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My fucking soldier, kissing my fucking wife.
I don’t move from my spot at the bottom of the stairs, in part because I’m afraid of what I’ll do if I get too close to them, but also because my legs feel like they’re stuck. Rooted in a tar pit, burdened by the scene I just stumbled upon.
Not that I have much room to talk, considering my actions with Siena.
But still. Caroline fooling around with one of my men is a liability. If anyone found out, not only would my credibility be shot, but she’d be in danger.
More so than she already is. Just by marrying me, there’s a target on her back, and it doesn’t help that Kieran and her father are still sniffing around, looking for ways to drag her from me. If they knew we were unfaithful to each other, they’d use it against us.
My immobility has nothing to do with the way my heart spasms when I imagine someone else touching her—nothing to do with how my lungs constrict, how breathing feels like inhaling fire.
Luca, for his part, has the decency to look ashamed.
But it’s not enough. Not for this.
One of my fingers taps along the wrought-iron banister, the dull thud somehow deafening in this house. Neither of them moves or blinks. They keep their eyes trained on me, waiting for the strike.
“When I said to make yourself at home,mio amore, this is hardly what I had in mind.” I aim for humor, trying to rid myself of the vibrant green coloring my vision. “Certainly not with your cousin.”
“Step-cousin,” Luca mutters.
Caroline sucks in a breath, pressing one hand into her stomach as if to steady herself. “Elia, that wasn’t what it looked like.”
“No?” I cut my gaze to Luca, whose shoulders seem to slump forward slightly at her insistence. Sliding my eyes back to my wife, I raise an eyebrow. “What was it, then? Were you, or were you not, making out with a man you’re not in any way married to?”
She swallows, the curve of her neck rippling. “I was, but it’s not—we aren’t—it wasn’t like that. There’s nothing going on here.”
“Interesting.” Pushing off the staircase, I meander further into the kitchen and prop myself against the island. A quick sniff fills my senses with fresh baked goods, nearly sending me back in time to a period of my life I refuse to acknowledge, and I shake my head to collect my thoughts. “Pasini, do you concur with Mrs. Montalto?”
“Harrison.” He drops his chin, tearing his eyes from mine. His voice is so soft; I almost don’t catch the response.
“Excuse me?”
I see Caroline shift forward from the corner of my eye, inching her way in my direction. I’m not sure if she’s wanting to choose sides or get close enough to attempt to incapacitate me, but I have some serious news for her if she brings her tight little body any fucking closer.
My heart swells in my chest as her sweet scent assaults me.Fucking hell, she’s distracting.Behind the seam of my pants, my cock stiffens, coming to life at her proximity.
But I’m on a mission, and Montalto men are nothing without their willpower.
His eyes linger on her—a desperation I recognize all too well stuffed down as far as he can get it. There’s a longing as he watches her, silently pleading. “Caroline, please. Don’t do this.”
Fuck. That.
As I cross the distance between myself and the young soldier, eating up the space like a man starved for violence, flames burn low in my abdomen, clenching around my organs. My heartbeat kicks up, a rapid-fire against my ribcage, making me lightheaded.
Rage clouds my vision and judgment, and before I have a chance to consider the consequences, my fist connects with Luca’s jaw, sending him sprawling onto the ground. Spittle squirts from his lips as he bounces against the floor, hands immediately flying to his face.
I expect a scream, or a gasp, from behind me, but there’s only silence. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, igniting my every nerve ending until all I can see and think and feel ismurder.
Bending down, I grip the roots of his hair and strike his face against the marble before he has a chance to get back up. Blood spurts from his eyebrow as it breaks open, and I can hear the faint crack of his nose as it collides with the floor.
Getting to my feet, I dust off my suit jacket and exhale through my nose, steeling myself against how fucking good this all feels.
My black soul vies for the violence. The corruption.The power.
It’s been so long since I really allowed myself to give in, but now that I have, I’m afraid I might not be able to stop.
My mother is probably rolling in her grave.
