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“I don’t know how to cook,” I blurted, before looking at Nicolas, who still leaned against the wall, his hands in his pockets. “I have one,” was all he said in a deep, thoughtful voice. I had a feeling he didn’t entirely want this marriage either, so why had he agreed to it? “I like to shop. I spend way too much money.” It was true, but I also donated to the local shelters just so I wouldn’t feel so bad about my spendthrift ways. So I guessed that meant I spent even more. “I have it.”
“Lust will be the death of us.” —Unknown
I would kiss whoever killed him.
Well, you just avoided a kiss from him
“I’m not going to hurt you.” He said that now, but I’d heard stories of how a don dealt with a thief. “That much I can promise you, Elena.”
“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.”
Giggling and kicking my feet
Nico opened the back door, but then paused. “Elena?” “Yeah?” “Burn that shirt.” He then left without another word. I glanced down at my pink Yankees t-shirt. I guessed Nico was a Red Sox fan. We really wouldn’t work out now.
Because innocent or not, if that man wasn’t dead and he crossed my path, his lifeless body would be unrecognizable.
“How do you feel about pink?” I breathed. One of his hands slid to my waist, searing my skin through the pink scalloped dress I wore. “Never thought about it before,” he drawled, “but I think I like it.” Warmth ran to my cheeks. “Good,” I supplied. “Because you’ll be wearing a pink tie.” He let out a breath of amusement. “I don’t mind, but it will probably annoy Luca.
I love Nico
“You don’t have a coffeemaker,” was all I could think to say. “I don’t drink coffee.” “You’re not human,” I breathed.
“You got a coffeemaker?” “Can’t have you turning into anything nonhuman.”
UGH I LOVE HIM
“I’m not going to let you die.” His gaze flashed with dark amusement. “I’m just getting started with you.”
I’d watched a documentary about the downfall of modern art. That what we consider art today is a poor example of the talent and heart of art in the past.
“True love stories never have endings.” —Richard Bach
This painting had been his mamma’s, and he’d kept it even though she was probably far from the best parent. He was good to his mamma.
Sobbing
“Are you saying you’ve never shown off with a woman in the car before?” “That’s not what I said.” “So, you have?” “When I was sixteen, probably.” That was a long time ago, yet I couldn’t stop a sliver of envy from finding its way to me. What girl was important enough to him that he’d shown off to impress her? I shook it off. “I’m marrying a Russo. Don’t you think I should know what it’s like before it’s too late?” The glance he cast my way was nothing but heat. “It’s already too late.” My pulse fluttered, but I forced a sigh. “It’s okay. If you’re scared—” He shook his head before the car
...more
I almost didn’t hear him over how shirtless he was.
The truth was, I was a liar. I’d always been a romantic. So deep a romantic that the thought of not finding my own love story felt like I once again stood in that vacant parking lot with nothing but snow and the whistle of cold wind.
“Nico,” I said, then hesitated. I wanted to ask him so much. I wanted to know everything, but I knew he wouldn’t tell me. So, I settled with: “I’m thirsty.” “Ah, so it’s Nico when you want something,” he drawled, amused. “Come on. Let’s get you something to drink.”
“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.”
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.
“You’re going to get me killed,” I announced. He shook his head before pinning me with a gaze that pooled with intensity. “Do you honestly think for a second I would let someone kill you?” No. It was an immediate, visceral response in my head.
“It’s dangerous,” I said. Silence filled the car. He ran a thumb across his bottom lip and glanced at me with one hand on the wheel. “Trust me?” The fact that he’d told me not to last night was a loud awareness between us. I swallowed, because the way he’d said it, all soft and rough, burned through my chest and straight to a place I tried to close off from the world. This was him telling me I could. That I should. I had to marry the man. I didn’t have to trust him. Though not everything is about what we have to do, but what we want to.
I never was a very good liar, so I told him the truth. “Yes,” I breathed. And I’d never been more sure of anything.
“Black as the devil, hot as hell, pure as an angel, sweet as love.” —Charles Maurice de Talleyrand
“You can call me Sebastian.” A subtle glint passed through his eyes before he added, “Perez.”
