4

Aaand cue the blushing. I’m disappointed in myself for not lasting that long. But I suppose it was a losing battle from the start.

“Y-you really don’t have to do this,” I blurt.

He doesn’t raise his head from where his fingers are kneading at my skin. “You’re in my house, pants ruined, with your thigh draped over my leg. We’ve come this far. No point in turning back now.”

I look down and nod, hoping that he hasn’t noticed the blush. Oh, who the hell am I kidding? Of course he’s noticed. My usually pale skin goes from borderline anemic to blotchy sunburn in a matter of seconds. Subtle, it is not.

I stay silent while he cleans the wound with a cotton swab to remove the debris. For such a big, brutish man, he’s meticulous and gentle.

“Dealt with a lot of bloody wounds in your lifetime?” I joke.

“Many. I don’t usually stick around for the bandaging part, though.”

“Ha-ha,” I say awkwardly. “Bringing new meaning to the word ‘ladykiller.’”

He doesn’t so much as crack a smile. He does, however, keep cleaning my bloody thigh.

My heart rate rises so fast that my palms start to sweat. All those mob rumors came racing back into my head. It’s not like they’re that hard to believe. I mean, the man lives on a fenced compound bristling with every type of security known to man. It’s beyond me now why I thought trespassing here was a good idea.

Uri pulls back suddenly and I jump in place. He freezes, turning his eyes on me. “You can relax. I’m just getting the disinfectant.”

I clear my throat. “Right. Of course. Knew that.”

He reaches into the kit and comes up with a bottle. “Are you scared of me, Alyssa?”

“Who, me?” A shiver runs up and down my spine. “No. Never.”

Uri smirks darkly. “You’ll have to do better than that if you want me to believe you. I can smell a lie a mile away.”

Is it just my imagination or has his grip tightened around my leg? Is this meant to be a threat? A power play? Am I a dead woman walking? Was my ladykiller joke a little too on the nose?

Stay calm, I tell myself. Don’t let him see that he’s getting to you.

“I might be a little scared. I mean, look at where you live. Look at how you live. It’s intimidating as hell. And yes, so are you—but if you smiled more, that might help.”

“What makes you think I’m trying to help?”

A stab of pain in my leg takes away whatever retort I was getting ready to deliver. I look down only to realize that he’s applying the disinfectant.

“A little warning would have been nice,” I snap.

“Pain rarely comes with a warning, narushitel.”

His hand brushes against my thigh and the heat rises up again. Great, that’s just what I need. More heat to really kick up the sweating another notch. He seems oblivious to the mental conflict raging in my head. Most people have an inbuilt fight or flight switch. Me? I have a flight or freeze switch. Tonight, it’s stuck on freeze.

I grit my teeth. “This is taking a while.”

“That’ll teach you to climb other people’s fences.”

I scowl. “There’s no reason for your fences to be that high. Or that sharp.”

“Considering a nosy neighbor tried to scale it tonight, I’m inclined to disagree.”

“I am not nosy!”

“Then why were you trying to scale my fence?”

There it is again—the freeze reaction. Because I needed to retrieve my giant purple dildo, that’s why.

“I… um…” Just tell him the truth. It’s a simple enough fix. “I just needed something.”

“No one takes anything from my estate unless they have my permission first.”

When he says it like that, it does sound stupid. I’m having a hard time remembering why I thought I was Jason freaking Bourne instead of just going to the gate and asking nicely like a normal person.

I’m the first one to break eye contact. “You know what? I don’t need the bandage, seriously. I can—”

“Stay still,” he growls. His voice is whip-sharp and my butt falls back into place instantly. “You will sit there until I say otherwise.”

I’m starting to wonder if maybe I should be panicking right now. I’m in a strange man’s house, at a strange man’s mercy. So what if he’s good-looking and rich? So what if he oozes this weirdly seductive dark charm that makes me shiver and sweat at the same time whenever he touches me? I bet plenty of serial killers are charismatic.

But Uri shows no signs of letting me go. He bandages up my thigh carefully, his eyebrows perched high on his brow the entire time. He looks pissed off—but then again, he’s looked like that since the second he sauntered up on me dangling from his fence.

The pain in my leg has reduced to a mild and entirely endurable sting. “Thank you,” I murmur softly.

“Oh, I wouldn’t thank me just yet.”

I swallow hard. Every time my heartbeat evens out, he says something to speed it back up again.

He waits a beat, then the corner of his mouth twitches up one degree. It’s the closest I’ve seen yet to a smile on him. He sets my foot down gingerly, then rises to his full height. “Come on. Dinner should be on the table by now.”

Is this really happening? Apparently, it is, because Uri stands up and starts walking out of the living room without even bothering to glance back. He’s that sure that I’ll follow him.

“Wait!” I protest, getting to my feet awkwardly.

He glances at me over his shoulder. “Yes?”

“I… I can’t have dinner here.”

“Why?”

A thousand obvious answers leap to the forefront of my mind. Because you have mafia ties! A history of shady business deals! Crazy security, troubling rumors, a smile that makes my knees feel like limp spaghetti. Just take your pick.

Ziva might have said as much to him.

But not Shylyssa.

“Because… well… look at me.” I really don’t know why I’m gesturing down to my thighs. That’s just what I need—more attention on my embarrassing state of undress.

His mouth twitches upward. “I’ve already seen the orange cat on your panties, Alyssa. Changing now won’t make me unsee it. Now, come.”

There’s so much authority in his voice that I feel like I don’t have a choice. One dinner won’t kill me, right?

I hope.

So I follow him to the dinner table, hoping to God that I don’t end up as the appetizer.