*Evangeline's POV*
"Evangeline-"he calls in the most sinful slur that my name has ever been pronounced. "Am I going to be your first murder."
My legs staggered back as emotions I didn't even know could co-exist melted into one in my chest.
I don't know if it was hunger or the inviting ache in his barely restrained lust driven voice but I was beginning to get weak–in my head,in my hands and most especially in my legs.
"You are going to hurt yourself."he says gently despite the amusement in his eyes.
It's strange and downright scary how easily he can switch personalities,from yelling at me to caring if I hurt myself or not–or saving me from a statue to making his maids damn near waterboard me as they removed the dye from my hair.
"Put the mirror down."he says,this time his tone now hard and commanding.
And every single rebellious cell in my body decided to do the exact opposite. He was twice the size of me and even in a suit,I could trace out every toned muscle of him that would crush me but I wasn't going to back down.
I stayed silent too long and he was beginning to watch me keenly,as if reading my thoughts.
Maybe he can.
His heavy set brows tightened and my head immediately filled out his unsaid command without instruction.
He wants me to put the shard down,that I might hurt myself--no, he is sure I will hurt myself and he doesn't like the idea cause obviously he would rather do it himself.
An evil idea strikes in my mind–that was it. The trick wasn't going to be to hurt him,it would be to hurt myself. He must have paid a fortune to have me here-he wouldn't want to lose an asset.
I attempt to turn the weapon to my own neck but his hand grabs me before I can even flesh out the execution of the thought.
Dammit.
I knew he could read my mind.
"You are even worse at this than I thought,"he teased. "How are you going to switch teams on yourself mid confrontation?"
I tugged onto my arm but he is unmoving.
"Let me go."I say,trying to sound fierce but that was hard when you could feel your skin beginning to burn from a single touch.
His eyes narrow and his grip turns tighter instead.
I swallow and beg the angels to watch over me.
"First off" he begins,holding my gaze. "Let's go through all the reasons you would have been dead if I were any other person."
I feel my wrist burn and my grip on the mirror weakens,sending it falling to the floor but he effortlessly catches it with two fingers and returns it to my hand.
This time,the sharpest point of it is pointed at him.
"This way,instead of slashing,you could stab–which gives less time to react."
My stunned gaze shifts between the shard and his face,if I hadn't broken the bathroom mirror especially for this reason,I wouldn't be paid to believe this was actually a dangerous object and not a prop.
"Secondly–"he continues,releasing my hand. I had gotten too used to his strength supporting my arm so it slightly falls and he shoots me a disapproving look and angles my hand back to the position he left it.
"You're leaning back, Evangeline. You're trying to stay away from the very thing you want to destroy. Lean into me."
"How?"my lips asks before I get a chance to think it through.
"Stance matters."he said,kicking my feet slightly apart.
My balance shifts drastically but I don't regulate my legs to form solid fast enough and nearly crash into his chest.
I noticed–or I think I noticed him slightly leaning back when I nearly fell into him and was beginning to wonder if he was going to let me face plant in the name of instruction.
"You wouldn't be this woozy if you ate something you know."he mutters and I glare at him.
"Try again."
I frown slightly but even that in the quiet glow of the yellow lamp lights scarcely scattered in the room,he picks up on it.
"This time target my neck and not yours,"he says.
I stare at him,his relaxed stance,his seductive eyes,the small smile tugged on his cocky face and I do in fact want to stab that grin off him.
I lunge towards him and he grabs my hand again.
"Are you aiming for my throat?"
"Yes."I replied almost instantly.
He chuckles and releases my hand and casually walks behind me,I hold my breath as his arm brushes my shoulder,tensing every inch of me into cold goosebumps.
He settles behind me and guides me
toward the mahogany dresser. The wood was so dark and polished it looked like a pool of oil, reflecting the gold trinkets and crystal perfume bottles I hadn't touched since I got here.
The mirror is my perfect height but not his so my view cuts off from his shoulders and God knows I would sell my soul to watch his expression right now.
"The throat is too much work Santarella,"his voice isn't mocking this time,it's gentle..alluring,deceptive.
I release a stiff breath and take a deep breath of him. The high notes of sandalwood,old whiskey and oud invades my lungs so much that oxygen escapes to create room for him.
"Too much gristle. Too much bone," he whispered, his breath ghosting over the shell of my ear. I watched his hand in the reflection—large, tanned, and terrifyingly steady—as it covered mine.
He didn't take the shard. He just guided it. He slid the jagged edge away from the center of his throat and pressed it into the soft, pulsing dip just below his jawline.
"Here," he murmured. "The carotid. You don't need brute strength. You just have to be certain. One clean slice and the brain starves. I'd be dead before I could even tell you how much I liked the way you looked doing it."
My budding vagina drools at his voice and I squeeze my toes into the thick Persian rug to fight it.
"Try one more time."
This has to be serious sadistic tendencies–no sane man reacts this way in the face of danger.
I know better than not to obey and quite frankly,I want to test this too.
How far he would let me go,will I spill blood…would he care if I spill blood? Does he want me to spill blood?
I watch my reflection guide its hands to him,he doesn't let go…he doesnt say anything,I cant see his face.
The heat from him burns my back but the cold away from him is harsher.
I hesitate and his hand firms on mine,disapproving so I continued to his neck,to where he showed me.
He releases his hand and let me take the lead,silent as a hunting lion despite the steady rugged breaths breathing into my still-wet hair.
I press the mirror gently against his and look expectantly,pressing further with every breath.
Desperate to see a reaction,to see blood–to see him.
The door swings open and Deena stops short in her tracks,her lips agape with a tray of food in her hands.
I feel Vincenzo's head turned her way and by her regretful face,he must be glaring.
I only jump from my spot when the second figure slides through the doorway.
Vincenzo moves a step away and a groan vibrates in his throat.
Her face turns pale as a ghost when she spots me.
"Evangeline?"Marlene calls,clutching her purse as she stares between me and Vincenzo.
"Am I interrupting something?"