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What does she think I'm going to do?
"Criminal." I point to myself. "Remember?"
Her eyes darken with accusation. "How could I forget? You need to leave."
"We need to talk."
"There's nothing left to say. You used sex to get access to me and my club. You used me." Her voice breaks on the last word and more tears track down her face. She swipes at her cheeks angrily. "Just go."
"I'm not leaving you like this." Does she think I'm a monster? Sure I don't want the answer to that question, I don't ask it.
"Why not? You got what you wanted."
"I want you."
"Stop," she shouts hoarsely. "Just stop. No more lies."
"I never lied to you." I left a lot of shit out, but I never flat out lied to her.
"Like hell you didn't."
That voice of hers is killing me. I go into her kitchen, fill the electric kettle and turn it on.
"What are you doing?"
"Making you tea with honey and lemon." It's what my mother gave us when our throats were sore when me and my brothers were kids.
She yanks on my arm, trying to pull me from her kitchen. "I don't need tea. I need you to leave. Now."
I'm a big guy and even though she's furious, she's not shifting my body unless I let her. And I am not leaving her like this. I'm not leaving her at all.
"You are mine to take care of," I explain.
"I am not yours. Not one bit of me." She throws my arm from her and goes to the door. Opening it, she glares at me. "Get out."
"No." I turn back and open the cupboard she keeps her tea in.
I don't want to give her caffeine this late at night, so I grab the ginger tea. After I put a teabag in the mug she keeps out for her morning coffee, I turn back to face her.
Her eyes are puffy and red from crying, but her glare is sharper than my favorite knife.
Shrugging out of my suit jacket, I watch her eyes narrow. I hang it on the back of the chair I sit in when we eat together at her little bistro table. My shoes go next.
"What are you doing? Stop undressing. You aren't staying."
"We already had this discussion," I remind her.
"You refusing to leave is not a discussion."
"You insisting I leave when you are upset isn't one either."
She barks out a laugh. "Are you trying to convince me that you care you hurt me? You knew!"
"I knew what?"
"That you were using me. You knew you planned to steal from me. You knew it would hurt me."
"The protection tithe isn't stealing. We aren't the bratva. There are benefits to being under the protection of theÁdis Adelfótita."
