Dating the Don (Savage Crime Lords #1)

Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

CRISTIANO

P etty.

I should have expected nothing less from her.

It doesn’t take any sort of real effort on my part to catch the soiled apron before it hits me in the face. Doesn’t stop the water from splashing all over my own dirty clothes. I bite back all of my natural reactions and summon patience. This is a lot for her to handle and even more for her to accept.

Every one of my very worst fears is coming true right in front of my face.

I knew that she could never accept me for what I did for a living, the person that I was forced to become. I know that it’s difficult for her, and then some. It’s why I’ve never made a move on her in all of the years that I’ve known her.

“Well, that wasn’t very nice.”

Maeve’s eyes widen in shock. Whatever she thought that I was going to say, it clearly wasn’t that. Something that I normally would have laughed about if it weren’t for the serious and delicate nature of our present conversation. I need to get through to her. I want so badly to trust her and for her to trust me. I want her to come around so that we can have a logical, normal conversation but I don’t even know where to start.

It’s not like me to feel so deeply unsettled.

Maeve has no idea how important she is to me. How badly I tried to keep this from her so she would never find herself in this position. How many times during their friendship has Ada covered for me? To ensure that Maeve doesn't stray from the life goal that she had always set for herself. How many times have the two of us gone above and beyond to hide things from her? Even though she could understand the essentials of our life, we all decided—my parents included—that she would be kept out of it.

All of that work, years of being careful in my own home, undone just like that because of a mistake.

If she leaves this room in the state that she’s in currently, my men will call for her death. They will follow me, of course, but it’s still too close to my father’s passing for them to not question my reasoning. Her safety is and always has been my top priority. Which means that she’s not leaving this fucking room until she calms the hell down and listens to reason.

Carefully, because I know how much the apron means to her, I fold it and turn it over in my hands as I take another step into the room. Surely she has realized that there is nowhere for her to run in the damned bathroom.

“We both know that you’re not going to call the damned cops, Maeve,” I speak calmly as if she were a frightened animal. But try as I might, I cannot get the razor’s edge out of my voice. If I fail to get through to her, then there will be no choice but to keep her here as my captive.

Not that it would be a hardship to have a stunningly beautiful woman locked in my bedroom, waiting for me. I fiddle with the straps of the apron, pulling the cords around in my hands as I advance on Maeve. Her eyes dart to the door like she’s going to make a run for it. I’m counting on it actually. I rather hope that she does.

“Yes. I am,” she seethes, gritting her teeth at me. “You can’t stop me.”

“I think you will find that I can,” I answer.

“Fuck you, Cristiano!” She screams, making her move.

She should be ashamed of herself as it is so damned easy to catchher. She bolts, and I quickly wrap an arm around her waist to draw her back into me. In the next instant, I lassoher hands with the apron's straps, pinning them down at her sides. She virtually froths at the mouth as she struggles in my arms. She doesn't realize how much I've always liked her fiery side. Her temper is unmatched. I've never been shy about playingwith fireand hers is undoubtedly the most alluring.

Her back is pinned to my chest and I have an arm banded around her middle. The scent of her shampoo covers my face as she writhes in a futile attempt to free herself.

“Why don’t you stop fighting me so that we can get to the crux of the issue? Hm?” I breathe in her ear. My lips brush against her soft hair, and I have to fight to keep my mind from running away with me. “Not that I’m opposed to keeping you in my arms like this.”

“Now isn’t the time for your damned games, Cristiano!” She hisses in response.

She’s never taken a single one of my offers seriously. No matter how obvious I feel like I’m being, she always assumes that my suggestive comments are just me teasing her. Perhaps the mistake that I made was refusing to be even slightly violent around her. I’ve kept that side of myself completely hidden.

“No games, Maeve, just conversation. You want to tell me how you feel about what you saw?!”

“What are you now, my damned murder therapist?! Let me go!”

She tries to throw herself back,and I stop her. I turn us so that she is completely immobile and wedged between the bathroom counter and me. I can’t help but smirk. She must hatebeing pinned more than any other feeling or ideagoing through her mind. She's not even looking at me, even with the mirror right in front of her face.

