Page 181 of Power
She laughed.
“We’ve both experienced great loss,” he continued. “We understand the fragility of life. We have family we love and friends who’ve become family. And I have a weakness for leggy brunettes named Simone.”
She nuzzled close. “Let’s go upstairs.”
As they ascended the sweeping staircase, she put her arm on his back and caressed him. “You do so much for everyone. All the time. When was the last time someone did something—anything—for you?”
At the top of the stairs, he stopped. “Elsa has always been there for me. She’s been my one constant.”
“Tonight, let me do something for you.”
He continued toward his bedroom at the end of the long hallway. She didn’t move. After a few steps, he turned around, spread his arms out, and continued walking backwards. “You have ten bedrooms to choose from.”
“I choose you,” she said. “But I’m going to massage you.”
He stopped walking. “You don’t have to, caro.”
“What does caro mean?”
“Dear one.”
“I love that.” After a second, she asked, “Wouldn’t you like to be pampered?”
“Of course,” he replied.
“Then, I’m going to take good, good care of my man.”
21
FOLLOW THE WHITE RABBIT
LUCIANO
Luciano was concerned for Simone, but he needed to play this one chill. She was being hunted by The Bomb Maker and her denial was blinding her to the harsh reality. As long as they were together, he would keep her safe.
In his bedroom, she stripped him bare, directed him to lie face down on his king-sized bed. She removed her pants, then her shirt and camisole, leaving her in a lace bra and panties. She climbed onto his back, drizzled oil into her hands, and pressed her warm palms against his back.
Her touch was soft, but the pressure firmer than he’d expected. She ran her fingers across his shoulders, slowly.
“Wow, you’re tight,” she murmured.
When she switched to using her knuckles, the pressure intensified. “Breathe,” she said and he inhaled through the discomfort.
One knot at a time, she worked his shoulders before pausing for more oil. Her hands felt like a gift from the gods. Yes, he’d paid for massages, but he’d never received one as a gift.
Despite the late hour—it was almost three in the morning—he didn’t object. This was her loving him, and he was grateful. As she worked out the tension in his shoulder blades, he couldn’t stop his mind from racing.
How did The Bomb Maker know she was offered the case? How did he know she’d taken it? And if he had access to that, finding her home address had been easy.
“Deep breath,” she murmured.
He inhaled and she dug her knuckle into an especially painful spot on his lower back.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Doing great,” she replied. “How’s the pressure?”
“Perfect, like you.” He craned his neck so he could see her. Her sweet smile was the medicine his vengeful soul needed.
