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“You’re so achingly beautiful,cara.”
I ignore the eruption of butterflies in my stomach. “Do you expect a thank you? I know I’m beautiful.”
He shakes his head, mouth twitching from trying not to smile, while his eyes look at me with sheer contemplation.
“So are many women, but you are beautiful in all the ways that matter.”
Call me curious. “Like?”
“Like beautifully fierce, beautifully strong, beautifully talented.”
That’s the best compliment I’ve ever received, and it came from him. I don’t even know what to say. Too many emotions are crammed inside my throat, making it hard for me to breathe.
As if he understands, he nods and takes my hand in his bigger one. I hold it for no other reason than to prove I am not fazed. But all I can focus on is the pad of his palm, the dips, the long fingers, calloused yet smooth against mine. He leads me outside.
Looking at the men pacing the perimeter, I ask, “Do we always need them around?”
Two security teams flank us. Cato lifts my chin. “They are for you,cara.”
Why does he have to be like this? Almost sweet, almost caring, almost a man I could so easily get lost in. I snap out of my thoughts and climb into the back seat, while he takes the seat next to me and is back on his phone. I hate these moments when we retreat after the burst of passion and emotions. I sigh, not knowing what to make of this anymore. I should want to keep him at a distance, but his lack of attention is worse than the state of my neck.
The car stops, and he gets out and comes back with an elegant bouquet of flowers in shades of pink and creamy white. Even monsters can be decent. Yes, like psychopaths, they learn our ways to make it easier to fool us.
I am losing my mind.
The car comes to a halt in front of the townhouse. I cannot believe the last time I came here, I still had hopes. Now, I only have hopes to survive him unscathed before I escape.
At the front door, his mother hugs him, and it warms my heart the way she gazes at him with so much love. His father pats his shoulder, and then their attention is on me.
“Come in.”
Both of them hug me, and I wonder if they realize I will betray their son without even blinking.
Gulping, I step inside. In the dining room, their mother chastises Dario, who has prosciutto in his mouth and steals another one.
“They’re late,” he says.
“I’m never late,” Cato deadpans, and his brother flips him off when their parents turn their backs. I giggle. I like anyone who stands up to him.
“You should be on my side,” Cato whispers into my neck.
“Oh, are we sensitive?”
He chuckles, and I stomp my heel on his foot and peer over my shoulder at him.
“I’m so sorry.”
He leans in. “You will be.”
Heat courses through my body, a dam of lava bursting as we take our seats at the long, polished wooden table. I take a few sips of wine, and the glass shakes in my hand when I feel his fingers trail up my exposed thigh.
I shoot him a glance, but there is not even a micro expression that would give him away. Meanwhile, I am getting hotter by the second.
“Is everything all right?” his mother asks. I cough, and the bastard laughs at me.
Do not kill him.
“I’m good. It just went down the wrong way.”
