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Dario looks at me, subtly shaking his head again. He doesn’t want to mention the showdown with Fyodor, the attempted assassination. The gunman is in custody, either pretending to be or is insane. He’s telling the police he tried to kill Dario because the barking of his dead dog told him to. I doubt the cops will get anything. Fyodor only sacrifices men he can afford to lose.
“Fine,” I say. “What about you? How’s college?”
“Good. I get to write a poem for my next assignment. I was thinking of doing one about Mom.”
Dario’s hand trembles as he pours himself another drink. He’s been slugging them back tonight, but he was almost murdered. I should give the kid a break.
“That’s an excellent idea,” I say, forcing warmth into my voice, but nottoomuch. I never want Emma to think she has to compare herself to Angelica. I never want her to believe she’s lesser somehow.
“Would you read the first draft, Dad?” Rosa asks. “Let me know what you think?”
I’ve done a terrible thing, letting this go on for so long. I don’t understand how I can explain to my daughter that I never loved her mother. I’ve got a goddamn shrine in my house. I thought it was good for Rosa. It was another way to cherish her mother’s memory, and there was the mob business. Initially, I could use Angelica’s death as a tool to gain power.They assassinated my wife, the mother of my child.
Dario pushes back in his chair, his face pale. He looks like he’s going to be sick. “E-excuse me.” He runs from the room.
Rosa frowns, watching him go. “Do you think we should check on him?”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” I say.
“Dad, he might be ill. I’m going to check.”
Oh, God, no. This is the worst thing she could do. She stands and leaves the room, her footsteps receding to the other side of the apartment. I look at Emma, and she looks at me. We devour each other in the space of seconds, silently.
Then, without even deciding to, I’m leaning across the table. So is she. We meet in the middle, collapsing into the kiss like we’re starving, and we finally get to eat. There’s so much passion in her kiss, so much hunger. Surely, this means she can’t be too freaked out about what I told her.
“Do you remember what I said?” I breathe frantically between kisses. “You’re mine. You belong to me. Every part, Emma. You and me, forever.”
CHAPTERNINETEEN
Emma
He moves his chair up to the table, getting close enough to grab my leg, the shimmers dancing up my thigh, teasing at my sex.
“You look so damn perfect in that dress,” he says huskily, then kisses me again.
“F-forever?” I whisper.
He smirks, his face close to mine. Every breath causes warm air to tease across my cheeks.
“I shouldn’t be saying any of this.” He squeezes my leg even more possessively. “But when I saw you, I knew it right away. I knew you weremine, Emma. You’ll be my woman forever—just me and you, nobody else. You’remyvirgin. If another man ever touches you, I’ll kill him. Your curvy, young body was made for me. To givemechildren.”
“Children?” I whisper, heart pounding, tears touching my eyes.
They’re tears of pure emotion, the conflict clashing inside me, telling me this is too good to be true.
“Do you want it?” he growls. “A life together?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
He leans back as if shocked, tilting his head, studying me. “I’m talking about having children together. A family. A marriage. I’m talking about looking at youonceand knowing I want all that.”
I return his gaze bravely, I hope. “I felt the same. So don’t act like you’re super weird because of it, okay?”
His smirk melts into a smile. For a second, I get a preview of what Leo Esposito looks like when he’s unashamedly happy, with none of the darkness of his life returning. This is a big step. Major. Life-changing.
“You mean it,” he says fiercely, not a question.
“I do, and you do, yeah?”
