Shadow Reaper (Shadow #2)(9)

He remained locked in place, his gaze drifting over her body, taking in every detail. She was unexpected. Not the tall, slim woman he'd always imagined he wanted. She wasn't short and delicate, either, but somewhere in between. She wasn't a redhead, and he'd always thought that his favorite. She had curves and pale skin; her eyes were large, hazel, and shaped like a cat's. She had blond hair and was graceful, a bit fragile-looking, reminding him of an exotic flower. She looked mixed race to him, part Asian  – Japanese perhaps  – in spite of her coloring. He never would have looked in that direction after so much trauma, yet every cell in his body responded to her.



"Sorry, sweetheart," Emilio said. "Interviews are closed."



The woman stood there, right in the center of the doorway, clutching the book to her chest. She was taller than both Emmanuelle and Francesca, but lacked the height of the supermodels he often dated. It was impossible to tell how long her hair was. The shiny blond mass was swept up with long hairpins in some intricate style he couldn't begin to figure out, but it left her neck bare and vulnerable. Her skin was flawless. Soft looking. Beautiful. Already his palms itched for his rope. Red, he thought, to complement her skin and that glossy blond hair. 



At Emilio's answer, the woman took two more steps inside the room, right under the blaze of lights they'd purposely set up. His heart, now a pounding drum, nearly stopped. The lights threw her shadow into sharp relief behind her on the wall. The shadow was dark and thin but threw out strong tubes, feelers reaching toward other shadows. When there were none, the feelers reached farther for connections, elongating, seeking, prompting another step from her.



His breath caught in his throat as the tube slid along the floor, moving through shadows until it connected with the shadows where he stood. It hit like a freight train. Jarred him. Shook him. Filled his cock with hot, urgent need. Lust was sharp and terrible, almost uncontrollable. He felt that same wild pounding in his heart hammering right through his cock. He knew she felt it, too. Her head came up as if scenting danger and her eyes moved around the room warily.



"Come in," Ricco managed, but he didn't know how he could speak in a normal tone. No part of his body seemed his own, not even his voice. He was grateful for his strict training. He kept all interest from his tough features when his entire being reacted to her.



Her gaze jumped from Emilio to him. He was in the shadows and she probably hadn't spotted him immediately. She hesitated, and he couldn't blame her. He was intimidating and knew it. The Ferraros were born intimidating. Time seemed to stand still as he waited for her to obey his order. It had been an order. Ricco was used to obedience from everyone around him  – obedience and deference. When he spoke, he expected and got an instant reaction.



Emilio glanced at him sharply, heaved a resigned sigh and sank down into the high-backed chair at the conference table. He beckoned to the woman. "I guess you're not too late, sweetheart." He indicated the chair across the table from him. "Did you bring a portfolio? Anything with your picture?" He held his hand out for the book.



Mariko Majo could barely breathe through the need rushing through her veins like molten lava. She didn't understand what was happening. One moment she was perfectly fine, a little worried she was not going to get the extremely important interview, and the next, she was overwhelmed with need  – with a hunger she'd never known. For the first time in her life she had the urge to turn around and flee. She knew danger when she saw it, and Ricco Ferraro was pure danger.



The two men were both waiting. She lifted her chin and forced her body into movement. She hadn't expected Ricco Ferraro to be in the interview room. She knew the hotel belonged to the Ferraros but not one woman had come out of the conference room talking about him. She knew it was him because, of course, she'd seen photographs of him; who hadn't? He was in all the magazines, online and paper both. He had quite a reputation as a ladies' man and she could see why he would deserve it. He was gorgeous. Stunning. Scary.



She took several steps into the room, but then the door swung closed behind her and her heart jumped and then began to pound. Fear had a distinctive taste. She glanced back at the door. She wasn't a coward, she never had been, but the Ferraros were reputed to be in organized crime, a dangerous family to have anything to do with. She felt a little desperate trapped in the room with the two very intimidating men. It was whispered that they could hear lies. She had secrets. Too many. The last thing she needed was for one of the Ferraros to ask her questions.