Not the slightest bit intimidated by my vicious fight, Rico leans harder against me, leaving not even an ounce of air between us. My squirming comes to a shrieking halt when I feel the heat of his solid cock halfway up my belly. Even with my heart cut open and bleeding, if he mauled me right now, I wouldn’t put up a fight. I'm defenseless to his touch.
The damp mess between my legs eases when Rico stares into my eyes and mutters, “It’s not lipstick, Kitten; it’s blood. The red smears on my shirt are bloodstains.”
I freeze, certain I haven’t heard him right. It's only when I see the truth in his remorseful eyes do I realize my hearing didn’t fail me.
“But you smell like women’s perfume.”
His pupils grow so large they fill his entire cornea. “Our industry doesn’t discriminate between genders.”
I glare at him, knowing he's lying.
“Not when it is handing out punishments.”
My stomach churns as my mind tries to contemplate a way he could get blood on the collar of his perfume-scented shirt in a humane way. Unable to find a reasonable explanation, dread overwhelms me.
“Did you. . .” I can’t force the words out of my mouth. Even my brain agrees that the man who comforted me after my nightmare and has awoken in my bed the past five nights couldn’t be so callous. He would never harm a woman.
“No,” Rico replies sullenly.
I suck in a relieved breath.
It's quickly redrawn when he mutters, "But I didn't stop the man who did."
My heart shatters as tears roll down my cheeks.
Rico releases a deep breath before he rolls off me. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you about my industry. I didn’t want you to look at me differently.”
“I’m not looking at you any different.” My words are weak and pathetic, matching the sluggish beat of my heart.
My slow heart rate gets a boost when I catch sight of his livid gaze. His narrowed eyes call me out on my deceit without a word needing to spill from his lips.
I swallow the lump in my throat before confessing, “I’m not looking at you differently; I just don’t want the darkness to win. This isn’t you, Enrique. My heart knows this isn’t you.”
“You don’t understand, Kitten. I was raised in this lifestyle. I don’t know any better.”
I roll onto my side and glance into his eyes. “Don’t know any better or don’twantto know any better? As those are two completely separate entities. You might have been raised by a monster, but you don’t have to live like one.”
An indecisive storm builds in his eyes. “In this industry, your value is measured by your callousness, not your morality. The more ruthless you are, the more respect you gain.”
“Fear is not respect, Rico. They’re not even close to being the same thing.”
He scrubs his hand over the stubble on his chin. “I know. But I have a reputation to live up to. I'm Vladimir’s son. His firstborn son. That title comes with expectations. Expectations I was filling. I was a terrible man, Kitten. A parodist of my father.” He locks his beautiful eyes with me. “Until I met you. Then I realized what I was craving wasn’t power or respect. It was you. I wanted you.”
Heart hammering, I cup his jaw and peer into his eyes. "You can have me." I scoot closer to him, so our hot pants of breath intermingle. "You just need to fight through the darkness."
A flare of emotion brightens his gaze for the tiniest second before it once again becomes swamped by blackness. My heart slithers into my gut when he pulls away from me, breaking what should have been an unbreakable connection.
“I can’t.”
“Why?” I yell through a sob. “Why can’t you?”
“You don’t understand how things in this industry work, Blaire, so you’re not qualified to pass judgment. This is the only way I can protect you. They know you’re my weakness, and they’re using it against me.”
Fear places a stranglehold on my heart when he mutters, “They’ll kill you the instant I step out of line.”
He scoots up the bed and leans his back on the headboard before running his hand down the side of his face. Just like earlier, his posture is slumped, and he looks genuinely defeated. From his stance alone, I know my concerns about him fading completely into blackness will never reach fruition. A soulless man doesn’t feel regret. They don’t feel anything.
For the first time in over a week, I act on the instincts of both my heart and mind. After pulling Enrique’s hand away from his tired face, I crawl into his lap and stare into his remorseful eyes.
