I nod, but I don’t even know what to say. Luca looks at me with such intensity in his eyes, as though nothing else matters but him and me. Not the fact that I ran, not these dead bodies scattered around us, or the pool of blood I’m resting in. Nothing.
He brings his hand up to my cheek and wipes away the tear rolling down in such a gentle way that I almost forget he shot five people point-blank.
“Don’t cry, bunny … I’m here,” he says, and he holds out a hand. His hair is still dripping wet from the shower. “C’mon.”
I grab his hand, and he helps me up from the concrete floor. But the blood is still caked in my dress and my hair, and the mere sight of it makes me want to jump into the water across the road.
“It won’t come off,” I say in a frenzied attempt to wipe it away.
“We’ll get you cleaned up at home,” Luca replies, tucking his gun back into its holster. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” He grabs my shoulders and makes me look at him, which makes me hyperaware of the fact that I ran away from him.
“I …” I look away.
He tips up my chin. “Don’t ever run away from me again.”
Resentment boils up inside me, but I feel guilty as hell when I look down and see all of these bodies. They died because of me.
“Jill?” Luca says.
He killed five men point-blank, and it doesn’t even seem to faze him.
“You killed them,” I murmur, unable to look away from the onslaught in this warehouse.
Who were they? No one ends up in the gutter like this by their own volition, right? Do they have family that will miss them? Do they leave behind kids?
Luca grabs my collar and forces me to look at him. “I’d kill every last motherfucker on this planet before anyone ever takes you from me.”
I swallow. Hard.
“They deserved what they had coming for them,” he says through gritted teeth.
So he saw what they planned to do. More tears well up in my eyes. All of this is my fault.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking—”
“Hey,” Luca interjects. “Don’t feel guilty.” He leans in to get on my level, staring into the depths of my soul as though it comes easy to him. “I was the one who killed them. And I would do it again, and again, and again, if it means keeping you safe. No one touches my wife.”
Something about that makes me shiver, his words lighting a fire in my chest that I desperately cling to, the same flutters I felt before when he killed those men … for me.
What is this?
Have I suddenly gotten used to his sadistic needs?
Or is it because I’m in awe that someone would go through all this trouble, all this murder, just for me?
A cold rush of wind comes in through the door and onto my blood-covered skin. Someone storms inside, completely out of breath. I recognize him as one of Luca’s guards, and he has the same size shadow as the one following me earlier. It must’ve been him.
“Nicely timed,” Luca grumbles.
“She ran so fast,” he says between breaths. “I didn’t even notice she was gone until it was too late.”
“You’re lucky I heard her scream,” Luca snarls back.
He heard me?
So he was searching for me all along.
“I’ll deal with you when we get home,” Luca spits at his guard.
No. No one else deserves to be blamed for my actions. I don’t want any more fighting because of me. And I don’t want anyone else getting killed because of what I did.
So I grab Luca’s face and make him focus on me. “Blame me. I was the one who ran.”
Luca places his hand on top of mine. “Don’t try to run from a man like me,” he says, his voice low, gravelly. “I will always find you. And if anyone even so much as tries to hurt you, they will die a painful death.”
The obsession in his voice is hard not to notice. He says it with such conviction that it’s hard to stop the goose bumps from covering my body from head to toe.
His grip on my hand intensifies as he turns around and pulls me with him. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”
Luca
I bring her home in my car. She hasn’t stopped holding my hand like she’s afraid I might disappear. She hasn’t said a word since she got inside, but she didn’t protest either.
Her eyes are hollow and filled with confusion.
As though she’s wondering why she didn’t run in the opposite direction.
She should’ve been more careful.
Just the thought of those filthy fuckers getting their hands on her makes my fist ball. I should’ve cut off their dicks and fed it to them for having the mere idea they could even touch my fucking bunny.
But I had to control myself for her sake.
She’s not used to this kind of violence.
Her father kept her out of harm’s way for most of her life. Maybe she saw one or two people killed, occasionally. But there wasn’t ever a spree or a slaughtering, or even an all-out gang war.
I have.
I’ve seen it all and even took part in it all.
My father made my brother and me watch as he took the head of one of his enemies just for trying to undercut his prices. We were only kids.
Still, it shaped me into the fearless man I am today, one fit to rule the empire he built.
