Storm's Cage by Mary Stone (uplifting novels .TXT) 📕

of Joseph’s hand as he trailed his fingers down her neck. The touch should have been warm, but to Amelia, the sensation was searing. Like he’d coated his fingers with Napalm.

An unbidden image of Luca Passarelli played across her mind.

Luca’s advance had started out the same. He’d backed her up to a wall and traced his fingers down to her throat.

As he’d closed in, he’d whispered all the ways he intended to fuck her if she chose to stay in Chicago. All the degrading sex acts he’d never been able to perform on his wife because she was D’Amato royalty. Acts he’d be more than glad to carry out on the stupid little whore who was sleeping with his son.

With one hand around her neck, Luca had pushed up the hem of her sundress and groped between her legs so hard she’d gotten bruises. He’d told her she was welcome to stay in the city, but she’d be expected to service him whenever he asked—all without alerting his son or wife, of course. If she ever got the bright idea to tell one of them what had happened, he’d do worse than just kill her.

Until he’d dropped her skirt and wrapped his hands around her throat, Amelia had been certain the man intended to rape her.

As she ripped herself from the traumatic memory, she realized she could hear little over the knocking of her heart as it pounded against her rib cage. Little tendrils of blind panic coursed through her veins, and she barely managed to turn her head to the side before Joseph could try to kiss her.

She wanted to close her eyes and wait for Joseph to disappear, but she knew better. She knew he wouldn’t leave.

Pull your shit together and do something…now.

Clenching one hand until her nails bit into the sensitive skin of her palm, she forced herself to step to the side. All her senses were on full alert and registered the sharp pain in her hand, the weight of the handbag on her shoulder, the distant sounds of Chicago’s traffic.

Joseph wasn’t Luca, and Amelia wasn’t the frightened eighteen-year-old girl she’d been back then. She just had to keep herself grounded, to keep her mind from catapulting to the past.

Swallowing the desert on her tongue, Amelia took in a slow, deep breath to steady her already frayed nerves.

If Joseph gets handsy like Luca did, I’ll pull out my service weapon and shoot him in the ass.

A chuckle rumbled up Joseph’s throat as he sidestepped with her and brushed his lips along her cheekbone. “I’m sorry. I should have said something, shouldn’t I?”

Despite the apology, he made no move to put distance between them. If Amelia hadn’t been backed up against the driver’s side of her car, she’d have shimmied out of his grasp. But with one of his hands on her shoulder and the other on her hip, plus the damn car, her options for escape were limited.

Muscles as rigid as a marble sculpture, she held her awkward position as she spoke. “Yeah.” To her surprise, her voice was clear and even. “Back off me now.”

Because I’m not eighteen anymore, and Joseph’s not a fucking mob boss.

Joseph didn’t move, didn’t drop his hands.

Amelia cleared her throat and pressed her hands to his chest, giving him a shove that didn’t push him anywhere. “I’m not interested in this. We work together, and I prefer we keep a professional relationship.” She shoved harder, and he backed up an inch. “I don’t want that to turn awkward because of something like this.”

Squeezing her shoulder, Joseph backed up another inch, but he didn’t let go of her hip. “Come on. We can separate business from pleasure.”

Her neck creaked as she lifted her head to meet his gaze, but she didn’t speak. The aloof tone of his voice was enough to raise the hairs on the back of her neck.

He wasn’t done yet.

His pale eyes bore into hers. “I know you’re going through a lot right now, especially with everything that happened with Alton Dalessio. I can’t imagine what kind of guilt you’ve been carrying around about that. Not guilt that he’s dead, but you know.” He casually shrugged. “Guilt because you had to lie to the Bureau. Or maybe because you know I lied to them too. To protect you.”

The sting of bile rose up the back of her throat.

This couldn’t be happening. Ever since he’d mentioned Alton Dalessio on their first trip to MCC Chicago, Amelia had been paranoid that he’d use the man’s death as leverage to…to what? What did she think he wanted?

How in the hell hadn’t she seen this coming?

She’d been naïve. She’d wanted to believe that, deep down, Joseph was a decent human being. That he wouldn’t blackmail his friend into having sex with him.

But here she was, pinned against a car, while he reminded her of his powerful position…both physically and mentally.

Forcing herself to not kick him in the balls yet, she took a calming breath and sifted through her thoughts to find a response.

If she turned him down now, she risked not just her career but her freedom.

If she didn’t turn him down, she risked so much more…her dignity.

Before she could lift her knee, Joseph stepped away. “Like I said, I can separate work from pleasure, and I’m sure you can too. It’s been a long day, but think about it, okay?”

Tentative relief prickled at the back of her neck as she stood her ground. “Rest assured, it will be difficult to think about anything else.”

Like the asshole he was, he smiled, considering the statement a compliment. He took another step back, and Amelia almost slumped against the side of the car. She didn’t. She stood straight and tall. Joseph’s eyes were glued to her, but without the physical contact, breathing became easier.

He wanted her to think about it. About screwing him. Though the thought made her stomach churn, she forced a measure of calm to her face. “I’m leaving.”

The corner of his