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And yet, I want to mean everything.
“You can’t possibly be with me every second of every day. Besides, what happened tobarely married?”
“You’re the one that assigned us that title. I’m tired of using it.” His warm, minty breath washes over me, devoid of any scent of alcohol for the first time since I’ve known him. “And it never meant I’d allow you to fuck men behind my back, especially one of my own. You still belong to me.”
Defiance bubbles within me. “Does that mean you stopped sleeping with strippers?”
His jaw ticks. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do. You’re just surprised I know about it. Siena, is it? Does she have bigger tits than me? Her mouth sharper, hair brighter?” I lean forward, closing the distance between our chests. His heaves at the contact, nostrils dancing. “Pussy tighter?”
I can feel the resistance thinning, can sense the moment the band bundling his control starts to snap. His hands slide down my jaw, one slipping over my shoulder and skidding along my spine, the other locking around my throat, barely robbing me of air.
Just the way I like it.
The way that makes me forget anyone else ever hurt me.
“There’s no pussy tighter than yours,mio amore.No mouth that gets my cock harder than the one attached to your beautiful little body.” He bends his head, teeth nipping at my earlobe.
My pulse skyrockets and my heart thrashes against my ribcage. We’re standing in the middle of downtown, engaged in a seemingly passionate embrace, not a care as to who might see.
Which, I suppose, for a still-newlywed couple, public displays of affection might be expected. But no one else knows the truth, that our coupling is a war, a fight for power—one that can only end in bloodshed.
“You should be careful what secrets you reveal to me,carina,” Elia whispers into my ear, lips grazing my skin. “Every kernel of information you give that isn’t public knowledge puts your little lover in danger. I’d hate to have to murder your cousin.”
I swallow over the knot in my throat, refusing to acknowledge that Luca’s not my lover. He didn’t deny Siena, so why should I give him any satisfaction? “If you kill him, I won’t forgive you.”
“Baby.” Straightening to his full height, he grips around my waist and pulls my pelvis into him, the length of his erection pressing into my stomach, making me dizzy with desire. It’s hard to focus on his words. “I don’t need your forgiveness. Don’t want it. All I want is your goddamn surrender.”
My body curls into his, my fingers splaying themselves on the hard plane of his chest. I give him my most saccharine smile, the one I reserve for times of desperation. “You won’t get it.”
His lips spread, revealing his straight teeth, blinding against the sun. “Oh, we’ll see about that.”
The hand on my throat loops around my waist, linking with the other just above the curve of my ass. Without warning, he dips, pressing his shoulder into my stomach and flinging me over it. I squeal as he walks the way we just came, trying to get a grip on the skirt of my dress to maintain a shred of modesty considering the crowd we’ve suddenly amassed.
“Oh, my God, you’re an asshole.” I smack at his back, unwilling to acknowledge the tight muscles working there.
“Speaking of assholes, yours is probably showing, so I suggest you stop fighting.”
“I hate you.” I mumble the words into his back, so softly, I almost don’t even hear them myself.
But I certainly hear his response. “You just wish you did.”
Mortification flushes my skin, and when he sets me down, I can tell he isn’t expecting continued retaliation.
I get it. I’m not much of a fighter; for the last decade, I’ve laid down and taken every beating, all the abuse, as it was given. No contest—to keep my sister safe, to keep our family, however secretly broken, intact.
A sad, delusional form of self-preservation I’m no longer leaning into.
So, instead of letting Elia shove me into the car for the second time in our short marriage when his arms snake around me and begin to lift, I channel each lesson of defense Luca taught me last year and throw my body weight into him.
My elbow connects with the side of his jaw at the same time my knee collides with his groin, eliciting a satisfying grunt from his mouth. My joints throb, agony spreading like an oil spill, but I carry through, ensuring the hits have as much power behind them as possible.
His sunglasses fall to the ground, breaking on impact. He doubles over, nearly taking a knee, a mixture of shock and utter rage lighting his features. I don’t stop to consider the way his pupils seem to dilate ten times their normal size, or for Benito—who I just know is behind the wheel of the SUV—to come out and grab me.
Instead, I whirl on my heel and take off, my feet pounding along the sidewalk to the rapid beat of my heart.
There are no stolen glances over my shoulder. No pause to consider that I’ve just assaulted my husband, a very dangerous and powerful criminal.
