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Theo puts his hand up like he's going to touch me. Atlas growls and Theo's hand drops. "I wouldn't lie to you, Lucia."
"You would if Atlas told you to, or one of his brothers."
Theo has the grace to look chagrined. He knows I’m right.
"I didn't tell him to lie."
"You didn't tell him to answer my questions either."
"I was torturing the men I did not kill for information." Atlas holds his body tight, his expression stoic.
He didn't take time to wash up before coming to get me. Because he couldn't wait to see me? Or because he wanted me to see him fully for who he is? He's not hiding anything from me anymore.
This is him as much as the sexy man in a black leather jacket and jeans, or the ruthless enforcer in his custom-tailored designer suit. And he wants me to see, wants me to accept him for who he truly is.
No more secrets. No more hiding behind half-truths.
"Yes, I see the blood of our enemies on you. It doesn't scare me." I lay my hand over his heart. "The only thing that scares me is that you don't love me."
"Uh, that's my cue to leave. Good luck there, boss." Theo grabs something off the back of the sofa and leaves the panic room.
Atlas is staring at me like he's trying to see into my head. "Not love you?" he demands. "What the fuck do you think I have been saying?"
"You say I'm yours. That you will never let me go, which is pretty arrogant, you know?" My hand fists in his shirt.
It's damp. More blood.
"I don't feel arrogant." His arm comes around me, pressing me flush with his big, muscular body.
"You said that our baby makes us a family. Would you have let me go if I wasn't pregnant?" I need to know.
"I told you I wasn't going anywhere before we found out you are pregnant."
True. "You know what you haven’t said a single word about?" I frown up at him. "Loving me."
I am deeply, irrevocably in love with my Greek mafia assassin but don't know if he feels the same. Yes, he's over-the-top protective, but is it about ownership or love?
"What do you think I'm saying when I call youagape mou?"
"You said it can mean darling as well as my love."
"And I told you I'd never called any other womanagape mou. Like I've never called another woman my sun or my lover. You're it for me, my one chance at happiness."
Dio mio. The things he says.
"Are you saying you love me?" I need it spelled out. My heart needs the words, not endearments.
"With everything left of my fractured soul." The emotion in his eyes defies me to disbelieve him.
"There's this quote," I say softly. "We are all broken and that is how the light gets in. I think it's Hemingway. Anyway, if I'm your light then the only way I get into your soul is if it is a little broken."
Pain fills Atlas's expression. "It's more than a little broken. It's shattered."
"Is it? Knowing you love me has brought the pieces of my broken heart back together. What does knowing I love you do for your soul?"
"You love me?"
"What do you think I have been saying?" I use his words back on him.
