Sweet Temptation by Cora Reilly

I froze, caught off guard by his sudden closeness. How could he kiss me when he
was angry?
He turned around with a sharp exhale and stalked a few steps away before he
slanted me a cautious look. “You don’t have to be scared. I won’t force myself
on you. Last night was necessary, but I won’t seek you out again until you want
me to.”
He sounded tired again and as if he were certain I’d never want him to. What
had happened between his wife and him? I pushed the thought of her to the back
of my mind, and with it the accompanying uneasiness.
I should have said something, but I was overwhelmed—by the situation, by
the kiss that still echoed in my lips, by the look in Cassio’s eyes. I felt like I was
caught up in a current, which spun faster and faster, leaving me disoriented.
Yesterday morning I’d been me, an eighteen-year-old girl who loved art and
Pilates. Now I was a wife, a stepmother, the society lady at an Underboss’s side.
With all my new roles, was there still room for me?
Cassio looked at me, nodding slowly, as if my expression gave him an
answer to a question he hadn’t even uttered. He walked over to the bed and sank
down. His broad shoulders and back were covered by long, thin vertical scars
that I hadn’t noticed before. Many of them.
I approached him to get a better look. Cassio didn’t say anything, only
looked at me. I pointed at one of the scars then lightly touched it but pulled my
hand away after a moment.
“You can touch them,” Cassio said calmly, but his voice had an edgier note
to it. I brushed my fingertips over the scars on his shoulder blades and back.
Some fathers tortured their sons to make them strong. Cassio was strong and
brutal. Was his father the reason for it? “Who did this? Your father?”
Cassio shook his head. The way he was watching me made me blush. I
wasn’t even sure why. “When I was around your age, a few of my men and I got
captured by the Bratva. They whipped me before they moved on to other torture
methods.”
My mouth ran dry at his clinical tone. “My God, that’s horrible.” I sank
down beside him on the edge of the bed. His musky scent made me want to lean
closer, to run my nose along his skin and taste it. What a ridiculous thought.
“Why did you think my father did it?”
“Because that’s how many Made Man make their sons strong. You know my
uncles… abusing their children is their favorite sport.”
Cassio’s eyes lingered on the small scar on my knee then moved up to the
one on my outer thigh and one on my upper arm. They weren’t prominent, but
sitting as close as we did, they couldn’t be missed.
“I have one on my shoulder too,” I said, twisting to show him the scar there.
“Four scars. Not much in comparison to yours.”
Something in his gaze made my pulse pick up, something dark lurking in its
depth. “Those scars,” he murmured. “Did your father create them?”
Oh. Now I understood the look. “No,” I said quickly and without thinking