Violent Beginnings (The Moretti Crime Family 2)

Jackknifing into a seated position, I hold the sweatshirt out in front of me. It’s dark gray, size extra large, and even before I bring it to my nose, I know it’s his.

Taking a deep breath, I inhale his unique scents, letting them soothe me before pulling the sweater on over my head and down my body. Warmth encompasses me. I’m protected even without him here. A tiny brief smile tugs onto my lips, and I wrap my arms around myself.

He stayed with me.

Then left me his shirt.

It might not be much, but it’s something.

It’s enough to give me hope.

If that’s a good or bad thing, I do not know.20MarkusOne week. That’s how long I’ve managed to keep her locked in the cell. It’s been hell, and I’ve drunk almost every bottle of liquor in the house to cope with it. I don’t want to admit it, but a part of me doesn’t just want her. It needs her. I can still feel her fragile body pressed against mine as she nuzzled into my chest, seeking my touch. I tell myself it’s because she’s had limited human contact for days, but it’s more than that.

It was like she threw caution to the wind completely and gave herself over to me. When I put her down, she shivered, the cold returning to her body, and as heartless as I am, as mean of a fucker as I’ve been known to be, I couldn’t stand there and watch her slight body tremble. I took my sweater off and gave it to her like the gentlemen that I’m not.

I take some Advil to ward off the headache that’s pulsing to life behind my eyes and make some breakfast. I take my time preparing it and think of what’s coming today.

Lucca will arrive this evening and help me with the last-ditch effort of keeping Fallon in line. If this doesn’t work, then I don’t fucking know what will.

Cooking breakfast, I dish up the scrambled eggs and sausage and place a piece of toast on the plate. Then, I pour a glass of orange juice and put it on the table.

I make myself a plate as well and do the same. Today will be the first time we’ve shared a meal together in days, and I won’t lie. I’m eager for her company. With everything set up, I head downstairs. Retrieving my keys from my pocket, I unlock the door to the cell and push it open.

My heart clenches in my chest when I find Fallon lying on her side, the sweatshirt I left her encompassing her body. Fuck. A wound of possession reopens in my chest. Mine. All fucking mine. There is something about seeing her in my clothes, and it isn’t an emotion I can even put into words.

Pushing the door open a little more, it creaks, and she wakes with a startle, pushing up into a sitting position, her sleepy eyes land right on me. Her brows pinch together in confusion as she looks at my hands, and I realize she thinks I’m coming to deliver breakfast.

“Have you learned your lesson?” I ask like a parent scolding their child.

Fallon pushes up off the floor, her legs a little unsteady. I clench my jaw and tighten my hand into a fist to stop myself from reaching out to her. I cannot treat her like a delicate flower, not when I’m the one that’s going to pluck all the pretty petals off of her.

“Do I… do I get to come upstairs?” The hope that radiates out of her shatters me.

“If you’ve learned your lesson.”

Rushing toward me, she nearly trips over her own feet, and this time I don’t stop myself from catching her. My fingers connect with her hip, and I steady her as she crashes into my chest, hardly moving me with the impact of her body.

Peering up at me through her lashes, her gaze is a mix of disbelief and exhaustion. I can tell she is tired, the bags underneath her eyes are dark, and her skin is puffy from days of crying. Her anguish is a pierce to the heart. I didn’t want to have to keep her in the basement. Truly, I didn’t. But she fucking betrayed me, she fucking broke my trust.

Taking a step back, I put a little distance between our bodies. “Come. I made breakfast, and then I want you to take a bath.”

She nods her head almost stiffly. I start for the door and realize within a second that she isn’t moving. Twisting around, I find her just standing there, staring at the open door. Did the solitude hurt that badly?

I extend my hand out to her. “Your breakfast is getting cold.” The growl of my voice causes her to snap out of it, and her eyes dart to my hand. A visible shiver slices through her, and then she places her hand in mine. I shouldn’t hold her hand, I know that. It will make her think things, but I don’t really care right now.