AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But this almost-white color isn’t practical in the Mafia world. They’d never get the blood out if death were to come calling here, too.
Eventually, I sit up and lean back against the couch. How can I justify bringing a child into this world? How will I ever tell him or her that their father is a monster? A murderer?
At least he acknowledges who and what he is. And at least he does it with purpose—to maintain his empire and keep his family safe.
What’s my excuse? I love him, and as much as I hate who he is and what he stands for, that love has not dissipated.
I thought it would, after what happened tonight.
During the drive here to the marina, I poked and prodded at my feelings, assuming the love would be gone. That I would feel only revulsion and hatred and that the need to get away—to run far and fast—would rear up once again in my thoughts.
The revulsion is there. It sits in my gut, roiling with acid. Human life should not be so little valued. Even though it was clear that Anders was about to kill Rio, and that was a definite case of kill or be killed, that doesn’t explain the others.
I hate what he is with every cell in my body. But the love is still there, despite that. I want him, even now. I want his arms around me. I want his cock deep inside me as we rut and fuck and forget for a few minutes about the horror of what just happened. The horror of living this life.
And Ihatethat I feel this way,morethan I hate him.
What does that make me?
Perhaps I am just as much a monster as he is. More so, maybe, because I wasn’t born to this life. I was raised to have a different set of morals. I should know better.
But youwereborn to this life, Bianca.The traitorous inner voice intrudes and will not go away.
You were born a Mafia princess, and this life is in your blood.
I remember the little white card that the agent Felicity handed me all those weeks ago. I don’t believe she’s FBI. I do think she genuinely works in some kind of law enforcement agency, but I’m not certain which one. Regardless, the card is long gone, torn into tiny pieces and flushed away down the toilet. But I memorized the number before I destroyed the evidence of possible betrayal.
I could call that number right now, if I wanted, before Rio returns. Before more of his staff invade my personal space and take away my ability to do anything without constant scrutiny.
I could save my child from a future of violence and death by making that call. But in doing so, I would condemn my child’s father to a life in prison.
I know what Ishoulddo. But I don’t yet know what Iwilldo.
And in that fact right there, I realize that I am far more monstrous than my crime boss husband ever was or will be.
* * *
Rio
I amuncertain what to expect when I enter the saloon. Will Bianca shoot those judgmental eyes my way? Is she still in shock, unable to process what happened earlier? Has she been tipped over the edge into madness?
The suite is quiet, the saloon empty. I frown and head through into the bedroom. She is lying awake in the middle of the bed, curled up on her side with her arms wrapped around her knees. She has showered—her hair splayed out across the pillows is loose and wet—and donned a thick white robe. Her feet are bare, and she looks younger than usual with her makeup-free face and that sprinkling of freckles across her nose that give her an innocent air.
She is innocent no more. Not after tonight.
Slowly, she turns her head to meet my gaze. No shock remains in her features, nor any sign of madness. She is simply quiet, studying me with an expression I cannot read.
“Will you please shower, Rio? And then join me.”
I take a step closer to the bed, but she holds up a hand.
“No. I need you to shower. Please. Don’t…” Her hand drops down, and her grip around her knees tightens. “Do not come near me until you’ve showered. Scrub yourself. A lot.”
“All right. But we need to talk, Bianca.”
“Yes. We do.”
I want to say more. I want to think of some words that will comfort her. But I don’t know what to say or how to do that. I’ve never comforted anyone before. Never had the need, or the desire.
