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“There are seven other televisions in this house, Russo.” Another tug on my ponytail, but this time he pulled it all the way back so I was looking at him upside down. His eyes narrowed. “I’m beginning to wonder if this Sweet Abelli even exists.”
“Don’t you look as beautiful as always,” he told me, giving me a kiss on each cheek and lingering too long. “Demasiado hermosa para las palabras.”
lamented. “I used to worry like you, you know. Do you know what it got me? Not a thing. Do not waste your time on things you cannot change.”
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The kind of laugh the walls don’t forget.
I didn’t know how long we sat in the same room, in silence, not far apart. Time wasn’t a factor. The moment was recorded each time he shifted, looked up from his phone, took a drink, glanced my way when I’d flip a page or brush my hair off my shoulders.
“Car. Now, Elena,” I’d never disliked anything more.
She was supposed to be wallpaper, but I couldn’t stop my gaze from finding her whenever she was in the room.
“Which hand did he use?”
“The girl that just came in here?” I gave my head a shake. “Wrong girl, David.” Gas splashed a shelf of postcards.
“We’re going to a pool party.” After a moment, he said, “Tyler Whitmore’s, I imagine.” “Yeah—” I froze. I knew this interaction was going over too smoothly. “Why do you know his last name?”
I opened my mouth to say something—something about how much I disliked him—but before I could work out my thoughts into coherent words, he told me, “Maybe rethink what you’re about to say.”
“From what I’ve learned, kissing is platonic these days. Reaching up your dress can’t be much worse.” My stomach fluttered. “You’re not reaching up my dress.” “Three seconds, Elena.” His
Non può provare il dolce chi prima non ha provato l'amaro.
His gaze sparked. “Stay away from him.”
“Hit a woman in front of me and you won’t be alive to do it again,” Nico growled.
“Why are you staring at me?” One heartbeat. Two. His voice was rough and his gaze was steady when he said, “Maybe I want to.”
He didn’t look at me, but a sly smile tugged at his lips. “Come a little closer and say that.”
“Can I ask for something?” “Shoot,” he drawled against my neck. I said it before I could stop myself. “I want Isabel gone.” His lips traced my ear, and seconds passed as I held my breath. “Done.”
I didn’t know what to do with this woman, but I did know I was keeping her.
She smiled. “So honest.” “Always.”
Her gaze came to mine, a little crease between her brows. Damn, she was too beautiful. It fucking hurt to look at her.
“Nico, we don’t know each other . . . I don’t even know your middle name.” “Angelo. Now, go upstairs and get ready. We leave in an hour.”
“I want my wedding, Nico.” His rough palm brushed my face. “Then it’s yours. But you’ll be Elena Russo today, no later.”
I loved the fucking woman. And now my biggest weakness walked outside my body, with soft brown eyes and long black hair.
“You don’t know,” he growled. “I can’t stay away from you for more than a fucking day and you can run off without a second thought.” I shook my head, but his grip slid to my chin and stopped me. “You. Don’t. Know.”
“You’re enough for me.”
