Dragon Burn Page 3

  He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it before returning to the boat. There he stood, watching her as it drove away.

  All the while, his offer rang in her head.

  Chapter Three

  Sebastian walked the Piazza San Marco while drinking his coffee. He stared at the two columns where capital executions used to take place. Mortals could be a brutal, fierce race.

  He slowly moved his eyes around him, watching the tourists clicking pictures from their mobile phones with the columns in the background as if the gruesome history didn’t affect them.

  After Gianna left him the night before, he’d returned to the palazzo, one of the many residences owned by Dreagan, confident in his plan of seduction for Gianna. But the longer it went without any communication from Con, the more concerned Sebastian became. He could plead his case, but he knew all too well just how Con felt about Ulrik.

  Until Sebastian had the proof in hand that he knew was out there, he wouldn’t bother talking to Con. It was the right decision, he knew it. Despite that, he had a disconnect from Dreagan because of it, and it left him feeling exposed.

  A sensation he hadn’t experienced since the war with the humans.

  He threw away his empty cup and turned, only to still when his gaze landed on Gianna. He slowly smiled because his toughest hurdle had been cleared.

  He’d gotten the elusive and frigid mortal to put aside her work and join him. Now that she was with him, he was going to make sure she never wanted to leave. What he was doing to Gianna was shite. He didn’t want to put her in the middle of things, but it was his only way to help Ulrik.

  For several seconds they stared at each other, the people milling about between them unseen and unheard. He made his way to Gianna through a mass of pigeons that took to the skies as he approached.

  He looked her over in approval. The camel-colored pants sculpted to her long, lean legs and showed off her very shapely bum. A simple black sweater could be seen beneath her belted black coat with its wide collar. Tall black riding boots and a black handbag draped over one shoulder completed the outfit.

  Her long red tresses were once more pulled away from her face in a bun. And he was dying to loosen it to see just how long her hair was.

  But that would come later.

  Right after he kissed her.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  She moved her hand behind her ear as if tucking hair, her finger brushing against the large, round, rose gold stud earring. Her gaze lowered to the ground for a heartbeat before returning to his face. “Good morning.”

  “I didna think you’d come.”

  She took a deep breath, her lips softening as she said, “I hadn’t intended to.”

  “But here you are.”

  “Here I am.”

  He smiled, feeling confident in his plans. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “I would, thanks.”

  They strolled side by side to a café. There he seated her before taking his own chair. He wanted her to grow accustomed to him so he could begin putting the difficult questions to her. Rushing would only set him back where he’d started. Patience was what was needed now.

  After they ordered, she sat back, staring at him. There was no nervous hand wringing or refusing to meet his gaze. The woman across from him didn’t appear to be afraid of anything. Though he’d like to see how she reacted to him in his true form.

  “Why are you smiling?” she asked.

  He moved his hand in an arc. “Look around. This place is beautiful. Does it no’ make you want to smile?”

  “You look at the world as if you’ve lived a charmed life where nothing has gone wrong.”

  It took a lot for him to keep the grin in place at her words. “On the contrary, I’ve had my share of unfortunate and tragic events.”

  “And still you smile?”

  “Nothing will change the past. What’s done is done. I could walk around with a frown in place, but what does that give me? Nothing but misery.”

  She crossed one leg over the other. “So you’re an optimist.”

  “If choosing to be happy makes me an optimist, then aye. I suppose I am. Are you a pessimist?”

  “A realist,” she replied succinctly.

  Their coffee arrived. When she sat up to pour cream in it, he asked, “What does a realist see?”

  She looked up with startled green eyes. “What do I see?”

  “Aye, lass. I look around and see beauty, even romance. I see couples celebrating honeymoons, anniversaries, or just their love. I see kids staring in wonder at the sights, and couples holding hands.”

  She held her cup between her hands and sat back once more. “That’s very optimistic of you.”

  “You doona see the same?”

  “Oh, I see the beauty and the romance. I see exhausted parents, fighting siblings, and couples hoping a trip would rekindle whatever it was they lost, whenever they lost it.”

  He sipped his coffee and regarded her with curiosity. “That sounds like you’re tipping into the pessimistic side.”

  To his surprise, she smiled briefly. “I think I was.”

  “What could make a stunning woman like yourself so cynical?”

  “I’m just lucky I guess.”

  It was going to take much more to open her up. For the majority of the mortals, it took only a small nudge to get them to talk about themselves. Gianna was the exception. Not only was she malcontent and a loner, but she was fiercely independent and exceedingly private.

  Which, surprisingly, made him want to know her even more. Again, she reminded him she was a puzzle. And he was very good at solving those.

  “What about you?” she asked. “What makes you so sanguine?”

  “That’s a long story.”

  She raised a red brow. “Afraid to tell it?”

  Her taunt made him laugh. If she only knew...

  “I’ve a friend who has been going through a verra difficult time for what feels like an eternity, but I think I’ve figured out a way to help him.”

  She raised her cup to him. “Bravo. You must be a good friend indeed to take time out of your life to help him.”