Ruh roh
“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.”
Gigging and kicking my feet
“There is no great genius without some touch of madness.” —Aristotle
He had something I wanted. Oscar had me . . . and then he was dead.
And I always was a bit of a perfectionist—if I couldn’t do it faultlessly, I hesitated to do it at all.
Fuck Diana. And fuck every asshole getting laid right now.
LMAOOO
“You can’t blame gravity for falling in love.” —Albert Einstein
“Take it off,” he gritted. He didn’t speak of my clothes. He looked at my face, but he might as well have stared at my left hand. Now I understood it wasn’t the nails on his neck that had bothered him—it was the ring.
I needed him. In a mindless, archaic, bordering madness kind of way. And if it made me a slut, I didn’t give a damn.
“I’ve never fucked a woman without a condom.” He nuzzled my neck. His voice was warm and smooth, but his teeth were clenched. “And I’m afraid you’ve just created a monster.”
“You take it so good,” he praised. “So fucking tight.” “So wet for me.”
“Fuck, you’ve got to be quiet,” he groaned in my ear. “Or this is going to be over before I’m ready.”
“Who fucks you?” he growled. I shivered. “You do.” “Who else?” “Just you,” I breathed. A rumble of satisfaction came from his chest, and he rested his forehead against mine. “I’m going to come inside you and then I’m going to fuck you again.” His lips hovered above my own. They were so close that with a slow thrust and a tense breath, they brushed mine so lightly it was like it never happened.
I’d let him inside of me. And now I’d never get him out.
“Love is like a virus. It can happen to anybody at any time.” —Maya Angelou
Like regret, there wasn’t room for hate. Hate changed someone’s make-up. It made them reckless. Hate killed its host. I never let myself hate because I loved to live. But right now, I could say I hated something. Two things. That goddamn ring and the man who gave it to her. Hatred fucking burned, like inhaling mace, getting punched in the throat, and being stabbed simultaneously. That was my comparison gathered from trial and error as a Made Man. Add in a dose of poison that eats you from the inside out, and that’s hatred.
And I had a bad, bad feeling that if this girl used the word please, I would give her anything she wanted.
I wondered if she was on the pill, and in a disturbing way kind of hoped she wasn’t. I wanted an irrevocable tie to this woman. I wanted to write my name on her skin, to do all kinds of fucked-up shit so she knew she was mine. Like lock her in my room and hand-feed her. With indifference, I finished my cigarette and contemplated the logistics of that.
I’d gotten what I wanted, what I thought I needed to end this obsession with Elena so I could stop fixating on her and get back to my life. But as I looked at her now, a throb ached in my chest, right behind the breastbone. Like her gaze had bruised me with a mere look.
Nonna sat on the adjacent couch, watching me like she knew I’d had mind-blowing, premarital sex last night. I flushed. She smiled like a cat.
LMAOOO
“Keep digging yourself into a hole, Celia,” Nonna muttered, taking a sip of coffee. “You’ll be to China in no time.”
BAHAHA
“Simply put,” Mamma said, “we don’t think the Russo is right for you.” “We?” Nonna’s brows pulled together. “Who’s we? Don’t put words into my mouth.”
“Love . . .” she started. “I guess it feels like you’re falling . . . and he’s the only one who could catch you.” I thought about it for a second. “Sounds scary.” She laughed. “No, not scary . . . thrilling.”
“We are all born mad. Some remain so.” —Samuel Beckett
“You’ve gone too fucking far,” Papà spit. “Elena is not yours until the marriage. And if you’ve somehow forgotten—that hasn’t fucking happened yet.” “Let me enlighten you, Salvatore,” Nico growled. “As soon as the contract was signed she was mine.” “Fuck the contract and. Fuck. You. Ace.” Nico ran a hand across his jaw with sardonic amusement. “You’re backing out?” “That’s what I said.” My heart threatened to beat out of my chest. Nico took a step toward my papà. “You want to know how to start a war with me, Salvatore? This would be how to do it.”
He wanted me to choose him and he was letting me see it. It was the most vulnerable thing I’d ever seen him do, and the fact that he might show me a side of him not many had before sent a throb to my chest.
