Chapter 8

She made it two steps through the back door when a shadow crossed her path, and Sotza, tall and sinister, moved away from the wall where he'd been leaning. Studying her while she was out on the balcony, vulnerable. She swallowed the scream that leapt to her throat and simply stopped, straightening her shoulders. If he was here to hurt her he would've done it. Maybe tossed her off the balcony or slit her throat while her back was turned. He was silent as a cat, managing twice now to sneak up on her.

"Obviously I need to get better locks and more security," she drawled, maintaining her cool since he didn't seem in a hurry to break the silence. Apparently her men needed a lesson on how not to let psycho assholes into her home. What the fuck was she paying them for?

"I agree that you need better security. But nothing would have stopped me from checking on you tonight." He stalked forward, his long legs bringing him right into her space. She tried to appear relaxed, uncaring, but her whole being was rigid with fear and anticipation. This man exuded calm, controlled violence. It seeped out of his very being. It scared the living daylights out of her. Yet the kind of power he exuded, to a woman who lived mafia her entire life, was also attractive.

He walked around her, looking down as he leaned so close she caught a sniff of smoke from the flares, spicy cologne and hard, male sweat. A hint of cinnamon, a scent she wasn't expecting, made her mouth water. He stopped behind her, bending his head toward her shoulder. He didn't touch her, but she felt his heat surrounding her, cocooning, capturing and holding her. "A rare jewel should not be left unprotected. When you become mine, I won't allow such lapses in your protection."

She snorted, leaned to the side, away from him, swivelled her head to give him her best scathing look, and said, "I'll never be yours."

His lips were so close to hers that she could feel each breath he took skitter across her face, her lips, her chin, her cheek. It was… exciting. Who was this fuck who could invade her space so easily, could bridge her ice, make her weak? When her husband became violent, she'd learned to turn that facet of herself off, the part that yearned for a man's touch. It was too dangerous to want a man because then it meant she had to give up a part of herself. The part that was too easily betrayed. Her trust. No, better she remain the ice queen.

But without a single touch, this man was obliterating her beliefs.

He didn't smile, but the slight creases around his eyes deepened in amusement. He said, "You belong to me, Vee, whether you admit it, whether you like it." He waited a beat, giving her time to respond. She wouldn't give him the pleasure. She was a mature, experienced woman, not some easily baited youth. He continued, "It's time to relinquish this city into my keeping. Time to accept defeat and move onto the next chapter."

Her breath caught. Neither of them moved. Like a scene frozen, they stood together. He at her back, her face tilted up in defiance to meet his. She wished that she'd kept her heeled boots on, wished she was taller. She needed the advantage of height in this moment. Felt the need to prove her worth in a man's world, in Sotza's world, and keep her carefully cultivated image. Cool, put-together, always in control.

"And what exactly is the next chapter?" Ice dripped from each word.

He didn't hesitate. "You will become my wife."

She let out a short bitter laugh. Took a step forward, away from him. Couldn't have him in her space while they talked. It was too disconcerting, fucked with her head. Made her want things she knew she couldn't have. They were enemies. Period. Nothing more. The 'next chapter' could only end one way. Defeat. Her death or his. Most likely hers. But she'd learned positivity in rehab, so she wasn't willing to write herself off yet.

Denial leapt to her lips, but she swallowed it. Why be so predictable? He knew her feelings regarding their upcoming nuptials. "Why do you want to marry me, Sotza?" She used his name for the first time. She took another step away and turned to face him. His eyes held no expression, gave nothing away.

Finally, he responded. "Why not, Vee?" His voice was warm but calculating. "We're both mafia royalty. You know the role and I can take and rule anything I want. Together we can rule several countries, scores of people, control trade in your country and mine."

She should have considered his words. Calmly considered each point as he made it. But in that moment she hated him, truly hated him. Like her late husband, Tony, Sotza didn't want her for herself. Didn't even want her body. Just wanted an alliance. Well, fuck him! Righteous fury ripped through her. "You can go to hell," she said, eyes narrowed, voice seething.

His face grew stony and his eyes narrowed in return. "You don't want to take this path with me, Vee," he said, calm despite the violence infusing his very essence, outlined in every nuance of his body. He seemed to be restraining himself from grabbing her, shaking her, making her see reason. Good, she wanted him on edge, so he understood how she felt every time they clashed.

Then he hit her where it hurt. "Our union is inevitable. Any resistance on your part will be in vain. It will cost more lives."

He'd figured out at the dockyard that she was unwilling to sacrifice her people in this war. Still, in that moment, she didn't care. "Get out." Her voice held icy command, leaving no room for denial.

He nodded, acquiescing. Perhaps he knew she was reaching a breaking point. Thought she might do something stupid if he kept pushing. He moved toward the front door of her condo, his tread silent, his movements imperceptible unless someone was looking right at him.

God, he was good.

He turned, before leaving, his voice quiet but sinister. "Put the ring back on."

Then he was gone. Once he was out, his overbearing presence gone from her space, she felt like she could breathe. Her knees went weak and she collapsed, crouching in the middle of her living room. She dropped her head into her hands and clutched her hair. She felt helpless. She felt aroused. But most of all she felt angry.

Rage ignited within her, racing through her veins, lighting her up with purpose. Sotza was just another man, trying to push her around, trying to dominate her. She took several deep, calming breaths, dropped her arms and stood, mind racing. An entire year of work completely undermined and dismantled in a matter of weeks. Her precious reputation was in tatters now, thanks to the shadowy, predatory Venezuelan. She couldn't wait to get her hands on the man and carve him into little pieces. First, she had to take back her territory, then she would show him what 'Butcher' really meant, mafia style.