"Four of my sisters are married to Prakenskiis. Joley Drake is married to a fifth. That leaves two more. I know you're Gavriil's brother," she prompted, one hand between them as if she could ward him off.
He studied her face. The blue eyes and lifted chin. There was something there. Fear, but of what, he couldn't be certain. Of him? She had to know if Gavriil sent him, it was to watch over her, not harm her. She was family. His brothers claimed her as family, and that meant she was to be guarded at all times. They had enemies.
Kostya Sorbacov's son, Uri, was making his bid for the presidency. As Gavriil had pointed out, in order to do that smoothly, Sorbacov had to erase all evidence of those brutal schools and the men and women who had been forced to become assets for their country. There were hits out on every Prakenskii brother. All of them. Even Ilya, the youngest, who had mostly worked Interpol for them out in the open.
Lissa would be a pawn for Uri. He would know the Prakenskiis would do whatever it took to protect her. They had protected one another by cooperating with Sorbacov, allowing them to be trained and used as weapons.
"Are you going to talk to me, or do we go talk to my uncle?" she demanded.
"Why are you upset?" He stayed with Italian. Keeping to his role. "Explain this to me."
Her breath hissed out between her teeth. "Would you like it if someone put a babysitter on you?"
"Babysitter?" He'd never been called that before. He wasn't in the least gentle enough to ever be deemed a babysitter. "I don't know what you mean." Because she was bluffing. It was a good bluff. Maybe even a great bluff, but it was still a bluff. There was no way she could possibly know who he was.
She glared at him. Her eyes were even bluer, a glittering sapphire, pure and natural just like the rest of her. He could have sworn sparks flew around her hair. He half expected any moment for the silky strands to flame.
He stepped closer to her. So close her breasts brushed his ribs. "If you are looking for a man, bella, I am more than happy to oblige you." He made the offer a second time, nothing subtle about it.
Her lashes fluttered. She didn't look away from him. She had courage, he had to admit that much, and that made him admire and respect her all the more. "Fine. Be that way. But I know. I want to go into town. I'm meeting someone," she snapped. "You will not be coming with me."
He slid his fingers through her hair, his palm shaping her face. He told himself it was to throw her off-balance, but he knew it was because touching her was a compulsion he couldn't resist. "I will be coming with you, Lissa. I am assigned as your bodyguard. Where you go, I will go. Don't try to run off, because that will only make both your uncle and me angry."
There was no way she was slipping out from under his guard. No possible way. Especially if she had a date. Why the thought of her with another man angered him, he had no idea, but it did and she damn well wasn't going anywhere without him.
She froze when he touched her. He felt her tremble. The reaction so slight it was almost undetectable, but he was too tuned to her to miss it.
Lissa stared up into that handsome, masculine face with the too-old eyes. It was his eyes that captured her. Not his wide shoulders or the way he moved, so silent, like a predator. So fluid like a dangerous jungle cat. Not his narrow hips or the muscles rippling beneath the shirt that was stretched so tightly across his chest. Not the strong columns of his thighs either. It was definitely his eyes.
When he looked at her, he wholly focused on her, yet at the same time, she knew he was aware of everything and everyone around him. When she looked at him so closely, she knew he was wearing tinted contacts. Colored contacts. There was no way of knowing what color his eyes really were, but they weren't that deep brown. Still, his eyes captivated her.
His face was all angles and planes. Hard. Masculine. Strong jaw. His nose was almost aristocratic when one looked closely, and she was looking. Dangerous. There was an aura of danger surrounding him. It was in the stamp of his mouth. His jaw. Mostly, it was there in his stillness. And in his eyes.
Loneliness. He was so alone. She knew, because she was. She had to hide who she was. What she was. If, as she suspected, this man was a Prakenskii, he'd been born in Russia. He'd watched his parents die... For a moment her mind shut down to block memories from flooding in, from taking her someplace she couldn't go.
