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“I’ve asked myself that question plenty of times.”
“And have you come up with an answer yet?”
“I’ve come up with plenty.”
“Like?”
He reaches out and cups my chin with two fingers. “Because you drive me fucking crazy—in both good and bad ways. Because when I touch you, it’s as though these violent hands of mine find peace, solace for a moment. There’s a deep sense of dread that if something happens to you, I’ll become the sinister man peoplesee me as to avenge your death. I’m a man who loves few, and I have yet to figure out why you fucking consume me.”
I gulp, unsure of how to reply to his words. They weren’t what I had expected. I’d assumed he’d say something along the lines of,Because I like fucking you, or his simple answer of,You’re mine.
Antonio had captured my soul in his dirty hands. Neither of us had planned for this to happen.
And now, we can’t stop it. It’s not like you can tell your heart to just stop loving someone. Our hearts beat for each other. We need the other to survive in this insufferable world we were born into.
“Does that answer your question well enough?” he asks.
I nod, his words seeping into my brain and embedding themselves there.
This is what I’ve always dreamed of.
I wasn’t made for a Prince Charming who sits on a shiny throne with the envisioning of creating world peace. Mine has vendettas, bloody hands, and a black heart only I possess the power to tame.
I’m not destined for a happily ever after.
I wasn’t put on this earth to be a princess.
I’m here to control my villain’s darkness.
“One more question,” I say, my voice hoarse.
He tilts his head to the side.
“You said you’d killfor me. But would you ever kill me?”
He stares at me intently. “Do you plan to do something that’d make me want to kill you?”
My eyes widen, and I refuse to answer.
“Wouldyouever kill me?” he pushes.
“I mean, you are holding me hostage.”
He lifts his hips to drag something from his pocket and slides it on the table toward me.
I gulp, staring down at the wood-handled box cutter. The initialsALare carved into it. He motions toward the cutter, a silent demand, and I take it, playing with it in my hand. I click it open and slide my finger along the edge.
Antonio rises from the chair, snatches my wrist of the hand holding the box cutter, and hoists me up. He doesn’t release me when I’m on two feet. I huff when he pins me against the table, keeping his grip on me, and uses my hand to push the blade against his neck.
“Slit my throat, princess,” he tells me, his windpipe moving under the blade with each word. “Kill your family’s enemy. The man who took you against your will. The one who clearly stated he’ll kill everyone you love if he has to.”
My hand shakes, and when I try to pull it free from his throat, he doesn’t allow it.
I could never harm Antonio, much less kill him.
Even if it’s the smart thing to do.
In an instant, he snatches the cutter from my hand and tosses it on the floor. It lands against the wood with a loudthack. He cups his hands around my waist and settles me on the edge of the table. I bite into my tongue when he flips my skirt up and positions himself between my legs.
