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“The cashier groped her,” he said indifferently. “So I burned down his place of business . . . and maybe him.”
“The only acts of violence I’ve committed this week have somehow revolved around you,” he pointed out.
If I ever cursed—really cursed—it would be to describe how handsome he was. It deserved a salacious word, otherwise no one could understand the magnitude of it.
“I swear to God, Elena, if I find out you’ve let some man touch you, I will deliver his hands to you in a box.”
Elena Abelli was my vice, and fuck if I’d let it kill me.
There was a difference between lusting after a man and wanting him to be the father of your children.
“I said I’ll never hurt you, Elena, but if I find out you’ve touched another man, there is nothing in this world that could save him.”
he pulled out his wallet and tossed a black credit card on the counter—“for all that money you spend.”
“There’s nowhere you could go that I couldn’t find you.”
My heart would never be his. It was the one thing in my life that was mine, and I would never sign it over.
I had a bad, bad feeling that if this girl used the word please, I would give her anything she wanted.
I want to be enough for you. I want you to want only me.
He was comfort, security, and need, all in one. It had a name. Home.
I would burn the world for him. He was King of the Cosa Nostra. And he was all mine.
Nico didn’t treat me like glass. He shattered the reflection of an empty life staring back at me. He taught me how to soar.
