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“Sometimes the cheapest things are the most valuable.”
THERE WERE TWO RULES I always followed. Never leave the house without my .45. And never put myself in a position I knew I couldn’t get out of.
“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.” I swallowed. “And I do not. Fucking. Bluff.”
“And why would it be such a bad idea?” I didn’t look at her, but I felt her sad smile. “Because you’ll fall in love with her,” she said. “And she won’t love you back.”
“Lust will be the death of us.”
You can only sink or swim. You can’t swim in the underworld, but I’d always heard drowning was the best way to go.
“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.”
It was eleven a.m. on a Sunday when I realized I wasn’t only attracted to my fiancé. I was, with a madness that ached, completely and utterly infatuated with him.
“Tell me,” Sebastian said, “why did you do it?” A heavy silence took over, and my chest tightened at Nico’s cavalier tone. “He had something I wanted.”
She was mine. And I’d kill anyone who told me otherwise.
He’d taste like whiskey and bad decisions.
And I had a bad, bad feeling that if this girl used the word please, I would give her anything she wanted.
He was comfort, security, and need, all in one. It had a name. Home.
He was an infatuation, a craving, a need, and I was sure it was unrequited. But as my fingers ran down his tie and rested on his chest— Bu-bum. Bu-bum. Bu-bum. His heartbeats raced for me.
I would make this girl want me, need me, love me, because fuck if I was going it alone.
Pressing my cheek against his hand, I whispered, “Elena Russo.” It tasted like hope and happiness. But as the words faded from existence, the slightest aftertaste of heartbreak remained.
He nipped my bottom lip. “You make me fucking crazy.” “Don’t blame me for your psychosis.” “You are my psychosis.”
I promised him everything because of four words. You’re enough for me.
Regardless of what I was born into, I’d always thought of myself as a moral and honest person. Maybe my roots were too deep, or maybe love gave a woman a reason to let her dark colors shine, because I suddenly knew I would lie, cheat, and steal for this man. 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.
“You poor thing, you. Looks like you’re stuck with him for good. Ace might be a cheat at heart, but he always does exactly what he says he’s going to do.”
“Ace, huh?” I nodded lazily. “I’m trying it out.” And from that moment on, I called him Ace whenever I was drunk, Nicolas when I was mad, and Nico all the times in between.
Whiskey and flame. Sleepless nights. Tattooed skin, white t-shirts, and rough hands. Love and lust and happiness. He was everything.
Nico might have been a bad man, but where he lacked in morals, he more than made up for as a husband. He loved me forever.