If only I could make her understand the importance of sticking together.
In this world, no one is better off alone, especially not pretty girls like her.
Men would kill to have her.
I would, and I fucking did.
My grip on her hand grows stronger as hers begins to wane.
I won’t let her slip out, despite the fact that she’s been distant since I found her.
I know she must be wondering if this was the last time she got out and saw the world for what it truly was. Tainted. Vicious.
When I look at her, I don’t feel the hatred I should feel or the need to punish her.
She tries to escape my grasp, yet all I can focus on are those soulful eyes and those shiny, kiss-worthy lips.
All mine.
Even when she doesn’t want to be mine.
I have her body. I have her finger and her crown.
But what I don’t have is her heart.
I will fucking make it mine, no matter what it takes.
When we’re finally home, I help her out of the car and carry her in my arms to the front door of the building. Her body is still covered in blood, and the receptionist does a double take when she spots us.
“She’s fine. Call off the rest of my men,” I say.
She nods and immediately picks up the phone while I step into the elevator.
I’ll have to up security around and inside the building.
Don’t want her trying these dangerous fucking things again. The streets aren’t safe for rich mobsters like us. People from all sides want our lives. Our families have too much blood on their hands.
“You don’t have to carry me,” she mutters under her breath. “I’m not made of porcelain.”
I look down into her big eyes and the spats of blood on her cheeks. Too much filth for a porcelain doll.
“I’m carrying you because I want to,” I reply.
She starts to blush and looks away.
As the elevator reaches my floor, I march through the hallway and slam the door to my penthouse shut with my foot before heading straight to my biggest bathroom. It’s a separate room from the one in my bedroom with a big bath, a sauna, and a massage area.
I set her down on a wooden lounge chair near the massage table and go to my knees in front of her to inspect her thoroughly. I take off her shoes to look at her feet, then check underneath her skirt to make sure there are no wounds … because if there are … I will cut down every last one of those motherfucker’s family members as well.
“I’m not hurt,” she says, fumbling with her dress. “I just feel so …” She shudders. “Icky.”
“C’mon,” I say, and I get up while lifting the dress. “Let’s get this off you.”
She stands up momentarily so I can peel away the dress, but when I throw it in a corner, she wobbles again so I ease her back down. “Easy there.” I make sure she won’t get up again by throwing her the look. “Sit.”
She licks her lips and averts her eyes while tucking her hair behind her ear, but I can tell she’s hiding. Especially when she covers her body with her arms. Even though there is nothing that I haven’t already seen, she’s still trying to hide.
Sighing, I go to the bath and turn on the faucet to fill it up with warm water.
Grabbing her hands, I make her stand. I lower myself until I’m at her waist and peel down her underwear, the last remaining piece of fabric. As it touches the floor, her thighs erupt into goose bumps.
The dress is ruined, but she still looks as gorgeous as she ever did, especially from this level. Still as appetizing as ever, and the mere sight of her naked flesh and soft pussy makes me want to bite and lick.
But I contain myself and focus on getting her into the bath and grabbing a sponge to clean her with.
“Why are you doing this?” she asks after a while.
I pause mid-stroke with the sponge and let it rest on her arm. “You’re my wife. It’s not just my duty to seduce you. It’s my job to take care of every part of you.”
There come the goose bumps again and that same blush covering her entire face.
She looks away, but I softly grab her collar and make her look at me. “You think I’m a monster, but the real monsters are out there.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “You just came to get your toy back.”
My grip on her collar tightens as I kneel beside the bath. “You are more than a toy to me.”
“How? When you try to show me off to my family by playing with me under the table and in the bathroom just so they know I’m yours?”
“Not just them,” I reply. “I want you to know as well. And I want you to know that I’m not letting you go. No matter how hard you try, I will not let go of what belongs to me.”
She sucks in a breath, biting her bottom lip. She’s trying so hard not to let it affect her that it physically hurts to watch.
“Why do you care so much?” she asks. “You could’ve married any other girl. Any one of them would’ve fallen to their knees for you.”
“But not you,” I respond, looking into her eyes. “Maybe that’s exactly why.”
“So you’re a masochist,” she says.
I snort. “Maybe that’s the one thing we have in common then.”
Her eyes widen, and she immediately turns red as a beet again. “I … am not,” she stutters.