Tomasso, or Prakenskii, took her breath away, and no man had ever succeeded in doing that. Her entire body reacted when he was near. She'd never had that happen to her either. She hadn't lived a life conducive to inviting seduction with a man. Truthfully, she'd sacrificed that side of living willingly for her purpose. She hid on a farm, one that had unexpectedly become a home to her, surrounded by women and their men she'd eventually come to love. That had been a gift. Finding out she could respond to a man was a gift as well, but one not so welcome.
"I don't like to be touched." She whispered the words to him. Breathing him in. Lying, because maybe that assertion had been the truth, but it no longer was, not with him. Her heart pounded and butterflies took wing in her stomach.
Lissa didn't move away from him even as she whispered the admission. For one moment Casimir saw behind her incredible blue eyes to the woman she hid from the world. She was every bit as alone as he was. Every bit playing a role for others. And every bit as attracted to him, but trying to hide it.
The pad of his thumb slid along her jaw of its own volition. There was no stopping it because he didn't think about it. He needed to touch her in the way he needed to breathe. He didn't understand it, because he was a hunter. Others were his prey. He didn't touch them unless that got him close enough to kill. He used expert seduction to further his goals, or for relief, but it was never like this. Never a compulsion. Never a hunger. A need. This woman was under his protection. He shouldn't need this, but he did, and that need was stronger than any compulsion he'd ever experienced.
"Who is it you're going to meet in town? I'll arrange your protection. And I will be there, Lissa."
He stepped away from her because if he didn't, he would kiss her. The idea that he could come so close to making such a huge mistake appalled him. He should contact his brother and tell him the assignment was off, to send someone else, but he knew he wouldn't do that. He wouldn't trust her life to anyone else. Not now. Not ever.
His gaze drifted over her face. His palm itched. Really itched. He used his finger to scratch at the center in hopes of alleviating the annoyance, but it didn't work. He pressed his palm hard against his thigh. Rubbed it up and down against his jeans. Her gaze followed the motion of his hand as he rubbed, trying to make that itch go away. She inhaled sharply. Audibly. One hand flew to her throat in defense.
"Oh. My. God. You really are a Prakenskii. I was taking a guess, but you are. That's why we're..." She broke off and backed away from him. "It isn't going to happen. I mean it. Whatever your brothers have done to my sisters isn't going to happen between us." She curled her fingers tightly into a fist and held both hands tight against her thighs. "I have to think." She kept backing away. "This can't happen to me. I don't accept it. I won't ever let it happen."
"Now what are you going on about?" he demanded. But he knew. He knew because all Prakenskiis had psychic gifts. The one considered the most important gift of all was when they found the right woman, the perfect mate, the one who fit with them; they could seal that woman to them. He felt the power rising in him. Felt it in his hand. Knew that power was close and wanted to come pouring out of him. Because Lissa Piner, or Giacinta Abbracciabene, was that one woman. His woman. He kept his palm pressed tightly against his thigh, refusing to give in to the compulsion.
The problem was simple. He had no idea how to have a relationship. He wasn't looking for one. He refused to claim a woman when he knew he didn't have long to live. He wouldn't do that to her. What he would do was make certain that while she was in Europe, she was safe and then he would ensure she returned to her farm in Sea Haven, back where Gavriil and the rest of his brothers could wa
tch over her.
He didn't confirm or deny her accusation. She shook her head again and turned away from him, heading back to the house. She didn't look over her shoulder once to see if he was there. Obviously, she didn't want to know if he was a Prakenskii anymore. That irritated him on a primal level. Why, he didn't know, only that her complete dismissal of him was unacceptable.
Her uncle stood in the doorway watching their return, clearly waiting for her. Luigi's face didn't hold the customary smile. His eyes weren't lit. He looked as expressionless as a man like him could look. Again, Casimir watched her so closely that he saw the little tell in her fingers when she curled them into a fist in reaction to her uncle standing there. Something was wrong and she knew it.
