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***

happens so fast that I still find it hard to believe.

We're standing there, staring at each other, the elaborate lie we've created evaporating in the air between us. I know something bad is going to happen. I just don't know what.

Maybe, at this point, I should slam the door, locking it tightly and calling the police. Or maybe I could kick him hard, running past him and far away, out of sight. If I could one day look back at this moment, I would realize that there were so many options, any of which could have prevented what came next.

But I don't do any of them. Instead, I just stand there numbly, staring at that impossibly handsome face. He studies me, almost like a wild animal might before capturing its prey.

Those dark, glittering eyes glint as they meet mine, holding a challenge, a promise. It's terrifying, yet somehow, I can't tear my eyes away. I'm enraptured.

His gaze holds mine like a spell—like a dangerous, delirious kind of magic. I swallow, my heart racing, my head filling with panic and confusion and anticipation and an inexplicable, unidentifiable hunger. Damn it he's gorgeous.

Everything about him is perfect. There he is, after I just finished discovering he's a cold-blooded, murdering drug lord or something, and all I can do is stare, completely fixated.

Irrationally, I want to reach out and touch him. The thought makes me cringe, and, as he narrows his eyes, I snap out of my frightening trance. "Nero," I begin, my voice full of excuses, "I—"

In less than a second his hand shoots out, grabbing my arm and pushing me, hard, back into my apartment, a loud gasp escaping my lips. Shutting the door with his foot, he spins me around, pressing me forcefully against it, his hands tightly grasping my wrists. His nose is inches from mine, his breath a heavy whisper against my face, our chests almost flush. I close my eyes, shocked and unbelievably frightened about what's coming next.

I hear a deep, reverberating chuckle, so unexpected that my eyes snap open. The dryness in my mouth is almost too much to bear. Staring at him for only a split second, my gaze falls, unable to maintain contact with the intense darkness of his glimmering eyes that stay, shamelessly fixated, on my face.

"Let me go," I insist, my voice raspy yet thankfully firm. It sounds so much more sure and steady that I thought it possibly could.

He shakes his head absently, his eyes not leaving my face for even a second. His proximity makes me dizzy with a mix of fear and exhilaration, my heart beating loudly in my chest.

"Rosalina," he mutters, disappointment and warning filling his voice. I don't try correcting him again; something about the twisted, resonant, unfamiliar way his mouth shapes my name leaves a warm, tingling feeling, low in my gut. "What, exactly, did you hear?"

His eyes have a dangerous glint in them, and I should answer truthfully, immediately. Instead, some part of me is defiant, outraged. I haven't done anything wrong. He is the criminal, not me. My eyes meet his once more, my own challenge brewing.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I raise a brow, daring him to contradict me. "I had my headphones in for the last hour."

His eyes narrow as he scans my face, and I can tell that his surprise is growing. "What do you think, dolcezza, happens to people who lie to me?" He arcs a brown eyebrow.

"Why do you think I'm lying?" I fill my voice with an exaggerated innocence, hoping that somehow I can charm him into leaving me alone. My bunny slippers aren't doing me any favours.

He chuckles, rough and low. "Don't play games with me, carina. You'll lose."

The sureness of his voice alarms me, the same way his Italian endearments make my face hot. "Please leave me alone, Nero." I search his eyes for some form of sympathy, willing him to understand that I mean no harm. I find nothing except amusement, and something else, darker.

A small laugh escapes his perfect lips. "Gioia, there's no way in hell I can leave you alone now. You picked the wrong apartment." The unfairness of it seems to amuse him.

At this point, I'm tired of all of it. I just want him to leave me alone, so that I can forget everything. Except... how can I possibly forget the fact that my next door neighbour does horrible, horrible things to other people? I can't, and I'm sure he knows it.

"What do I have to do for you to leave me alone? I don't want to be a part of any of this!" Immediately, I regret the offer. The look he gives me, dark and suggestive, tells me that he can think of a number of things he wants from me.

It should make me sick, but instead I feel strangely intrigued. Some stupid, messed-up part of my brain tells me that I would enjoy it, whatever it is. I banish those thoughts as fast as they come.

"Who did you tell?" His voice is soft yet menacing.

I stumble over my words, not knowing if he'll believe me. "No one! I promise, I didn't tell anyone. I didn't get the chance." Because I was too much of a cowardly idiot.

He doesn't believe me, I know it immediately. "Who did you tell, carina? I won't ask again." His voice is dangerously low.

I shake my head frantically. "Nero, I promise, I didn't tell anybody. I was going to but then I didn't know if...." I look imploringly at him, willing him to understand.

After narrowing his eyes, his face softens. I let out a small gasp as he lets go of my wrist and brings a hand up to my chin, forcing me to look up at him. His lips are so incredibly close. My heart races. Shit.

"Rosalina," he says quietly, his warm breath brushing my face. His voice sounds so gentle. "If I ever find out that you lied to me about this, I will have Angelo slit your throat."

I inhale a sharp breath of air, my eyes widening to the size of saucers. He did not just say that. He did not just threaten, his words cold and still, to murder me.

I try tugging my chin from his warm, slender fingers, but he holds on tight, bringing my face so close to his that our noses almost touch. "Am I understood?"

Too alarmed to think, I nod mutely. I want him gone. My eyes, in a stunning act of betrayal, float down to his lips, which are still so close to mine. I rest a hand against his hard chest, trying lamely to push him away. I bite my lip, something fluttering in my stomach.

His lips curve up into a knowing smile. His thumb moves from my chin, brushing against my lips, which part in surprise. The rough pad of his thumb on the soft skin of my mouth sends a spark, deep and delicious, low into my gut. I can do nothing but stare.

Letting out a small chuckle, he brings his mouth close to my ear, almost touching it as he speaks. "As long as you remember this moment, we should have no problems."

And, after a horrifying instant that seems to last forever, he lets go of me completely, turning away without even a second glance. I rub my sore wrists, trying to stand protectively between him and my apartment. I'm too stunned to do anything; I just watch as he opens the door, letting himself out. Just before he leaves he shoots me a dark, promising wink.

It takes me a while to process what happened.

All I know is that my neighbour is most definitely a criminal. I also know that those eyes, those fingers, and that entire body are going to continue to haunt my thoughts, even after he has just threatened to kill me.

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