Mafia Casanova - Page 64

“Good to know we aren’t on your list of people to kill.” Ice dripped off her words. “I won’t ask again, Romeo, let go.”

“Red—”

“Don’t you dare!” she yelled, her eyes flashing. “You don’t have the right to call me that, to claim me, protect Naz or me. You don’t have the right!”

Desperate for answers, I kept her close, my mind trying to piece together what could have possibly happened to get her to this state. “Eden, I can’t protect you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong. Did someone hurt you?”

Her laugh was humorless. “That’s rich since it’s always you! You hurt me! Over and over again. You protect me. You reject me. You give me hope. You take it away. You lie while you smile, and you do it constantly until I believe you. Until I lie to myself in order to love you! I hate you, Romeo! I hate you!”

“You still love me?”

“Let me go!” she roared.

My heart slammed against my chest as she struggled against me. “I would do anything for you, anything!”

“I know!” She burst into tears. “Because you did!”

Cold chilled down my spine. “What?”

“Let me go before I scream!” She struggled against me. “I can’t even look at you, I can’t touch you. I can’t, I can’t, Romeo, I just can’t—”

“Calm down!” I pulled back and cupped her face. “I will always have you—”

“Until you’re bored! Until my name comes up. Is that it? Until I’m no longer useful? What happens when I age? Is that another get out of jail free card? Is that how this works? You claim me until you no longer want me, and then I die?”

“Die?” I shook my head. “What the fuck, Eden, did you miss the part where I said I’d do anything for you?”

“I know what you did!” she screamed, nearly loud enough to break glass.

I dropped my shaking hands to my sides. My entire body went numb. “What are you talking about?”

“I. Know. What. You. Did.” She spoke with conviction.

“Red, you’re not making any fucking sense. You’re talking in circles. I can’t keep up with you.”

“No! I can see very clearly for the first time, and I know what and who you are. Finally! After all these years, I know who you truly are, Romeo Sinacore!”

I shook my head. “Eden, I’ve never pretended to be anything I’m not. Especially with you.”

“Bullshit!”

“I’ve done everything for you. Everything.”

“Oh, I’m fully aware. Don’t you worry about that.”

“Can you stop speaking in code and just spit it out already.”

“I know who killed Tristian.”

I stumbled back. I could see it in her eyes.

All these years.

All this time.

I was protecting her from me.

Only to have her figure what I was capable of, destroying both of us when she seethed…

“YOU!”CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE“What we call evil is simply ignorance bumping its head in the dark.” —Henry Ford

Eden

Then: Right before the funeralIt seemed all I did in that living room was wait. It used to be for Romeo. Then it was in fear of seeing him. And now? Now it was for my own husband. I both wanted to see him and wanted to be left alone.

But it was time.

It all came to a head. I finally saw the evidence I needed.

They said time healed all wounds. Was that true? Was it false?

More lies.

No truths.

I made my way out of the living room and walked into his office. Thinking about the times when I used to look forward to coming in here after a long day. Tristian would be at this desk, working late with a drink at his right hand. I’d announce dinner was ready, and he’d pull me into his arms and kiss me like I meant something to him.

I had been a partner.

Not a pet.

Now I felt as though he’d owned me and used it as a manipulation while he went out and did exactly what he accused Romeo of.

In Tristian’s quest to win my heart, to beat his brother, he actually managed to become worse, and I knew I would never forgive him for it.

For only thinking of himself, when all I’d ever asked of him, was his love.

It should have been so easy.

Instead, he couldn’t see past this invisible competition between him and the guy who gave me away. He couldn’t see that I had made my choice that day because, in his head, it was an ongoing thing and always would be. He would always have to fight to win me; no matter how many times I tried to convince him, I’d already been won.

The front door shut just as I sat in his leather chair.

I used to spin in this chair.

He’d laugh and playfully tell me to get out.

We’d kiss.

I imagined Tristian would now just tell me to get out while on his way to shower off whatever skank he’d just slept with.

Tags: M. Robinson, Rachel Van Dyken Erotic
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