Achilles’ jaw ticks. “She’s not your cousin?—”
“Close e-fucking-nough,” Damiano spits, stepping between Achilles and me. “I can promise you, if you take one more steptoward her, I’m going to paint the front steps of this house with the contents of your skull.”
“He won’t be the only one, motherfucker.”
I glance behind me and see my cousin Theo walking down the steps with Vincenzo and Jude—Theo with a golf club in his hands, Cenzo slipping on brass knuckles, and Jude smiling in maniacal excitement as he twirls a fucking chef’s knife.
Achillesstillisn’t looking anywhere but straight at me.
“We need to talk,” he growls. “Alone?—”
“Just try it, Golden Boy,” Vincenzo snarls, flexing his fist with the brass knuckles.
“Look at me, little prey,” Achilles murmurs, tugging my attention back to him. “Youknowthere’s more to what you just saw than how it looks on the surface. Let's talk, and I'll show you what I?—”
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
The words taste like poison as they drop from my mouth. I feel numb. Cold. Empty. Broken.
I stare at him with unblinking eyes.
“I don’twantyou to explain, or show me. Not right now.”
Our eyes lock, the rippling black fire in his gaze sending a shiver down my spine.
“I…I need some time,” I say hoarsely.
Achilles’ jaw clenches. “This isn’t over, baby.”
“You call her that one more fucking time, asshole,” Theo growls, pushing past me and brandishing the golf club, “and I’ll spill your fucking blood?—”
“Theo.”
I can’t do this right now. Not the posse protecting me. Not the showdown. None of it.
I need to be alone with my thoughts, so I can decide if I’m insane or not.
Because right now, even though every cell in my body is screaming at me to hate the man standing in front of me?
I can’t.
Not even a little.
And that terrifies me.
I turn and shake my head at Theo, Jude, Vincenzo and Damiano.
“Can we have a minute alone?” I say softly. "Please?"
Damiano glances at Achilles, then me.
“We’ll be on the porch. That's as alone as you get to be with him right now.”
I watch the three of them walk up the stairs, still glaring death at Achilles, then I turn back to him.
His dark eyes search mine. “I need you to know?—”
“All I know,” I choke, my voice hoarse and my eyes blurring with tears, “is that I can’t be around you right now. I’m not myself around?—”
