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“Guard what’s important to you, Ivanov.” Dominic’s eyes were still focused on mine. “Because I’m coming for all of it.”
She was a strong girl. A brave one. I recognized the look though. It was the same one I saw whenever I stared in the mirror. The girl was broken just like me.
“Why do we hang out with this fucking nut job?” I jerked my thumb at Levin. Dominic shook his head. “Because he’s good at killing things. People. Moods. Dreams. I like that about him. Keeps shit exciting.”
If she was going to suffer, it would be at mine. Who said romance was dead?
“I’d kill him if he touched you. I’d own you. We’d own you.” “You’d start a war.” “I’d fucking start the apocalypse,” he growled.
He kissed me like he meant it. Like he gave a damn.
In that moment, he wasn’t Dominic De Santis, terrifying king. He was every bit a sweet boy who looked like he liked a girl and wanted to make her happy.
I nodded and got up, self-conscious about being naked in front of him. “Don’t be,” he said as if reading my mind. “You’re beautiful, Bianca.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Levin said, glancing from Dominic to me. “It’s just a war.” Dominic turned to take me from Vincent. “Many men go to war for women. We’re just getting history over with, right, wasp?”
I found it funny he had to wear glasses to read. Big, bad mafia boy needed glasses. Of course, the asshole had to wear the thick, black framed ones that he rocked. Fucker looked good in anything.
“Hail will kill me if he finds me with you.” “The kings will kill me if they find me with you.”
“You have something to say?” Dom asked, pivoting back to her. “Only that I’d rather die than have any of you pricks touch me.”
“B, come on. Don’t be like this.” I answered by turning the TV up louder so Damon Salvatore was all I could hear.
She glanced to the house. My hands were still on her narrow waist. Fucking drop your hands, Seeley. What the fuck?
Dead. He was fucking dead. And I’d fuck her in his blood after I gutted him.
The words of Matteo De Santis played on repeat in my head. “Kill Bianca D’Angelou. Don’t let her marry Mikhail Ivanov. Kill her, and we’ll release your sister.”
“Because, respectfully, fuck you,” she said softly, her eyes downcast. “Your majesty.”
One cannot blame a monster for doing monster things, and I was the scariest monster of all.
What I liked most about Aubrey was probably the fact she caught on quickly and seemed like she was ride or die for whatever.
“I’m just not a good guy.” “I’m not a good girl,” I murmured back.
And I’d let him because he was something really fucking beautiful to me. Death. Destruction. Desperation. Yeah, Levin Seeley owned me.
I knew what it was. Fuck me, I knew. I gave a damn about my wasp. More than anyone else before her. And that was going to be a bit of a problem.
“A beautiful woman lets you punish her and tells you she loves you, and somehow you’re the one disgusted? Fuck, I’m sick just looking at your pathetic ass.”
