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I break easy, and I break hard.
Someone not only believes me but thinks I have a right to do what I’ve done.
It happens quickly after that—the cover-up.
Like a switch, I begin to shut it all down.
You don’t need to worry about a thing. I’ll be your fiercest guard.
“There is no being thrown out in this family, Jade. Morettis are for life.”
“Us?” I ask hopefully. “Are we friends now or something?
“You could call us friends,” he says with a lift of his shoulders. “You’d be wrong, though.”
What… what would you call us?”
“Inevitable.”
I release a breath. “Am I that transparent?” He shakes his head. “I like being able to read you.”
“You’re my boyfriend, right?” I ask, pulling out of our kiss and blushing beet red. “I can call you that in my head?” “I’m yours,” he answers immediately, giving me a flood of serotonin straight to my brain. His lips press against my jaw. “You can call me anything you want.” “What do you call me inside of your head?” I ask, biting my lip. “Mine,” he says simply.
“Krasotka means gorgeous.”
My Morozov boys
“Threats disguised as sweet talk,” Thiago hums. “She’s a Moretti, after all.”
She sought me out and claimed me.
