“You don’t know that,” I say. I know I should follow her, but I can’t move my feet.

“I do.” He jerks his head up then takes a deep breath. “So, what do I really have? I married someone who probably thinks of you when I’m kissing her, and now the people I trust the most in the world want me dead. What do I have, Roman? What? Because I’m at a loss right now.”

I have no words for him.

I truly don’t.

I don’t even know what to fucking say, so I walk toward him and sit. I sit on the bed, and I do something I’ve never done in my entire life—I grab a mob boss’s hand, and I hold it despite the fact that I want to break it only because he has what’s mine.

I hold his hand.

And he doesn’t kill me.

He doesn’t laugh.

Doesn’t shove me off the bed.

He squeezes it back, and for some reason, I want to cry for him. I want to cry for the burden he has and the fact that the girl who just left the room can’t even be his.

“I’m sorry,” I finally say. “I’m so damn sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he says after a moment of silence. “It’s mine.”

“For what?” I ask. “For loving someone?”

“For loving the wrong one,” he answers, gazing up at me. “And for being born a Campisi where I have no choice but to take the throne and kill anyone who might try to take it from me.”

I drop his hand and shove him a bit. “So kill them.”

“And if I don’t want to?” His eyes lock on mine.

I lift my chin and take a deep breath. “Then I’ll do it fucking for you.”

“That,” he says slowly, “is the best answer you could have given me.”

“Don’t tempt me; I have lots of rage right now.”

His chuckle makes me relax a bit. “Yeah, well, it’s not like I have much time left anyway. In a few days, she’s yours.”

I want to say don’t be so sure, but instead, I just nod.

And he accepts it.

Which makes me feel even worse as we go into business mode and start talking protection, the woman we both love, and life going forward.

Not how I thought this day was going to go.

Necessary.

But, oddly.

Sad.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“If people reach perfection they vanish, you know.”—King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table

Del

I’m insulted but also embarrassed that Roman had to see that and that King made me feel that way, yet I’m also feeling something I can’t quite decipher. I mean, the jealousy, the need from King, I can’t even look into it because if I do, I will start to feel things.

God, so many things.

And I think I’m betraying Roman.

I tell myself it’s okay because I’m a wife now, I made a pact in blood, so obviously, it’s fine, but my treacherous brain says that even if I didn’t, would I still make the same choice, and it’s always yes, that’s the word I always come up with, even in my dreams.

Yes.

Yes.

God, yes.

King.

I’m the worst sort of person, aren’t I? Where I imagine a world with him in it when I should be in the one Roman and I created.

“Want a drink?” The bartender, with a cute smile, kind eyes, and wearing no nametag, asks. He’s in a black shirt and has a sleeve of tattoos down his right arm as he drops a napkin in front of me along with a little bowl of peanuts.

I shrug. “Tequila?”

“Shot? Drink? Glass? Gun?”

I do a double take. “Gun?”

His smile is warm, his skin a gorgeous tan that obviously shows he doesn’t live in the area. “Just kidding.”

“Ah,” I answer. “Maybe just a shot for now.”

“Shots are good; they make the tears go away.” He pours me something into a glass, and I realize that I didn’t even look at what brand the liquor was or what he was even pouring.

“So…” I touch the shot glass. “What makes you think I need the tears to go away?”

He’s silent. “Take your shot first, and I’ll tell you.” His smirk is completely harmless. He’s washing dishes in front of me while simultaneously taking orders from people next to me.

I take my shot and tap the bar for another.

He gives one in seconds, and it makes me smile. He’s so easy. Why isn’t this? I love Roman. Right?

My heart beats, you also love King.

In such a different confusing way.

I’m a pawn, and now, what am I?

I tap the bar again with my finger, and my bartender freezes. “Let’s take it slower.”

“Huh?” I say.

His eyes flicker to the left, then the right, and suddenly things get a bit blurry as I sway on my barstool. My bartender is barely even there anymore, more or less like a smudge of a person.

I start to fall back and feel strong arms catch me.

Tags: Rachel Van Dyken Mafia Royals Crime
Source: readsnovelonline.net