I can’t stand that.

My free hand lifts, gripping her chin to force her to look up at me in the mirror. I hold her gaze, noting the flush to her cheeks, the red nearly drowning out the freckles that I adore. All I see is temper. I should be relieved. In the basement, I was so afraid to look her in the eye because if I had just inadvertently changed everything between us, I didn’t want to know. But of course, it did. She can’t see me torturing a man and then be the same. I stand here, all bloody, and yet, the longer I look at her, forcing her to look at me back, something shifts. Something in her deep brown eyes seems to soften. Does her inquisitive side overrule the fear that I’ve instilled in her?

“I know that you have questions, and I intend to answer the ones I can, and I know that you want to know what the man was saying about your mother. I understand that too. Maeve, I am not the enemy here and I need you to work with me, now more than ever,” I say plainly. There’s no point in beating around the bush. “To be frank, if you are not willing to work with me, your options are going to become very limited, very quickly.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No. I am merely telling you the facts.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Maeve snorts and tries to wrench out of my hold once more.

“We can’t take back what happened. Did I want you in the basement? Absolutely not. I would not have chosen this life for you, and I still wouldn’t, but we have no choice now. The damage has been done. The only choice moving forward is handling what you know.”

Above all else, my men will demand a damned good reason for letting her live. The obvious answer isn’t one that she’s going to like, even if it has been something that I’ve considered a great many times over the course of my life. She will never know just how many times her image crosses my mind late at night, how her voice has lingered in the back of my head for years.

“And what options are those?”

“I have a bargain for you, one that will ensure that we both get what we want.”

“I don’t care what you want.”

“Yes. You do,” I smirk.

She softens in my hold. I know for a fact that she didn’t mean to. She might claim otherwise, but she likes it a whole hell of a lot when I tell her what to do.

“So, be a good girl and listen to my offer,” I continue, my lip curling higher at the corner.

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Why not?” I grin as her face reddens further.

“Because I don’t… like it,” she protests, but her body sags further into my hold. I’m barely having to hold her back at all now. We both know she’s going to cave.

“I promise I will do everything in my power to get you the answers about your mother. We will look into her murder again and see if there are any ties between it and the Irish Mob, but you will not go to the police,” I warn her. There’s no room for argument in my tone.

“I wouldn’t… really…” Maeve sighs.

I know that too.

“Of course, not.”

“Is that all?” Maeve looks at me again, her face unreadable.

“No, one more thing. You’ll have to marry me.”

My words don’t register with her right away. She scoffs, thinking that I’m joking and then her brows lift and her eyes widen. “You can’t possibly be serious!”

“Oh I’m gravely serious,” I smile.

“No. Absolutely not. I’m not going to marry you!” She scoffs, completely out of it. Honestly, she’s got to keep her emotions in better control than that.

“It would not be a real marriage, Maeve. Come on now, use your beautiful brain for a moment.” I brush her hair away from her face. “The only reason my men won’t ask for your head on a platter for seeing what you did is if they realize just how important you are to me. That you can be trusted. That they can see for themselves without a doubt that you are on the same side as we are. At least until the heat dies down. You want freedom? This is how you get it.”

“That hardly seems like freedom,” she grumbles. But, there’s something else there too. Something that I can’t name. “A fake engagement?”

I dip my chin in a nod. I wholly and utterly ignore the way my heart seems to race at the mere notion of her seriously considering this.

“Fine.”

I release her. I carefully fold the apron, place it on top of the counter, and take a small step back from her so that we both have room to breathe properly.

“Good. I will arrange for us to purchase an appropriate engagement ring, and tell my mother the happy news. But, for now, go and fetch your things. You’re moving in.”

That gets her attention all over again. “What?!” She whirls on me.

“How else am I supposed to make sure that you’re doing what you are supposed to? I have to keep a close eye on you until I’m sure that you can be trusted.” I answer easily.

“You’ve known me my whole life!”

“Not like this. Clearly, the Maeve that I knew never would have threatened me like that.” I wink. I only say it to rile her up. “Go on, hop to.”

I grin the whole time that she sulks toward the door. “We have a ring to buy.”