Page 70 of His Pet

The old nickname strokes me gentler than his hand ever could. I hated it. Really hated it. It’s dehumanizing. Demeaning. A despicable comparison.

But right now, hearing it from his lips feels good. He knows my name, and he’s willing to say it. This is more than that.

“Don’t call me that,” I can’t help but whisper.

Lorenzo responds by releasing his firm hold on me and pulling me into his lap. I stiffen but he doesn’t seem to care. He runs his knuckles down my arms and then my legs.

“Did you hear anything else?”

That you’re in love with me.

I say nothing. The emotion in my throat won’t allow me to. Or maybe it’s dread that won’t let me.

Because what if he was lying then too? He may not be king of the mob, but he’s the motherfuckingkingof lying.

“I’m sorry I was cold to you this morning… I didn’t know how to explain the situation to you.”

“What situation?” I ask with dry humor.

I meant the question to be rhetorical, but Lorenzo answers anyway.

“I want you to stay with me, but you can’t. It wouldn’t be safe for you.”

He says it like I asked if I could. Defensiveness flares, but it dies when I just can’t keep up the energy anymore. The last shred of my pride falls to the floor and breaks like glass, spilling thousands of tiny shards over the hardwood, never to be put back together again.

I’m in love with the mobster, and I don’t want to leave him. I want to start a new life, but not in Poland. I want to start one in Las Vegas with the guy who has all the scars.

And I’m pretty sure he loves me too.

I sigh and my whole body deflates into him. I lean my head onto his chest and inhale his scent.

A scar peeks through his neckline, and I lift my finger to it. He flinches when I trace the jagged piece of flesh, but he doesn’t stop me.

“How did you get these?” I ask.

He takes my hand and pulls it from his chest. He brings it gently to his face and drags my fingertips along the white, smooth tissue at the tip of his cheek. He closes his eyes and brings my touch along the rest of the scar.

I’m surprised but I try not to show it. Something tells me this is a big deal to him.

“Most of them are from Lucian when he was a cub. He didn’t know any better.”

“Is that what this one is from?” I ask caressing below his eye.

He opens his eyes and nods. “I was asleep, and he wanted my attention. It’s what prompted the chain.”

I nod like I understand anything that goes on in his mind. It seems to me a chain would’ve been a logical thing to have from the beginning. Or better yet, don’t bring a lion to your bed.

I lay my head against his chest and smile. Okay, I might like the crazy.

My smile falls and I tug his shirt collar down, revealing other scars. Not all of them are claw marks. The white ones stand out the most, but some are various shades of pink. My eyes find one that’s a white dot, with another dot matching an inch away.

“What about the others?” I ask.

Lorenzo shrugs. “Lots of things. Bites. Some are from falls. I’ve broken several bones, so there are those. I’ve been stabbed twice.”

“What?” I shout, bringing my face back to look at him. “You’ve been stabbed?”

He raises a brow as if I’m overreacting and nods. “Would be a little strange in my profession if I hadn’t been. I like to do my own dirty work.”

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