She’s a weakness, even back then.
“What do you want, Casso?”
I feel a shiver along my skin. Her voice is the same, ten years later. Her tongue, her mouth. Everything the same. Is this what I miss when I close my eyes and picture her back in my life? Is this why I’m so fucking angry whenever I imagine Olivia’s smile, her laughter, her moans in my ear?
“We should talk.”
She looks back out the window. “What’s the point?”
“We’re getting married. You don’t want to have a conversation with your future husband? You should learn what I expect from you.” I try not so smile as she turns on me with rage in her eyes.
“What you expect from me?”
“In terms of how you’ll behave, how many children we’ll have, your public appearances—”
“You cretin. You absolute psychopath. You’re seriously standing there, trying to tell me how to behave? I’ve been here hours and you’re already being an asshole?”
I shrug slightly and suppress the thrill that threatens to run wild. For as long as I’ve known Olivia, I’ve always loved riling her up. It started in high school when she was a sophomore and I was a senior. The war raged out on the streets but in the halls of our fancy private academy, she was just some girl in a sea of fucking girls. But to me, she stood out, and I couldn’t help but tease her mercilessly. And each time, she rose to the bait, her cheeks turning pink, her jaw clenching down, and god, I used to spend entire class period picturing those lips wrapped around my cock.
There’s something beautiful about how angry she gets, like the absolute mindless rage that rushes onto her face is the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen, and even now it feels like heaven to push her to her limits. I don’t actually want to discuss any of this stuff, but I do want to see just how far she’ll let me take her.
“Unfortunately for you, that doesn’t change your situation. You’re here now, Olivia, and you’re mine.”
“I’ll never be yours.” She says that last word like it’s a curse.
I spread my hands. “But, Olivia, you already were mine. Once upon a time. I think about you fondly, you know.”
Her cheeks turn pink and I savor every detail. Several emotions pass over her face: the anger, the ever-present anger, but tempered by shame, and attraction and excitement, and self-loathing. It’s lovely, too lovely, and I know I need to calm myself right now. This marriage is real and if I start out by going too far, it’ll only make what’s to come that much more difficult.
And yet I can’t help myself.
“Don’t ever talk about that again,” she says quietly, staring at me in the eye like she’s about to stand up and stab me. “I mean it, Casso. Don’t ever fucking mention it again or I’ll set this whole house on fire.”
“You would do it too, wouldn’t you? I learned ten years ago not to take your threats lightly.”
Her jaw works as she shifts toward me, leaning closer like she’s thinking of leaping from that seat and tackling me. Despite the fact that I’m twice her size. “Everyone’s acting like what happened back then is dead and gone. But it isn’t, is it? I can tell you think about it too. You’re looking at me now the same way you looked at me back then.”
With utter, unabashed desire.
I want to take her, control her, dominate her. God, I want to break her.
But if there’s anything I took from what happened back then, it’s that she’ll break me first if I let her.
“They didn’t go through what we went through.”
“You didn’t go through what I went through and don’t try to act like there’s an equivalence.”
I feel my control crack and a bit of raw pain filters down my arms. “You think I didn’t have it hard? That my family didn’t lose men, people I knew and cared about? You think I suffered no consequences? You ruined me, you know that? Everything that came after happened because of you.”
“Poor baby.” She sneers, showing her little white teeth. “You’re head of a powerful mafia family now. Seems like it all worked out. Here I am, some unwilling bride to a guy I hate. Which one of us has it worse?”
“You don’t understand.” I take two steps forward, seething. Her bored, cutting attitude, her careless eyerolls. She has no concept of how everything rippled from that one stupid mistake.
“And I don’t think I really care to. Why don’t you just go away and leave me alone?”
“Because as much as I’d love to keep you locked in a fucking closet your whole life, we are going to have to make this work. We’re getting married, Olivia, whether you like it or not. Let’s figure out how we can do it without killing each other.”