“Is that why you moan every time I touch you?” I tilt my head. “Because that sure sounds like someone who hate-loves pain.”
She rolls her eyes and looks away, but I know she got the point.
“Why do you think I passed on the opportunity to marry your sister?” I ask. “She would’ve been the easier option compared to you.”
“Thanks,” she scoffs.
“You know it’s true.”
“But you don’t do easy.”
“Exactly.” I tilt my head to look at her, but she keeps looking away like she’s hiding herself, and it pisses me off. “I’ve wanted for nothing else, nothing … but to own you,” I say, and I grab her face with both hands. “But you’ve wanted nothing more than my fucking brother. That motherfucker died for you.”
“And that’s why you do all of this,” she hisses. “To punish me for your brother’s death.”
I take in a deep breath. “That’s what I thought too.”
Now she finally looks at me without me having to force her to.
“What do you mean?”
I pick up the sponge and sink it into the water before slathering it all over her arm again, watching every drop of water roll down her skin, and at that moment, I want nothing more than to lick each one of them.
“I want to,” I answer, thinking of all the ways I could make her hurt and beg. “Believe me.”
“Do it then,” she says, her eyes boring into mine. “I chose to run away.”
“Is that what you expect me to do?” I ask. “Is it what you want?”
“Since when do you care about what I want?” she sneers.
I grab her hand and press a kiss onto the top, which immediately grabs her attention … and makes the air lock in her throat.
“You think you know me, but you don’t,” I say as I look up at her from underneath my eyelashes.
“I know you hate me as much as I hate you,” she responds.
“I never said I hated you …” I reply, leaning over the tub so she can’t look away. “I hate what you’ve done to me. What you make me do.” I grab her face and inch closer and closer. “How greedy you make me.”
Her lips are wet, the steam rising from the bath drawing smoke between us. But nothing can keep me away from her.
Nothing.
Not even my own damn stone-cold heart.
“I want to hate you,” I murmur so close to her lips I can almost taste them. “So badly …”
“Hate is all you’ve ever shown me,” she murmurs back, her eyes completely transfixed on mine.
“If I hadn’t, there would’ve been nothing left of you.”
She sucks in a breath, her body freezing in the hot bath, her nipples growing taut as I hover so close to her face I can feel every one of her twitches just from the vibrations in the air.
“Show me then. Show me what it means not to hate.”
I press my top lip against hers, and whisper, “Kiss me and find out.”
One second.
That’s all it takes for our lips to collide and for her mouth to finally crave mine as I have craved hers. I’ve claimed her lips before, but she’s never given them to me freely. Willingly. Hungrily.
And fuck me, that makes me hungry for more.
The way she kisses me back wakes the hunter inside me.
I groan against her lips as I coax them to open, desperate for a taste. And when she does, our tongues entangle, and I kiss her deep and hard, wanting to draw out her soul.
I’ve kissed girls before, but none of them ever made me this lusty, this greedy for more.
I lean up and get closer and closer until I’m halfway into the tub with my arms, but I don’t care. The warmth only heats me up even more as I circle my tongue around and lick the roof of her mouth.
She tastes pure, divine, like everything I could ever want to ruin.
The more I have, the more I want to take, and take, and take until there’s nothing left.
I want to break every last inch of her until all she’ll ever want is me.
All I wanted was to punish her for my brother’s death, for destroying my family, for fleeing from me in that car and running away from the airport when she was supposed to marry me, for k—
I pull away from her mouth and stare at her for a moment. Her lips are swollen and red, still pouted from the kiss, and so fucking delicious looking that it almost makes me want to have another taste.
But all I can think of is the only thing that brought us here.
The one lie I’ve been telling myself all this time.
That I feel … nothing.
Because my heart is fucking racing in my throat.
What the fuck?
No, fuck no. It’s not true. It’s not real.
I get up again and quickly spin on my heels so I don’t have to look at that pretty fucking face and her gorgeous naked body because it’ll only make me want to jump in there and devour her.
I’ve never felt anything for anyone before.
Yet …
My fists ball.
“I have to go,” I say under my breath.
“Wait!” She raises her hand, but I ignore it and storm off with sweat rolling down my back and a rock-hard dick tenting my pants.
I’ll take care of that later.
