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She wasn’t a prisoner any longer, yet she wanted to stay with his bastard ass?
You want her, want her to stay because you’re selfish.
“Why the fuck did you stay?” Fury knew he sounded like an asshole now, his voice deep, accusing.
She was silent for a second, but then set the ladle down and ran her hands on the rag she held. This hardened look crossed her face. “Because there isn’t anything for me out there. If I leave and my father finds me, he’ll lock me up because he’s pissed I ran from the family. This is the first time in my life I haven’t felt like I was somewhere where I shouldn’t be.” She shook her head, and he heard her exhale. “Even chained up, because of you I felt … safe.”
It was Fury’s turn to stay silent. “Fuck,” he said and turned from her, bracing a hand on the wall because the room decided to spin something fierce. “Looks like we’re both pretty fucked up, Angelina.” He glanced at her over his shoulder, liking the way her name rolled off his tongue.
She licked her lips. “Yeah, I’d say I was pretty screwed up well before you came along.”
Fury turned around and faced her once more. “You really want to stay?” He lifted a brow and watched her nod. “And you realize what I plan to do to your father once I find him?”
“Kill him?”
Fury let out a gruff sound of agreement.
“Sal was never my father, not really. He never treated me like a daughter—”
“And that means you’re okay that some man wants to fucking kill him?” Fury’s voice was raised because of his annoyance, and the fact his hangover was coming on strong.
She looked down at the ground for several seconds. “My father’s done a lot of bad things.” She lifted her head. “I’m sure there are a lot of men that would like to take him out for killing their loved ones.
I ran for a reason, because I couldn’t stand the life of knowing my father and brother killed for the sheer sport of it or if someone looked at them the wrong way.”
The pain in her voice struck him in the heart, and it was a weird fucking feeling. Fury didn’t give a shit about a female’s feelings, or at least he never had before. But seeing Angelina like this, and hearing her upset over her family, pissed him off and made him homicidal.
He wanted to go out and hurt the person that had made her feel this way.
And I will. Her father will be just as dead as her fucking brother.
19
They sat in silence at the table in the kitchen, the pasta sitting uneaten in front of Angelina. She wasn’t hungry, and she’d only made dinner to keep herself busy and have her mind on other things.
Looking up at Fury, she saw him chowing down, and amusement filled her despite the situation. Even after the initial shock of seeing him up, and realizing that she had actually stayed despite no longer being chained up, things had still been tense and weird.
Angelina caught him looking at her, the feeling of his gaze like fingers on her body. She couldn’t stop the attraction she felt for him. It had been instant, even if he’d been the “bad guy” at first.
“I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in a long fucking time,” he said in his gruff voice that sent a shiver up her spine.
“It’s just spaghetti and meat sauce.” In her family this meal was pretty standard and easy to make, although there were about a hundred different variations of it.
“It tastes like fucking gold.” He didn’t look at her as he polished off his second helping. Once he finished dinner, he grabbed his beer and took a long drink from it, and she was surprised he was even in the mood for alcohol given the fact he’d been drunk just a few hours before.
“Hair of the dog and all that shit,” he said, and she realized she was staring at him. He lifted up the now empty bottle. “I don’t need to read your mind when what you’re thinking is spread out across your face.”
She smiled, but it was forced, and she knew pretty distant. Angelina pushed her food around, her stomach cramping at the distaste of even wanting to eat it.
“You’re not hungry?” Fury asked, and she looked up from her plate.
“Not really.” Angelina leaned back in the chair.
“You should eat something.” He tipped his chin toward her plate. “No sense letting good food go to waste, and you’ll just be hungry in a couple of hours.”
She could have said something sappy about how he sounded like her father, but it would have been a lie. Her parents hadn’t given a shit about what she ate.
More times than not she’d been in the kitchen eating with the waitstaff anyway.
