Page 2 of Lord of Passion

"And of course," I say, examining my fingernails again. Is that blood wedged on the corner of my index finger? "The matter of your brothers being such disappointment. I know this must be terribly embarrassing for you and your family's reputation."

Her hands tighten into fists and I see her thighs tense under the blue wool of her suit, as if she's ready to bolt for the elevator, or possibly punch me. "Where are you going with this, Mr. Johann?" she says, calmer than I expected and that pleases me to no end.

"You are painfully aware that you no longer have a place in our society." I continue, "And you think, perhaps, that it is presumptuous of me to bring this up."

Caroline is leaning forward now, like an arrow ready to be shot out of a bow. Her eyes sweep in the room again, looking for a way out. The elevator in the marble entry. I am sure she also knows about the emergency exit through the master bedroom to the stairwell, and most likely, the fire escape extending from the kitchen's sliding doors.

She wouldn't have time to reach any of them, of course.

"I do not say these things to upset you, dear," I smile as gently as I can, but I can feel the excitement swirling at the base of my spine. I wish I could have one of my knives right now, to spin it on my palm, check the weight and balance. If I could play with one of my blades, it would keep me calmer, but for the moment, I am in my human skin. "I am simply stating that you can see there were many things for me to consider before approaching you with my generous offer of marriage –"

"Excuseme?" she shoots to her feet, eyes wide.

"Please, sit down for a moment," I say. I am trying to look soothing, but based on her expression it's not working. "I assure you, I have no intention of causing harm."

To you,I think with a silent giggle.

"But the matter is simple, I'm in need of a wife. You are beautiful and well-recommended despite your recent unfortunate family history. I will give youanythingthat you need or want and I assure you, I will be a good husband. You will associate with the right kind of people. You deserve that, instead of serving others in your position here."

My lip curls with distaste before I can stop it. "My wife, having to visit the suites of strangers, doing something so pedestrian as delivering ice, making arrangements for opera tickets or handling someone's detestable little 'service dog'. You are meant for better things than that."

Her lovely eyes are glowing, luminous. Not exactly the fear I expected, more like fury. "This conversation is inappropriate," she says, still sounding calm. "I don't know who you are, other than the information listed on your check-in, but I have no interest in finding out."

I stand up, feeling disappointed, even though I knew she would respond in this way. But foolishly, I'd had a vision that she would fall into my arms and thank me, offering her beautiful face up for a kiss in gratitude for my offer to restore her to organized crime society. But she has her pride.

"You're proud," I say approvingly. "It's one of the things that I admire about you. But given time for some reflection, I think you will find that my offer is very generous."

I pull a ring box out of my jacket, flipping it open with practiced fingers. I've opened and closed this box half a dozen times today, and a dozen more yesterday when the jeweler finally sourced it- a yellow diamond perfectly suited for her coloring. I hold it up, angling the ring so that the light catches all the facets, making the diamond flash. She stares at it, not with the joy I had expected, but with rising alarm.

She slips her hand into her pocket and I wonder if she has an alarm button there, perhaps on her cell phone or a key fob. "I am not interested," she says slowly, precisely as if she's dealing with a madman.

Well, she is, I think, shaking with another silent giggle.

"I will be leaving now," she says calmly. "I think it is best if we both pretend this conversation never happened." She turns away from my offering of this beautiful diamond, striding confidently toward the elevator.

"Are you in the least bit curious about who I am?" My voice rings out behind her and her steps slow, just slightly. "Don't you want to know how I know everything about you? That you graduated with honors from Boston College? That your parents were killed in a car accident when you were only twenty-one? Or why yourprofoundlystupid brothers were so willing to fall in with the likes of Bujar Krasniqi?"

Ah, there's the rage I was looking for, with a dash of fear. She's hiding it quite well. "Don't ever speak to me again," she snarls over her shoulder. "Take your diamond, and your delusions and shove them straight up your ass."

My joy at her fury bubbles up into laughter. "We'll speak again, Caroline Basha."

She cocks her head, staring at Morris until I give him a nod and he steps away from the elevator. My last look at her is as she stabs a button on the panel, her eyes meeting mine as the door closes. Neither of us look away.

"Well, then," I say, the sound echoing in the big, empty room. "It's a beginning. Now, back to the meat."

Morris follows me down the hall, picking up one of the tubs of ice and stepping over to the generously-sized tub, pouring it over the meat. It groans, whimpering as its blackened eyes open wide, flaps of skin hanging loose on its face and chest. We've been playing since my lieutenant was caught delivering information to my chief competitor.

Myformerlieutenant. Now, he's just meat.

Taking my knife from the counter, I hold it up to appreciate it in the subdued light of the master bathroom, how it gleams along the steel blade. "We're not finished yet, meat."

Chapter One

In which Caroline would rather be anywhere else. Doing her taxes, cleaning out the garbage cans, getting a colonoscopy…

Caroline…

Cocktail parties are a special kind of hell.