Chapter 13

"I must say." Sotza smoothly slid into the booth next to Vee. He shifted until he was sitting so close his thigh was brushing hers. "I wasn't expecting to dine with such a charming companion this evening."

Vee kept her face as neutral as possible and purposefully slid a few inches away from him. She lifted her water glass and took a sip before carefully placing it back on the table. It took effort to make sure her hand didn't shake, that she didn't accidentally spill the water. She was sitting next to one of the most dangerous men in the world, and though she could be pretty vicious herself, she couldn't hold a candle to him. She boldly studied him, allowing the silence to linger. She'd asked for this meeting so that she could finally take back a little control.

Everything about him pissed her off. From his dignified presence to his impeccably tailored clothing. Every time she saw him he was wearing a version of the same suit: dress pants, white collared shirt with a French cuff paired with appeared to be silk knot cufflinks, silk, Jacquard black tie, vest and coat. He stood out against the Miami backdrop, overdressed for the weather, too formal for the laid back party city. Yet the quiet air of deadly menace that he exuded negated his strange formality. He was not a classically handsome man, face too sharp, features too strong. Thick eyebrows, penetrating dark brown eyes, a long, thin nose, high cheekbones, strong clean-shaven jaw. There was a slight curl to his dark, greying hair, which he groomed to include long sideburns. They only emphasized the sharpness of his facial features, giving him a penetrating, hawk-like appearance.

And though she knew better, should be repulsed by how the man operated, her body reacted to his. Every time she saw him. Something about him was intensely attractive. Not any individual thing, but the whole package together. She didn't like to acknowledge it, but his dogged pursuit of her certainly didn't hurt either. It annoyed her that she reacted so strongly to him, made her want to slit his throat at the earliest opportunity, yet Vee had to admit that a marriage proposal from such a powerful, good-looking man was enough to make even her cold, ice-filled heart flutter.

Finally, after an appropriately rude amount of time had passed, she spoke, her voice cool. "Hiding doesn't suit me."

His thin lips stretched into a semi-smile as his eyes dropped down her body. He shifted slightly, signalling a nearby waiter. "No, my dear, hiding does not suit you." He turned to speak to the waiter. "I'll have a bourbon, neat. And champagne for the lady please." Sotza turned back to her, his arm across the back of the booth, pinning her in.

Vee frowned, her gaze following the retreating waiter. "If I'd wanted a drink I would've ordered one for myself."

Sotza ignored her comment. "Why did you invite me here this evening, Vee? Not that I'm not delighted, but your behaviour thus far has indicated you don't particularly enjoy my company."

Vee's jaw was beginning to ache from clenching her teeth together in an attempt to keep a rein on her anger. She struggled not to give away her emotions, to keep her face as immobile as possible while she studied him with what she hoped appeared to be glacial indifference. Still, she couldn't just let the drink thing go. "You're a heavy-handed prick, you know that?"

He dipped his head in acknowledgment and reached for his drink as the waiter arrived back at the table. Sotza drank deeply, seeming to appreciate the smooth liquor as it slid down his throat. He didn't order another though, simply placed his empty glass on the table and continued to study her. His face said indifference, but his eyes and body spoke of heat and lust. It was a confusing combination. He off-balanced her, made her wonder what his true intentions were. As flattering as it was to receive a marriage proposal, she knew she couldn't trust his motives. No one fell in love that quickly.

"I want to negotiate," she said in her firmest voice, ignoring the drink in front of her. She wouldn't touch it. The waiter came by to see if Sotza wanted another drink and while he was there she handed him back the champagne. "I don't drink alcohol, and if my date had done his homework, he'd know that." Sotza gifted her with a small incline of his head as he waved the waiter away. She suspected Sotza already knew her preferences, was fucking with her. He wasn't the type to leave any box unchecked.

"What are we negotiating?" he asked, tapping his fingers against the booth, just behind her head.

She stiffened at how close his hand was to her hair. Her voice came out sharper than she intended when she spoke. "My home. Your retreat."

