AllFreeNovel
Share Us
His other hand covers mine. “It’s okay, Nicky. I’m right here.”
“It wasn’t her fault. Mom did everything she could to protect me from nonna and my father. Nonna wasn’t allowed to live with us the way she wanted, and Mom didn’t leave me alone with my dad or nonna. If the nanny wasn’t there, or she couldn’t take me, she didn’t go. She had her last miscarriage when I was thirteen. It was really bad. After she got out of the hospital, she went to a mental facility…” I close my eyes.
“I’m embarrassed by how awful I behaved—crying for my mom, begging to go be with her. I deserved my father’s beating. He was upset, too, and I made it harder on him—”
A hand covers my mouth. Stunned, my eyes find him in question. His eyes are closed. I don’t understand why he’s… Is he mad? I blink and find blue eyes churning, threatening to swallow me into nothingness. “You absolutely did not deserve to be beaten by your father for missing your mother who was clearly the only person who cared for you. The only reason your father is breathing is so I could have you without starting a war. If I had known he would get away, I would have torched the city of Chicago to keep him from escaping my punishment. My only regret is I can only kill him once.”
His words are so lethal that for the first time, I’m afraid of him. Seeing my fear, his beautiful face softens with a gentle smile. He presses a kiss to my forehead. “I will never hurt you, sunshine. I promise you that above all else. I would rather swallow a bullet than hurt you. You’re trying my strength in controlling my temper. You don’t deserve pain—ever. Do you understand?”
I nod as I press my lips closed in a poor attempt not to cry. I’m positive I wouldn’t have cried if he hadn’t held me tight while promising no one would ever hurt me again.
And I discover how wrong I am. Loving him makes perfect sense. If I had to list, honestly, the things I wanted in a man, he would fit every one of them. He’s wickedly intelligent, likes to read the same mysteries and thrillers I do, hates television, doesn’t watch many movies, and we even share the same love of music—I think because it was the music my mom listened to.
What surprises me the most is how funny he is. I finally understand the word deadpan, Manuel’s delivery is so straight-faced, I’m convinced he’s serious.
When he breaks and chuckles, I gasp. “How in the hell do you do that?”
Still chuckling. “Do what?”
“I don’t know, be so funny…”
Shaking his head, he raises an eyebrow. “Because I’m supposed to be a mean, scary, bringer of death?”
Is he joking again? All I can do is nod.
His shout of laughter leaves me staring. It’s so unfair he’s ridiculously gorgeous. Once he finally stops laughing, he kisses the tip of my nose. “My beautiful wife, it’s called a persona. A character, if you will. Except it’s not quite a character. Since the only problem I have with killing someone is cleaning up the mess. From a young age, impulse control was what my father worked on the longest with me. I did what I wanted when I wanted and didn’t consider consequences. Learning to stop and think critically of what will happen after I do what I want isn’t always easy. The best way to prevent ever getting to the point to kill is to prevent someone being dumb enough to give me a reason to end them.”
I’m trying to process what he might have done, and if I really want to know, when he continues.
“People don’t fear people, they fear consequences. While everyone is aware the consequence of crossing me and my family is death, it’s a rumor. There’s no proof, it’s an intangible, a maybe. Like winning the lottery—you see people do it, but for it to be you is a chance so small most people don’t play.” His face turns to stone, his eyes dead, and his already deep voice drops an octave. “I’m the proof.”
I understand the fear he inspires in people. “Do you remember Fat Tony? He was a soldier for my dad before he got killed. Every time someone said your name he would cross himself. Do you like it?”
There’s something in the way a smile is playing on his beautifully molded mouth at my words. He laughs loud. When he sobers, the scary man is gone. In his place is an indulgent, caring husband—the persona has changed.
“I enjoy the ego stroke of people fearing me. Fear in our world equals power. Since the only thing I care about is my ego, to be the scariest fucker in a world crawling with men you would think were actual demons from the depths of hell if I believed in the whole heaven and hell thing. Years ago, I struggled with wanting everyone to know how scary I was. A small part of me hungry for recognition. Yet it wasn’t possible. We maintain our power by people not being aware of who we—I am—and just how much power we have. The minute someone else knows, they become a competitor and work to bring you down. For all of us, our safety comes before my ego.”
I decide I don’t want to know what he did in the past.
He shrugs. “I also hate small talk and constantly observing someone to ensure I’m behaving ‘normally’ when I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks of me. The character I am doesn’t invite discussion or an offer to get a beer.”
The question is out before I can stop it. “How old were you when you figured out you were different?”
“I was ten. Up until then, my mother was our primary parent. We lived with her in Paris, seeing my father every six or eight weeks for a week or two when he came to visit. My grandfather was diagnosed with cancer, and my father believed it was time to begin our education. From then on, we no longer went to a regular school. We had a tutor or whatever for several hours a day so we could travel with him wherever he went. I’d done the normal shit people like me do with it all being brushed aside. However, once my father saw me every day, he noticed I was different. The tutor figured it out too.” His jaw works. “Together, they adjusted my education.”
“For good or bad?” Something in his tone sends a shiver through me.
“For good. There were… hints I was different. But only in how people reacted to me. I discovered my father was creating an environment to protect people from me. The idea of him thinking people needed protection at first angered me then brought home how dangerous he believed I was. I spent every spare minute reading everything I could find on it. Then I moved onto figuring out how to mimic emotions to fit in.”
I can’t help thinking it hurt him that his father felt the need to protect others from him. Over the long hours, he shares enough I figure out he preferred to be alone so he didn’t have to guard himself around others. The man who stood over me with his hand in my hair, forcing his cock into my mouth was the persona. The man who takes me to heaven again and again is funny, sweet, gentle, thoughtful, a man who any woman would fall in love with easily is the real him. While the scary man disappears, the aura of power and control never does. And if I’m truly honest with myself, it’s what I want.
Dating Josh, I resented the way he left everything to me. I was the one who planned our dates and time together. If I didn’t, we wouldn’t do anything. I once went two weeks without seeing him in the beginning of our relationship because I was waiting on him to call me.
Manuel takes care of me in every way—down to feeding me the veggies he’s adamant I eat with every meal. As much as the tiny feminist in me bristles to find he had final approval on not only my wedding dress but the clothes arriving the day after tomorrow to ensure they weren’t too sexy, deep down I love how he says no one is allowed to see me and want me. The better to prevent someone’s death.
CHAPTER14
Nicolette