She hurried up the last few stairs to the house. Luigi stepped back to allow her inside, and they walked in the direction of her uncle's private study. Casimir hurried toward the room that was on the other side of that wall - Luigi's library. The man hadn't read a book in ages, probably not since he was in school, but he had a huge, well-stocked library that Lissa spent a lot of time in. Casimir did as well, going through the books that Lissa read.
Most were maps and books on architecture. Buildings. Cities. Guides to cities. While in the library, he had discovered one very important feature. There was a common vent between the two rooms. He had removed the grate, placed a small wireless amplifier inside the vent in order to allow him to hear the conversations taking place in the study. When he was finished, he always carefully removed the bug and replaced the grate. No one was ever the wiser. He locked the library door, although it wasn't strictly necessary. Since he'd been there, only Lissa and he had gone into the room. Not even the maid went regularly.
"You found him, Tio Luigi? You're certain it's really him?" Lissa sounded matter-of-fact, all business, but there was an underlying excitement in her tone. Excitement, but grim as well.
"Yes. It has taken a number of years and a lot of money, but it is Cosmos Agosto. There is no doubt. I have made absolutely certain that it is the same man. He took the money from the Porcelli famiglia to betray my brother. Your father." Luigi spat the names at her.
"There can be no mistake, Tio."
"I have never made a mistake. Not in all these years of hunting them. It has taken years because we are careful. Very, very careful. We are not murderers, spilling the blood of innocents. This man ate at the table di mio fratello. He broke bread with your beautiful mother. With you, Giacinta. He was given the status of la famiglia. He was treated as one of you for years. He was trusted. He betrayed all of you. This man is living in wealth. His big house. His wife so much younger. He has grown lazy, thinking his betrayal has been forgotten."
There was a small silence. "Do you see the value of waiting, Tio? When they die, no one suspects it is payment for a debt from so long ago."
"You were right, I can concede that. Your restraint and wisdom has kept us safe all these years."
"Thank you for finding him." Lissa's voice was soft. Loving.
"I wanted him more than any other," Luigi admitted.
"I need a favor, Tio," she continued. "I need to go into the village to meet someone. I do not wish to have a bodyguard accompany me. I'll slip out alone..."
"No." Luigi's voice was firm. "I will not have you go unescorted. We think the Porcellis have forgotten us, but we don't know. You are not safe here. That's why I had you relocate to the United States when you were just eighteen. That's why you have become Lissa Piner. Your wonderful chandeliers hang in several rooms, so we have become good friends to the outside world. You and your work are famous throughout Europe, and many estates and hotels vie for the chance to have one of your creations. As each is handblown, they are prized for their beauty and rarity."
Lissa laughed softly. "Tio, you should do all my marketing for me."
"It is the truth, yes?"
"Perhaps. But I doubt if I'm famous. Well, my chandeliers are becoming popular in hotels, and I've been written up in a few magazines. That's helped to get my name out there. I like that I can contribute to the farm. Everyone works hard to make it a success and the last couple of years, I've been able to help out."
"You can travel easily into any country with no suspicion," Luigi pointed out.
"It is a help." She sighed. "If your heart is set on making me take a bodyguard, I will take Arturo. I've known him the longest."
Casimir knew Arturo had slowed down considerably. He'd been with Luigi for years and Luigi didn't have the heart to retire him. Arturo always accompanied Luigi when he went out, but Luigi always took two bodyguards.
"Giacinta..."
"Lissa," she insisted. "You have to call me Lissa, even when we're alone. You have to think of me as Lissa Piner. I can get away with calling you Tio, because of your age. It makes it more proper for me to spend time in your home, but you have to remember I am Lissa."
Luigi sighed. "I'll do better. I'm not so young anymore. Where are you going? Arturo has to be able to prepare."
"I'll be going to Salvadore's. Arturo doesn't have to do a thing. There is no danger to me if I go out tonight. No one knows of my plans. Arturo won't attract undue attention. You know if anyone else goes with me, someone will notice. I'm not going out as Lissa."