He tilted his head slightly, examining her, eyes appearing to pick her apart. Vee hadn't taken much when she'd fled her apartment, but she'd taken enough clothes to prepare for every eventuality, whether it was murder or dining with the Queen of England. Tonight she was wearing a light pink silk sleeveless blouse that complimented her pale complexion, a fitted rose coloured skirt and a long-sleeved black leather jacket that fit her like she was born in it. On her feet she wore her favourite pair of steel-spiked five-inch heels.

"I want you to give me my city back. I want you to take your people, turn around and go back to where you came from," she said, her voice strong and sure though she was quaking on the inside. "No more threats, no more violence."

He picked up her water glass and drank from it, his lips touching the spot hers had touched. A bolt of pure lightening sizzled through her body. "And what exactly will you give me for such a concession?" he asked, replacing her glass on the table.

She gazed at him, eyes narrowed. "I won't retaliate, won't come after you with everything I have."

"It would be suicide," he said, his fingers tapping faster. She twisted around to look at them and then shot him a pointed glare.

"At this point what do I have to lose?" she asked heatedly. "You've taken everything from me. My city, some of my men, my position, my dignity, even my rivals. Why should I sit back and let you take what's left?"

The lines around his mouth tightened giving him a foreboding look. "You could lose your life, Vee."

"And what's that worth?" she snapped.

His hand moved so fast, so independently of the rest of him that she didn't know what was happening until her head was slammed back against the seat and his face was hovering inches away from hers. He'd tangled his fingers in her hair and wrenched her backwards against the booth, using the strength in his long fingers to twist her head slightly to the side so she was facing him.

"That is not an option," he said, his voice colder than anything she'd heard from him yet.

"What?" She tried to focus on what he meant while shafts of pain contrasted with a heightened physical awareness, which ran from her head down the length of her body. What wasn't an option?

"You don't get to die, Elvira." His lips lifted in a slight snarl, giving away some of the emotion he tried so hard to withhold.

"Why?" she demanded, pushing on despite the dangerous aura pulsating from him. It was never a good idea to piss off The Butcher. "I'm nothing to you, expendable. You've made my presence in this city pretty much unnecessary. So why do you care if I die?"

He leaned in, so close that she could feel his breath caressing her. It was warm, crisp and smelled like cinnamon, as though he'd been chewing gum or something right before their meeting. Had he anticipated a kiss? And why the fuck did she care. They were talking about her possible death for Christ sakes.

His dark, velvety brown eyes now held fire. He emphasized each word he spoke with a quiet assurance. "You are rare, Elvira. A jewel among rocks. Your death would be blasphemy."

Her thoughts scattered. His actions were so at odds with his words. His hands hurt and threatened her, but his eyes and voice caressed her, wrapping her in erotic tension. The only thing she could think to say was, "Don't call me Elvira. I hate that name."

He chuckled, the sound dark and delicious, sending a shiver right through her. His eyes dropped, chased her shudder from the top of her throat, past her breasts, which were peaked beneath her jacket, right down to her lap. He loosened his fingers in her hair and stroked them through, smoothing the strands.

"You belong to me, Vee. And no one harms the things that belong to me."

"I'm not a thing!" She jerked her head away from him. "I was boss in this city until you came along."

He shrugged and allowed her some space. "Regimes fall, my dear. If you're smart, you'll follow the path of the victor. Take what I offer and be thankful that staying alive is an option. It wouldn't usually be under these circumstances."

"Fuck you," she snapped, out of options for comebacks.

"You want to be careful what you do and say right now." His cool mask slipping back into place. "We're nearing the finish line and it's just about time to stop playing around. As much fun as I've had here with you I need to get back to my home."

"You're psychotic," she hissed. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

"You are acting like a feral cat, Vee, trapped in a corner. You seem to think the only way out is a fight to the death. I can assure you it's not. I won't allow anything to happen to you, even if it means hurting you in the short term to ensure that there is a tomorrow for both of us."

She frowned and pressed her lips together to stop herself from snapping out another clever comeback like the last one. He was right, she was acting like a trapped animal. Every move she made reeked of fear and desperation. She needed to be smarter, think five steps ahead of him. Only who the fuck knew what was going on in his crazy head? "I think we're done here," she finally said, her voice colder than her eyes as she stared through him.

He sighed regretfully and moved away from her, standing up. Before he left he pinned her with a heated stare. "Last move, my queen. I'm coming for you."