“Maybe you shouldn’t have. Maybe you should have told him I’m miserable, and that you’re desperate to make me happy. If you make him think your life is in ruins, he’ll believe you’re willing to do whatever it takes to—”
“This was never supposed to have you at the center of it, Blake,” he snaps. “And I don’t fucking like it. Every time he mentioned you, I wanted to shove my gun between his lips and pull the trigger.”
The raw fury in his voice makes the hairs on my arms stand up straight. “He’s just trying to push your buttons.”
“Maybe you’re right. If so, he’s doing a hell of a job of it.” He slams his empty glass on the coffee table, rises to his feet, and walks over to the window. “I keep thinking about how he looked at you at the gala. Like you’re something he wants to own.”
There’s something in his tone that sends a shiver through me. “He liked my dress, that’s all.”
He anchors his palms against the window frame. “A year ago, no man would’ve dared look at you that way. Not if they knew you’re mine. But now, they’re not afraid of me anymore.”
My gaze slides down his body. He’s tense, and his back muscles flex under the fabric of his shirt. I wonder if we both feel caged, albeit in different ways.
He’s not used to being bossed around. To not being at the top. He doesn’t have to pretend to be upset about how much he’s lost.
Some force pulls me to my feet. I walk up to him. I want to comfort him, to embrace him, to tell him it will be okay.
But as I reach for him, my hand freezes halfway.
The more closeness I allow between us now, the more he’ll be hurt when I leave.
I don’t want to hurt him, but I can’t stay in this world with him. I’m afraid of what will happen to me if do. My mother betrayed herself over and over again for the sake of a man who lived in the shadows, and I had a front row seat to her heartbreak and pain. And it didn’t even end after my father died, because then Uncle Lyle started knocking on our door and dragging us back into the darkness.
I refuse to let history repeat itself.
There is no happiness for those who love criminals, and it would be naïve to think that I could be the exception to that rule.
Nero will miss me when I’m gone—for a bit at least—but being made capo will soften the blow.
It won’t take him long to find someone else to keep by his side. After all, he’s never had trouble with that.
I drop my hand back down. “This is temporary,” I say softly. “You can’t let Maksim get to you.”
Nero whips around to face me. “He wants you,” he growls, his eyes flashing with anger and frustration. And then he wraps his fist around the knot holding my robe together. His knuckles press just below my breasts, and he tugs me toward him.
I make a surprised gasp.
“Can’t you see it?” he demands.
“He’s married,” I whisper.
“You think that matters to him?” His eyes drop to my lips, and I feel an unwelcome rush of heat in the pit of my belly.
It drives me crazy how he can still make me feel this way. How one look can send me reeling. How one touch can set me alight.
I fight to keep my voice steady. “How could I forget that men in your line of work are never hindered by things like marriage vows?”
He tugs me even closer, until the hard points of my nipples make contact with his chest. Our close proximity makes my pussy clench.
“You’re putting me in the same category as Maksim?”
I’m not. By now, I know Nero would never cheat on me. He was willing to die for me.
But I need to wedge something between us, something that will push him away. “Do you have to ask why? Have you forgotten the conversation we had at the restaurant? You asked me if I’m okay with you sleeping with other women. If I’d said yes, you would have gone out and done just that.”
His laugh is darkened at the edges. “I know you’re not being serious right now.”
“I am.”
