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But I can barely hear him; the blood thumping around my temples is too loud. Before my legs give way, I fall backward into his hard chest, and he claps his strong arms around me like all I wanted was a damn hug.
“Why would he send this to Poppy?”
Donnacha’s chuckle sounds more sinister than ever. “I’d have to give you a whole family history lesson to explain that to you. Long story short? Years ago, her father teamed up with the Bratnovs to try to overthrow us. Clearly, that didn’t fucking work. Maybe they think she’s disloyal to her father by marrying a Quinn.”
The kitchen spins as the realization hits me like a freight train.
This spider, it’s usually facing upright toward your head. Symbolizing that you’re an active fighter, loyal to the people.
But when its head faces down, it signifies that you have left the Bratva. That you are disloyal.
That you are a traitor.
This message isn’t for Lorcan’s wife.
It’s for Donnacha’s.
“Hey.” Donnacha’s voice comes soft and syrupy over my shoulder; his lips trace the curve of my ear. “What’s got you so rattled? You know I’ll handle it.” His hand slides over my hips, disappearing under the fabric stretched over my pubic bone. As he cups my sex possessively, he growls, “I always fucking handle it.”
I wade through shock waves of pleasure as he nips my neck. As his fingers dig deeper into my folds, swirling around my wetness. I can’t enjoy it because my mind is sinking down to the hottest pit of hell, where the flames burn brightest, and the punishments are the cruelest.
Belsky’s message is loud and clear.
If you don’t kill your husband soon, you’re a traitor.
He’ll kill me. He’ll kill Mak.
An involuntary gasp escapes my lips as Donnacha’s thick finger penetrates me, carving a trail through my tunnel. “I’ve had a long, stressful day, sweetheart,” he rasps in my ear. I hear the clink of his belt buckle. The thwap as he slides the leather out of the loops of his jeans. “Now bend over and bite your lip because I’m going to take it out on you.”
The battle between panic and lust rages on through my body, dueling around my blood.
If I kill him, I’ll be taking away the one thing that makes me feel alive.
I’ll also be jumping off a cliff into the abyss and trusting that I’ll be caught by the promises Belsky made me.
And then what happens if he does catch me?
There’s no doubt in my mind that I’d rather be in Donnacha’s hands than his.
Terror rises up my throat; another noise I have to suppress. As he slides the swimsuit off my limp body and flattens his palm against my lower back, I bend over the counter, feeling the ice-cold marble pressing into my curves.
He drags the folded belt down my spine, teasing me. “You’re so fucking perfect, Romy. For all of your sins and all of your flaws and your secrets.” The belt meets the curve of my ass, and he makes it taut against my flesh, hinting at what’s to come. “Even if I never get to hear you sing for me in this lifetime, know that you’re still perfect to me.”
Breezes flutter over my flesh as he brings the belt back.
“Wait,” I rasp.
In the silence, the belt falls lax against my ass.
“Protect me.”
His thighs stiffen against mine. “What?”
I push my face harder into the marble, wishing it’d open up and let me crawl in. “Protect me,” I whimper again.
“What the fuck are you talking about, Romy?” At first, his voice is soft, then it hardens when he adds, “Protect you from what?”
“Belsky. He won’t stop. He’ll never stop. Not until he destroys everything and everyone closest to your family. That includes me now too.”
