Page 77 of The Worst Pucking Deal

Gail was wrong; I’m not strong and I’ve definitely been broken. My mind is hard-wired to think about survival, not love. And here I am with the perfect man, unable to believe or accept the fact he apparently loves me and… that I love him too. It’s the only explanation for the way he makes my heart race and the loneliness I feel when we’re not together.

“Lucia,” Sy cajoles. “Look at me.”

Shaking my head again, I let go of the tears building behind my eyelids. “Make me tell you,” I whisper, too cowardly to look at him. “Do what you did last night. Bleed the truth from me. Please, Sy.” My voice cracks, much like my heart does.

I don’t want to tell him what’s in my heart, but I need to. He’s my husband, and I don’t want to lose him before we even have a chance to see what we could be. I want him to hear the words, just as I want him to know the truth about Fabian. The mattress dips as he moves around, then he pulls me into his lap so my back rests against his front.

“Tell me the truth about who hurt you, sweet bunny,” he rasps. I stiffen. That’s not the truth I was referring to.

But as I feel a sting followed by the warmth of my blood, I feel compelled to answer truthfully. As I choke out his name, “Fabian,” my voice trembles with emotion, each syllable a painful admission of the past I carry. “He’s the one who... who did this to me,” I confess, feeling the weight of his actions etched into the scars on my inner thighs.

My heart constricts with a tumultuous blend of sorrow and rage. Sorrow for the pain I endured, and rage directed at the man who inflicted such torment upon me. Sy wraps one arm around my middle, forcing me to stay in place. He curses viciously under his breath. “That fucking gutless piece of shit. I’ll kill him for doing that to you.”

His words thaw at the ice around my heart, the wall I erected years ago and only partially let Gail through. A sob escapes me. “You can’t,” I cry out. “He… he…” At a loss for what to say or how to explain this mess, I trail off and shake my head.

“Look at me.” This time I don’t hide behind my eyelids. Craning my neck, I look at my husband over my shoulder. “I don’t give a shit about who he is or what he can do. He hurt you. You. He’ll pay, it’s that simple.”

A promise of violence and retribution shines from Sy’s dark orbs. I let out a strangled cry and twist in his hold so I’m facing him. Then I finally give voice to what I feel in my heart. “I love you, too.”

Our lips meld together in a fiery union, setting my senses ablaze with an intoxicating fervor. My fingers curl around the ends of Sy’s hair, pulling him closer as I surrender to the electrifying sensation coursing through my veins.

Sy’s embrace is possessive, his arms wrapping around me with a fierce desire that leaves me breathless. Lost in the moment’s intensity, I savor the taste of his lips, the rhythm of our breaths syncing in perfect harmony.

“I love you,” I murmur again. “You’re my husband now and always, and I love you.”

He growls, biting down on my bottom lip. “Now and always,” he echoes.

Lucia

After tending to our wounds, taking a refreshing shower—individually, or we’d never leave the apartment—Sy and I, at his insistence, venture out for breakfast. Fortunately, we can use the elevator to go down to the parking lot unnoticed. But immediately upon leaving the car, reporters approach us. Their cameras flash as they throw question after question at us.

“Are the rumors true? Are you really married?”

“Why are you keeping your marriage a secret?”

“Sawyer, hey, look over here. Are you ashamed of Lucia? Is that why you kept the wedding a secret?”

A low growl works its way up Sy’s throat. He grips my hand tighter and practically pulls me into the restaurant, his excitement faded. “Ignore them,” I whisper as the door closes behind us.

“I won’t allow them to insult you,” he growls angrily.

Sy opens the door a second time and before I can comprehend his statement, he steps outside. “Please, just let it go,” I plead, struggling to keep pace with his lengthy steps.

“Hey!” he calls, pointing straight at the guy who insinuated I was something to be ashamed of. “Show my wife some respect.”

The reporter straightens up, a cunning grin appearing on his face. “So you’re not denying it?”

Sy shrugs. “Are you hard of hearing or something? I just confirmed she’s my wife.” He reaches for my hand, holding it up for everyone to see my wedding band.

“So it’s true?” another asks.

Throwing his arm around my shoulders, Sy pulls me to his side. “It is. I’ve married Lucia Carter.”

“Don’t you mean Lucia Perry?” a woman asks.

“Why would that be what he meant?” I ask, feeling as though I need to say something. “This isn’t ancient times. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but women actually get a choice nowadays. And I like the name Carter.” I have no idea why I feel the need to defend myself.

Sy chuckles. “Maybe I’ll change mine to Carter, seeing as I don’t give a flying fuck what our last names are. The only thing that matters to me is that I’m with the woman I love.” Looking at the reporter who insulted me, he narrows his eyes. “And if you ever insult her again, you won’t be able to say you’re sorry for a long time. A broken jaw takes a while to heal.”

---