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“It was hardly a forest, Evelina. We’re in Chicago. Were there trees? Yeah. But there are subdivisions just beyond them. Relax. You clearly made it out.” I gesture to her. “You’re here.”
Her jaw drops, and fire ignites in her stare as she narrows her eyes on me and sits forward, more than likely without thinking she’s only giving in to me.
“Relax? Relax, Niccolò? That’s fucking rich coming from you. How about anI’m sorry? Sorry, Evelina, for leaving you stranded. Sorry you married a fucking sociopath. Sorry you’ve been locked away for the last four months byyourfather.” She huffs out a breath, and even I can tell she knows she’s being unreasonable.
I try smirking. I want to gauge her reaction. It’s not something I enjoy doing. Not something I have a need to do often, but as the corners of my lips tilt upward, I watch her shoulders lower.
“Technically, only one of the three things was my fault,” I say, and she leans back in her chair forcefully, staring up at the dim lights overhead, “and I don’t apologize for things that aren’t my doing.” I shrug. “Seems as if you may need a favor again, and you really fucking suck at asking for help.”
I let my words marinate as she shakes her head. It’s true. The woman doesn’t know how to ask for help.
Evelina takes a sip from her glass of ice water and then sighs.
“Funny,” she says with mock enthusiasm. “I think I’ve been told that before. Are you planning on letting me go, or am I going to be locked up in this shithole now?”
I swear I almost see her smile.
Like maybe she could handle being locked up here if she were with me…?
I fake think about her question.
I sing fucking “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” in my head two times.
I just wanna make Evelina Greco squirm.
Just want her to tell me I’m a piece of shit. Tell me to fuck off.
Make my fucking day.
She may be my obsession, but I’m a sick bastard who gets pleasure from something so fucking beautiful unraveling.
“You don’t have to stay here if you agree to letting me protect you. Agree to be my wife, and you have a deal, Ms.Greco,” I tell her as simply as I can and then watch as her face shifts.
Eyebrows knit. Scowl forms. Fucking plump lips part as she gasps, as if marrying me is the worst fucking sentence a woman could get.
She blinks a few times while she struggles to gain control over those delicate features of hers, and then, without warning, she says, “Not a chance in hell.”
20
EVELINA
He’s going to be the death of me.
NiccolòfuckingAmato.
Even my bones know I’ve met my match when it comes to him…and I don’t like it.
All right, maybe I like it, but I don’twantto like it, and I certainly refuse to let him know I like it. I want nothing to do with these men. Want nothing to do with their bullshit lies or their mafia fucking ties. I’d rather never feel love again than give a man the advantage to hold something over my head.
Like my sanity—or even worse…my heart.
My heart that I’ve carefully wrapped in barbed wire over the past four months.
I’ve already made too many mistakes with the man in front of me.
Niccolò looks as if I’ve just stuck his own knife into his stomach when I tell him I’d rather die than be his wife.
“You heard me right,” I say, taking a weirdly sick pleasure in how I’ve bruised his ego. “I’d rather die than be married to you and take on the last nameAmato.”
