Once upon a time, I would’ve been certain all her emotion on display was nothing more than a con, trying to manipulate me into granting her freedom. But those days are gone. Right now, there is only this.
One sweet, tragic, perfect moment.
One perfect kiss.
One perfect goodbye.
Harper
All the questions about Marcello and my parents violently circulating through my head come to a full stop. His kiss brought them to a screeching halt.
If I could, I would pause time and beg for him to keep kissing me, to erase the memories of my past and everything I know about him. I’d wish I hadn’t met him the way I did, wished I hadn’t known the things I do now.
But this man is a mobster, and he is about to kill a ton of people.
Or worse … maybe they’re going to kill him.
Just the thought makes me want to scream, and I don’t fucking know why.
Why do I care so much? But more importantly, why do I find it so hard not to plead with him to stay?
My heart crumbles at the thought of not having these lips on mine again, these lips that consume me whole. I shouldn’t want this man, but for some reason, I’ve gotten so used to his touch and so addicted to his mouth that I can’t say no anymore. No matter how many times I tell myself this man is wrong for me, my heart has stopped believing it.
Because deep down inside, I know what I want—him.
But I can’t ever say it out loud.
That would mean admitting to myself that I care more about my own needs and wants than I do about finding out who murdered my parents. More than revenge itself.
And that can’t fucking happen. I made it my life’s mission to avenge them. If I can’t have that, then what am I? What do I have left except broken promises, a used body, and my dignity destroyed?
This man.
That is all I have left.
And I’ll be damned if I lose that too.
I don’t care if that makes me a monster. Because the way he kisses me—so hungrily, so deeply, full of passion and greed, as though I’m his last asset that he holds on to for dear life— makes me melt into a puddle.
Suddenly, the door slams open, and Marcello’s lips tear away from mine. Claudio bursts inside while I gasp for air, my lips still tingling from Marcello’s obsessive kisses.
“I’m sorry, sir, but we must leave. Now.” His tone is serious, even more so than usual.
Marcello tenses up as he briefly glances at Claudio and nods at him. His eyes lower while he turns his head back to me. His lips part, but then he closes them again as though he can’t find the words he wants to say.
Instead, he grabs my hand and brings it to his lips to place a sultry kiss on top, turning my heart into a mushy mess. When did I succumb to his charms? Was it always this easy to him?
Claudio grabs all the guns hanging from the racks and stuffs them into two giant bags.
Marcello’s hand slides away from mine as his body leans away, and he turns around without saying another word. But that kiss said more than any of his words ever could, and it makes goose bumps scatter across my skin.
I stand there, frozen to the floor, as Marcello and Claudio leave with the bags, abandoning me in the barren armory room as though it means nothing. As though I’m already part of the family, and they trust me completely.
It’s a crazy thought—being part of this Mafia, this madness. Just a month ago, I would’ve called that a nightmare.
Even if Marcello were to survive this whole turf war between him and the Russians, there’s no way I could ever belong in this messed-up home. Even though my heart started aching the moment he left with Claudio, I know it’s not right. I know deep down I don’t truly belong here, no matter how much I’ve convinced myself that I want to be near him.
But that last look he gave me was loaded with so much turmoil it filled my heart with dread.
What if he doesn’t survive? What will become of me?
Will the people who kill him come for me next?
I shudder just from the thought.
Suddenly, the door creaks, and I jolt up and down in terror. My heart rate shoots up but immediately comes down again once I spot Mario sauntering into the room.
“What are you doing here, my dear?”
I tuck my hair behind my ear. “I, uh … I was just saying goodbye to Marcello.”
“Right,” he says. “Or were you just admiring the racks of guns?”
He says it so casually as though it was never a secret to him that this room was filled with guns. And for some reason, that surprises me even though I should’ve known better. Mario is closest to Marcello. Of course, Mario would be privy to his most private matters.