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I sprint to Rosie, shrugging my blazer off, and placing it over her. She’s cold and I don’t want anyone else to see her like this.
“Tesoro,” I whisper, gathering her in my arms where she’s safe.
“You came for me.” Her voice is weak and tired.
“I will always find you. In any corner of this damned world, I’ll find you because after this I’m putting a tracker in your arm.”
She tiredly laughs, closing her eyes for a second as she clutches onto my arm. “You have a deal.”
I open the coat, noticing the bruising on her body and her face. They fucking touched her. “Did they…” I swallow as fury boils up my throat. “Did they rape you, Rosie?”
“No,” she shakes her head. “Just roughed me up. I’m not dressed because they checked to see if I was hiding the stone.”
I stand, keeping her in my arms and held against my chest; we’re ready to get the fuck out of here.
“How is she?” Matias asks when I climb up the steps.
“Fine. She’s safe. Let’s go.”
I bypass Zander on the way out and set her in the car. She’s already asleep by the time I close the door.
I dig into my pocket and hold out the diamond for Zander. “I’ll go into business with you on one condition,” I offer.
“Name it.” He stares at the stone and licks his lips, practically frothing at the mouth for it.
“I’ll pay you for this stone if you turn it into a one-of-a-kind engagement ring. I’m assuming you’re a jeweler since you like stones so much.”
“You’d guess right,” he says, sighing. “Deal, but I’ll need it for a few months. I’m a busy man.”
“That’s fine. Take it and go.”
“I look forward to our future together, Mr. Milazzo.”
The only future I care about is the one I have with Mrs. Milazzo. I’m never letting her out of my sight again.
Chapter Thirty-One
Rosie
It’s been one month since I’ve been home, and Ari has fussed about my well-being every single day. He’s driving me crazy with his attention and I know he means well, but he has barely touched me. He’s so concerned with hurting me that he doesn’t realize that he is the one doing the hurting now.
I want my husband back.
What happened was terrible and my bruises have finally faded, yet he still won’t touch me. All I want him to do is claim me, to make me his, to hold me. He seems to see me as glass now, one touch and I’d shatter into a million pieces that are impossible to put back together.
I’m stronger than that.
And to show him I’m better, I’m currently cutting all the laces in his shoes.
When the last of the laces are done, I get rid of my evidence by shoving it in my nightstand drawer along with the scissors. Just in time too because Ari comes out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and my eyes roam down his chest. He missed a few water droplets and I want nothing more than to lick them from his skin.
I nibble my bottom lip, my eyes stopping at the large bulge under his towel. Even flaccid, he’s impressive. It lies against his thigh, the ridge of the crown the most noticeable. No one has any business looking so damn good.
Before he heads to the closet, he kisses me on the cheek, and for some reason, that hurts me more than him ignoring me. My stomach turns from stress or anxiety from thinking that he doesn’t want me anymore. Maybe my time with Bianchi made him want me less? I sprint to the bathroom and shut the door, locking it so I can be alone. I barely make it to the toilet before I’m heaving up my breakfast.
I groan, flushing it so I don’t have to look at it. I push myself to my feet and brush my teeth, then remember that I’m late for my period.
“Tesoro, are you okay?” Ari asks from behind the door.