  “Would you no’ do the same?”

  “If I had friends, yes.”

  Her confession, given as if it meant nothing, mystified him. It was a natural course of almost every being to have at least one person they could turn to. Gianna had pushed everyone away, even moving far from her family.

  He realized there might be an opportunity for him now. “I have a large family. My friend is really like a brother. I’ll do anything for my family.”

  “So you’re close to them?”

  “Aye,” he said with a nod.

  The sound of a child’s laughter caught her attention. She turned her head to watch a couple with three young children walk past. “I only see my family once a year.”

  “Do you miss them?”

  “I was really close to my mother. More so than was probably normal for a mother-daughter relationship. She was my best friend, the one person I turned to for everything. She died seven years ago.”

  That was information Ryder hadn’t given him. Probably because he didn’t think it was pertinent to the mission. “I’m verra sorry.”

  “She was the glue that held our family together.” Gianna smiled softly. “She was very optimistic, just like you. But,” Gianna said, the light fading from her eyes. “When she was gone, there was no one to buffer my father and me.”

  Sebastian took another drink of coffee. “Family can be a blessing as well as a curse.”

  “No truer words have been spoken.”

  “So you find happiness in your work?”

  She sat up a little straighter and leaned forward, setting her cup on the table, but continuing to keep her hands around it. “Most people work in order to live. I live to work. It brings me fulfillment.”

  “You’re good at what you do then?”

  “I am.”

  He liked her
confidence as well as her ability to admit her strengths without sounding vain or arrogant. She seemed tightly wound, just like her hair. And he was ready to loosen her up—and make her burn. He hadn’t expected to feel such…hunger…for her, but there was no denying it was there.

  “What is it that you do, exactly?” he asked.

  Her face lit up as she spoke of recently taking control of a multibillion-dollar business. “But that’s just in the past year. My main job is that of personal assistant to Oscar Cox. He’s a British businessman who has made his wealth in various companies.”

  “Why Venice?” he asked. “Could you no’ find a job like this in New York?”

  She set aside her finished mug and gave a slight shrug. “I was on my way to having such a position in New York, but I wanted a fresh start. It turns out my uncle had a friend in Venice who told him about the job. He urged me to apply for it. I intended to, but before I could, a headhunter called me about the position. The next thing I knew, I had a phone interview, then I was flying to Italy for a face-to-face interview. I got the post a week later.”

  “Sounds like it was meant to be.” It also sounded as if her family might have a connection to Mikkel, who was posing as Oscar Cox. “What do you do, exactly, as a personal assistant?”

  “Everything,” she said with a chuckle. “I keep his calendar in order, schedule meetings, plan events, correspond with individuals, make his travel arrangements, and things like that.”

  “I see.”

  It would be so much easier if Sebastian didn’t have to hide everything from Gianna. The problem was, he needed to determine if the man who owned her company and committed various crimes against the Dragon Kings was Mikkel and not Ulrik before he could take the next step.

  He knew in his gut it wasn’t Ulrik. Not that Ulrik was innocent of everything. But Con saw their old friend in a different light because he had no choice. Sebastian wasn’t confined by the restrictions placed upon Con by being the King of Dragon Kings. That allowed Sebastian more freedom, and it gave him the ability to look for things that might just verify what he knew to be fact—that the Mikkel everyone at Dreagan kept hearing about was in fact someone other than Ulrik.

  The fact Mikkel and Ulrik looked nearly like twins was what made Sebastian keep coming back to them being family. That and a distant memory of Ulrik having an uncle named Mikkel. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Did that mean that Ulrik knew about Mikkel? If so, why were they working together?

  The obvious answer was that Mikkel wanted to be a Dragon King. Which wasn’t going to happen as long as Ulrik was alive.

  That realization went through Sebastian like dragon fire. He looked around, his mind racing. If Mikkel was after Ulrik’s position, then that meant he had some way to kill Ulrik.

  “Sebastian?”

  He jerked his head and attention back to Gianna. “Aye?”

  “Are you all right? Because you looked like you remembered something awful,” she said, concern clouding her gaze.

  He made his shoulders relax as he smiled. “My apologies. The business that brought me here intruded for a moment.”

  “Perhaps I can help.”

  “Aye, but let’s discuss that later. I’m ready to see Doge’s Palace. Will you come with me?”

  She uncrossed her legs, her lips curving in a smile. “I think I will.”

  Sebastian paid their bill and they rose together. He put his hand on the small of her back as he guided her through the tables. He saw the way her head turned to the side and her eyes lowered to his arm.

  He gazed down at her as she looked forward, her chin lifted. The more time he spent with her, the more she captivated and fascinated him, which made his job of seducing her even easier.

  His eyes traveled to her mouth. Every time she spoke, his gaze would drift to her full lips. His balls tightened each time there was even the slightest curve to her mouth. And when she’d blushed last night, he’d hardened.

  She was an Ice Queen begging to be thawed.

  And he was just the Dragon King to do it.

