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I can’t stop my lips from lifting into a smirk. “Nah, I’m good.”
Peppermint moves away from me, toward the couch, but doesn’t sit down. “I don’t smell coffee.”
“I haven’t had a chance to make any.”
I walk to the kitchen and ignore the fact that she sidesteps when I pass her. What I can’t ignore is the way she watches my every move. Her stare is like a physical touch scorching my skin. As much as I tell myself that it’s just her being wary, my dick doesn’t get the memo and stands at attention.
“Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but why are you here?”
Peppermint takes the mug I hold out to her and moves to sit at the island that separates the kitchen and living spaces. She blows on her coffee to cool it down, and my cock jerks at how her lips are pursed.
Fuck, those lips would feel good wrapped aro—
“I’m, uh…” She takes several deep breaths and a sip of coffee. “I’m sorry about that,” she says, nodding at my chest.
I shrug as if getting sliced open by the love of your life is no big deal. “I’ve had worse.”
“Yeah, I saw.”
I narrow my eyes, wondering what she’s talking about, and it dawns on me. When I was at the door, she was behind me. She saw the whip scars.
“Angelo Ricci was a hard man.”
“Your father was a sadistic bastard who needed to inflict pain in order to feel powerful, in order to assert his dominance.”
The way she averts her eyes tells me more than she probably realizes. Yanni and Nicholi—and me if I’m being honest—aren’t the only ones who hurt her all those years ago.
“You speak from experience.”
I’m stating the obvious, but she needs to know that I hear what she’s not saying. I see what she’s trying like hell not to show me. Trauma recognizes trauma.
Rather than risk giving anything more away, Peppermint quietly sips her coffee. The silence stretches, and when it becomes deafening, I have no other choice but to break it.
“I’m sorry I triggered you.” The words are inadequate, but they’re all I have.
Peppermint’s expression hardens. She’s anchoring her defenses, barricading herself behind brick walls. I let her, knowing that I’ll keep chipping away, brick by brick, until there’s nothing left to stop me from making her mine.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” I ask, genuinely curious.
Peppermint slides her mug across the counter and rises from the stool. I watch as she paces, back and forth, back and forth, her boots thudding on the hardwood. She opens and closes her mouth several times as if she’s going to answer, but nothing comes out.
“Why me?” she finally cries, stopping in front of me.
There are so many things she can be referring to, so I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
“Because you are everything that is perfect in this world.” I reach out to touch her cheek, but she backs away. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I sigh. “Your strength is unparalleled. You’re smart, funny, determined, and you’re beautiful. So fucking beautiful.”
“You forgot stubborn, short-tempered, and carrying around a shit load of baggage and rage.” She snaps her fingers. “Oh, and great with a blade.” I laugh at that but quickly sober when she glares at me. “But that’s not what I meant.”
“I’m not following.”
“Why me?” she repeats, throwing her hands up. “Why was I taken? What was it that made me a target for your family?”
My heart stutters at the utter heartbreak in her tone. Instinct has me moving forward, but fear pulls her away.
“You existed,” I say simply. “You were born into a world where evil lurks around every corner. Your only flaw is that you don’t have any flaws.” She snorts at that. “You exist,cuore mio,and for my family, that was enough.”
She stares at me like she’s searching for some hidden meaning in my words, but she won’t find any. My family, and those who supported them, was atrocious. I come from a toxic bloodline.