What the hell did that mean? Not Lissa? Then who? Casimir didn't wait to hear any more. He had to escape to his room. Lissa would think she'd won this round. She'd guess he was sulking. Deep inside, where no one could see, he grinned. There was a ring of truth in her voice when she'd told her uncle where she would be meeting her contact. Casimir simply had to ensure he was close to her table and could overhear everything she said. If possible, he would even be bold enough to plant a listening device.
All the better to hear, my living flame, he whispered to the empty room. He made his way to the vent where he had secured his suitcase filled with his tricks of the trade. He could be anyone. Anywhere. Any time. He was a master of disguise. She might have guessed he was a Prakenskii, but then, she was family. She was around five of his brothers all the time. Few people knew them, but she was observant and she probably suspected Gavriil and the others would never allow her to go to Europe where their mortal enemy resided without some kind of backup.
It took less than an hour to decide on his next role, receive the word he was off duty for the evening and make a show of retiring to his room early. It took much longer to become the man he hoped Lissa wouldn't see through. This time there would be no identifying marks of any kind and he would be older. Nothing she might associate with Tomasso.
Casimir slipped out the window, made his way over the roof to the other side of the house, away from the courtyard and garage where the cars were stashed. He had a bicycle in the potting shed. The shed was overgrown with vines and had long since fallen into a state of disrepair.
The bike was a good one and he practically flew down the narrow track that ran alongside the drive. The dirt pathway was used by the gardeners to drag bags of weeds, cut grasses and branches out of sight of the main house. He turned onto the road and put on another burst of speed. It wouldn't do to be caught by Lissa and Arturo anywhere near the estate. His new role was rather distinctive and they wouldn't fail to remember him. Never a good thing when she was already so suspicious.
He switched to the small car he had stashed in a garage just a few miles from the estate. He paid a nominal fee to house the vehicle, and no one had bothered it. Still, he was careful as he approached, looking for signs of disturbance. He never took chances. That had been drilled into him in the schools he'd attended and now, when there was a hit out on him, placed there by the very men he'd served faithfully for years, those lessons had come in handy.
3
Casimir arranged to enter Salvadore's just as Arturo approached with a dark-haired woman pacing just behind him. Casimir continued walking as they neared him, but it was all he could do to keep his mouth closed tight when it wanted to drop open in pure shock. He would never have known the woman walking
with Arturo was Lissa Piner. She was... plain. Pretty enough, but plain.
Lissa was so vibrant and alive. A living flame. There was no way to deny the passion in her. She drew the eye of men and women around her. It was impossible not to see her beauty and be drawn to it. She looked sexy, sensual, a woman made for long nights and pure sin. She moved with the flowing grace of a dancer. The dark-haired woman following Arturo into the cappuccino bar didn't come close to Lissa's beauty.
Just inside the door Casimir stopped to read the menu posted on the far wall. He kept an eye on the two of them. Arturo broke off and went to sit at one of the tables along the far wall where he could look into the mirror behind the counter and see everyone in the cappuccino bar as well as have the advantage of facing the door and wide windows overlooking the street.
The woman was the same height as Lissa, but not as curvy. In fact, she looked straight up and down. There was no sign of Lissa's generous breasts. Her hair was shoulder-length, a glossy black. Her eyebrows and lashes were dark as well as her eyes. There was a beauty mark on the right side of her lips. Still, there was no mistaking her mouth. Casimir had far too many fantasies about that mouth to fail to recognize her. Under that thin, stick of a disguise was his woman.
She went straight to a table in the far corner. Fortunately, it was in his path. Casimir pulled his book from his backpack and peered at the pages, reading as he walked up the aisle toward the area where the single tables were located, right where Arturo had chosen to sit. He bumped into a woman, bounced off her and banged into Lissa's table, apologizing in fluent Italian the entire time. He had to grab the table's edge to steady himself, deftly slipping the tiny bug beneath the table as he did so.