  Chapter Four

  Seduction can come upon you like a whisper, brushing against your skin with a subtle promise. It can surround you like warm velvet, its caress provocative and tempting. It can blitz you, overwhelming your senses until there is only one thought—him.

  Gianna didn’t know when, she didn’t know how, but Sebastian’s seduction had flooded her like the wispy fingers of mist before effortlessly besieging with the skill of a warlord.

  Ever since she found herself in his arms the night before, she hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind. Not even work could shove him aside.

  She’d passed the night weighing his offer of spending the day with him. She waffled back and forth until she finally dozed off. When she woke and got into the shower, she still hadn’t come to a decision.

  As she’d left her home that morning, she’d told herself she was going for coffee. And ended up at the Piazza San Marco.

  With him.

  She’d seen him long before he noticed her. It gave her a chance to study him at leisure. He wore black slacks and a button-down in a purple so deep in color it was almost black. The black leather jacket sat upon his wide shoulders like an afterthought instead of a necessity.

  The breeze was gentle, ruffling the ends of his golden brown hair that swept atop his shoulders. He studied the architecture around him, not with wonder, but...almost as if it was intruding.

  Not once did he appear to notice any of the women who endeavored to capture his attention. Yet he looked down and smiled at the pigeons who came close to him. And he gazed at children with a kind of amazement, like he wasn’t sure what to think of them, but he couldn’t look away.

  Like she couldn’t stop staring at him.

  Then he turned and locked eyes with her. Her heart had actually tripped over itself. Not once in her life had she ever experienced such a reaction to anything. Chills raced over her body that had nothing to do with the cool temperatures and everything to do with the enigmatic, baffling man who held her utterly spellbound.

  His smile was both sensual and secretive. She didn’t remember what he said after he walked to her. It had been a question, and she’d agreed. The next thing she knew, they were having coffee.

  To say she was shocked to find herself talking so readily to him was an understatement. What was it about him that made her feel comfortable? Relaxed, even?

  As they walked from the café, his hand rested on the small of her back. The pressure of his palm against her was so profound that, for a moment, she wondered if she had on clothes, because it felt as if he were touching her skin.

  Once the mass of people thinned out, he dropped his arm to his side. Gianna’s displeasure at that set her on edge. Nothing was as it should be. It was as if she was being spun this way and that, turned upside down, and just before landing on her feet, she was twirled about again.

  As they approached the Doge’s Palace, she saw none of the grandeur, despite it being one of her favorite museums. Because today every fiber was attuned to the man standing at her side.

  Once inside, she barely looked at the ornate canvases and frescoes by some of Venice’s greatest artists or any of the magnificent Venetian Gothic style architecture that made the palace into such a tourist draw.

  It wasn’t until they walked into the sumptuously decorated Chamber of the Great Council that she took notice. He stopped them in the middle of the room to take it all in.

  “The world’s longest canvas painting,” he said as he looked at the Paradiso that was painted above the Doge’s throne.

  She met his gaze. “In one of the largest rooms in all of Europe.” Gianna then motioned to the work ringing the top of the walls. “The same artist, Jacopo Tintoretto, also painted the portraits of all the past doges in order.”

  Sebastian walked to the section where a black cloth was painted in place of a portrait. “Ah, the infamous Doge Marin Faliero. His face would’ve been here had
he no’ committed the ultimate treason.”

  “Unfortunately for him, his coup attempt failed, which resulted in his death as well as the damnatoio memoriae,” she said.

  “Total eradication of his name and memory from all records.”

  She frowned when she saw grief fill Sebastian’s eyes, and she knew it had nothing to do with Faliero. When he caught her looking, he wiped away any trace of sadness.

  It appeared that the optimist had something dark in his past. Or perhaps it was his present. She had a suspicion that somehow that was what brought him to Venice. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask, but she held back at the last minute.

  Whatever he was involved in didn’t include her, and she needed to keep it that way. No matter how sexy he might be, Sebastian was just a minor diversion she was allowing herself.

  And nothing more.

  “Come,” he said as they walked through another set of doors when a tour guide called for them.

  Their fingers brushed, causing something hot and charged to ignite through her veins. She was so distracted by her reaction that it took her a second to realize he had bought the Secret Itineraries tour, which allowed them to visit the tiny offices that wrapped around the palace through corridors paved with wooden planks and ceilings so low Sebastian had to bend not to hit his head.

  Excitement flared within her when the guide spoke of the various entrances to the offices hidden behind secret doors set into oil paintings and carved woodwork. With every minute taking in the grandeur and history, Gianna was regretting spending all her time working and not getting out to see more of Venice during her years there. How sad that she’d missed such beauty.

  “This thrills you,” Sebastian whispered.

  She smiled up at him and nodded. “The old world intrigues me. The idea of private secretaries keeping records of accusations made against both the rich and the poor is incredible.”

  “A world you’d want to be part of?”

  “Definitely not. I don’t think I’d survive it.”

  His topaz gaze intensified. “I doona think you give yourself credit.”