“Tell me.”
Aoibhe twirled, the folds of her red velvet dress peeking from beneath her black cloak.
“This particular policeman has an interesting history. He’s been investigating a robbery at the Uffizi, and he’s taken an interest in the Prince’s pet.”
Ibarra scoffed. “The pet seems very popular. Does it bleed gold and silver?”
Aoibhe laughed, tossing her long, red curls. “No, but once again, there’s more. It seems this officer is looking for William York.”
Ibarra’s dark brows lifted. “The Prince? How is that possible?”
“It seems he’s been involved in the human world, and somehow the policeman has learned his name. Apparently, he’s a suspect.”
“The Prince would never be so careless.”
“Ah, but it’s well known he has a weakness for art. Perhaps he stole from the Gallery.”
“That wouldn’t be enough to give a policeman his name.”
“No.” Aoibhe rubbed at her chin. “That is rather puzzling.”
“And interesting.” Ibarra pulled her close once again, his dark eyes dancing. “Finally, something to our advantage.”
“In what way?”
“In the way in which human beings have always been useful, as a tool for our agenda.”
She pushed him away. “The coup failed. The Curia isn’t coming, and the Princess of Umbria withdrew her troops from our borders. If we are patient, the Prince’s time will elapse, and he’ll weaken. Then we can strike.”
“Aoibhe, I’m not waiting for the Prince to gain his thousand years.”
“I won’t be party to another coup,” she snapped. “I nearly lost my head in the last one.”
“There won’t be a coup.”
Her brown eyes narrowed. “Then how do you suggest we seize the throne?”
“We allow our enemies to dispose of the Prince, and then we take control.”
“What makes you think we’d survive a war with Venice? Or Umbria?”
“Ah, that is the beauty of my plan. We don’t provoke a war. We simply motivate our enemies to assassinate the Prince.”
She flounced across the room. “That was Lorenzo’s strategy. See how successful it was.”
Ibarra straightened his spine. “I am more cunning than Lorenzo.”
“The Prince was made by the Roman. He has his protection. No one will move against him now.”
“Now, perhaps not.” Ibarra smiled. “But with the appropriate tinder…” He gestured upward. “An explosion.”
Aoibhe gazed at him suspiciously. “What are you planning?”
Ibarra’s eyes gleamed. “A bonfire of vanities.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
WILLIAM WAS ALWAYS SERIOUS, always focused. But after the unexpected conversation while he washed her hair, Raven observed a new cast to his movements as he carried her to bed.
His naked body was taut with determination and resolve. He spread himself atop her on the large bed, his forearms bracketing her shoulders.
She looked up into the gray eyes of a panther, assessing and unblinking. The muscles in his chest were hard and unyielding as they grazed against her breasts.
Raven found his silence unnerving. She bit at her lip, waiting for him to speak. But he remained silent.
Without breaking eye contact, his hand found her cheek. His cool fingers danced down the curve of her neck, making her body shiver.
Then he touched her breasts.
William’s movements were unhurried, a contrast to the hunger in his eyes.
He continued to stare as his hand cupped her full breast, his thumb passing over her nipple, feather light. He repeated the motion several times before moving to the other breast.
Raven sighed as he teased, her excitement heightened by the way his eyes remained fixed on hers. He watched her, reading her, anticipating every reaction.
Her skin bloomed with heat, despite the coolness of his touch.
His palm slid down her curves from breasts to hips, smoothing over her abdomen and drifting down, down to the apex of her thighs.
William shifted his weight, withdrawing his hips so he could kneel between her legs. But still, his glittering eyes remained focused on hers.
He placed his hands on her thighs and pressed, separating her legs. His hand slipped to where she desired him most, his touch prompting her to slide closer to him.
He traced, he tempted, he teased.
Raven closed her eyes as his fingertips skated between her legs. With a growl, he cupped the back of her head.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
She opened her eyes, but before she could speak, he claimed her mouth.
William’s kiss was firm. It made promises and exacted them in return. All the while, his fingers danced between her legs.
Raven panted.
He gazed down into her eyes as he maintained his pace, his touch slow and even.
Raven gasped as she felt the orgasm build and finally seize her.
William continued his ministrations until Raven jerked backward.
“Too sensitive,” she murmured.
He kissed her, his tongue sliding against hers as he shifted atop her once again.
He pulled her knees so they pressed into his sides. The tip of him brushed against her entrance.
Raven gripped his shoulders as he filled her.
Once he was seated inside her, William refrained from moving. Instead, he caressed her face and traced the fullness of her lips, made damp by his mouth.
An exhale escaped him, the gentle waft of breath against Raven’s skin a studied contrast to his glittery, impatient eyes.