querida, if you knew. I’m watching over you for the leader of one of the biggest drug cartels in the country. I work for him. End of story.”

I turned around and sat back down on my lounge chair, doing my best to show her the conversation was over. In actuality, I was doing my best to calm my heart rate down, to get some space between us. I couldn’t think clearly when she was next to me, her sweet breath on my face, the taste of her lips on my tongue.
 

I was clearly falling for Penelope Santoro, and it might literally be the death of me.

Chapter 12

He stepped out of the bathroom in only a white fluffy towel tied around his waist. His pecs rippled as he held up two different shirts, trying to decide which one to wear. The veins in his sculpted arms were standing out, practically making me drool.
 

I had it bad.

A week had gone by since he’d told me he was bad news out on the deck, and true to his word, he hadn’t touched me since.

Well, he had touched me, but not in the way I wanted.
 

He held my hand when we walked out of the cabin, or he’d touch the small of my back. He always wanted to protect me, which I appreciated, but it was also getting on my nerves. Maybe I’d imagined his attraction to me.

I sighed.

He looked up at me, a question in his eye. “Everything okay?”

I nodded, focusing on the sketch I was working on. Ever since the attack, my fashion drawings had gotten more intense, more daring. The ideas wouldn’t stop hitting me but had taken a whole new turn. While I hated what Rico had done to me, I felt this was helping me heal in some way. Being able to draw was like a type of therapy for me, which I badly needed. I had told Tag I didn’t want to speak about it ever again, and I meant it. I didn’t want him to keep blaming himself, and if he knew how much it still plagued me, kept me up for most of the nights, he’d never forgive himself.
 

I refused to let that happen.

I put the pencil eraser in my mouth and rested my cheek on my hand, wincing at the stab of pain from a bruise that was still healing.
 

“Damn Rico.”

I whipped my head to look at Tag, wondering why he’d said that. He was dressed now in a light blue T-shirt and frayed jeans. He looked intoxicating.

“I saw you flinch when you accidentally touched the bruise. He’s lucky he’s not still on the boat…”

I didn’t say anything, just went back to my sketching. I didn’t want to hear what he was going to say. The fact was that Rico wasn’t on the boat anymore, thanks to him. A part of me still wished Tag would have killed him, but then the guilt would rip through me, so I’d never ever say it out loud. Rico was a horrible, horrible man, but wishing someone dead was something I’d never felt before, and it scared me.

There was a knock at the door, making me jump. Tag’s head jerked up, then he looked at me in confusion. “Stay right there,”
he warned me as he picked up his gun and put it in his waistband.

I watched as he went to the door and asked who it was.

“It’s Roman. Let me in.”

Roman Vitale was at my room? He’d never knocked on my door before; what could he want? I did my best to look calm, not freaked out like I was feeling inside.
 

Tag opened the door and stepped aside to let Roman pass. Roman was dressed impeccably in a dark suit and grey and black striped tie. His white hair was styled like I’d always seen it, perfect with the comb marks showing. His little mustache was shaped perfectly above his thin lip.

The man reeked of money—dirty, bloody money.

“What’s going on, Roman?”
Tag asked, shutting the door.

Roman ignored him, his eyes staring straight at me. I immediately felt little chills down my spine, making me shiver. I had no interest in having any of his attention and wanted it off of me, now.

Still looking at me and making me extremely uncomfortable, Roman finally replied to Tag’s question. “I want you two to join me for dinner tonight in my dining room.”

My eyes bulged and looked straight at Tag. What the hell? No. No way.

Tag made sure not to look at me, only looking at Roman when he responded. “What time?”

Roman finally turned to look at him, making me exhale in relief. “Six-thirty sharp, formal dress. I feel it’s long overdue that I have Ms. Santoro for a meal, especially after what happened a few weeks ago.”

I felt like throwing up when he mentioned that. Even though I’d never voiced it with Tag, the fact that Roman was more concerned for me than anything else when he came into Rico’s room made me nervous. At the time, I didn’t think twice, but after things had started to calm down, I remembered it and it made me very uncomfortable.

You’d think he’d be more concerned with the fact that his right-hand man had just been beaten to a pulp, not that the pawn in his game had been attacked.

“We accept and look forward to it,”
Tag spoke up, drawing my attention back to the conversation.
 

Roman smiled at me when Tag answered, raising one of his white eyebrows. “I’m looking forward to it too.”
He turned around and walked out the door, not addressing Tag again.

When Tag had shut the door behind him, I stood up and started pacing. “We look forward to it? Are you crazy?”
I asked, throwing my hands in the air. “The last thing I want to do is go have dinner with him, Tag.”

Tag watched me walk back and forth, his arms crossed over his chest. “What did you expect me to say? Go to hell, Roman?”

I stopped mid-step and turned to look at him. “Yes, that would have been much better.”

He chuckled, then sobered when I didn’t laugh with him.
 

“You’re serious,”
he stated.

“Hell, yes, I’m serious. I hate him, absolutely hate him. Did you see the way he looked at me? Did you? And now you expect me to dress up all nice and pretty and go have dinner with him at his dining room table?”

His lips curled up into a tiny smile, apparently amused at my choice of words. “Yep, that’s exactly what I expect you to do, and no, I didn’t see the way he was looking at you since his back was turned to me, but I can only imagine, querida. You are always safe with me.”

I softened a bit hearing that but still held my ground. “What if I refuse to go?”

His smile stayed put as he took a step toward me. “You won’t.”

His cockiness was on my nerves. “Watch me.”

He took another step. “Oh, I will, gladly.”

His words sent pleasurable warmth right through me. “You know what I meant,”
I replied, not letting on I enjoyed what he said.

He took another step, then another, standing right in front of me. “I did, and I also meant what I said. I always enjoy watching you, Penny Santoro.”

He was so confusing. Didn’t he tell me a week ago nothing could happen with us, that he was bad news and all that jazz? Why was he flirting with me?

“You realize that can come off as creepy, right?”
I had to say something to deflect his mood. I had no idea what to do with his flirting. It sent me way off center.

His smile grew at my attempt to distract him. “Yeah, but oh well. I think I’ve proven to you I’m no creep. You have nothing to worry about.”
He leaned his hand against the wall above my head, his face so close I could smell the slight hint of mint on his breath.
 

I looked down at the floor, took a strand of hair around my finger, and started twisting it around. “Yes, I know you’re not a creep, but you could come off that way if you’re not careful,”
I whispered, knowing I sounded ridiculous.

“Am I making you nervous?”

There was a slightly amused tone in his question, which told me he was completely enjoying this interaction with me. The fact that he could read me so well didn’t escape my notice either. Cocky bastard.

“To be honest, a little,”
I replied, not offering any more.

His finger reached out and lightly touched under my chin, lifting my face to meet his. “Tell me why,”
he asked softly.

My skin was humming with just his slight touch under my chin, and my palms started to sweat. He was affecting me more than ever, and he’d barely touched me. I was falling for my captor, and falling hard.