Page 93 of The Mafia's Broken Vows

“You are a mafia princess, Addy. His hostage. I’d expect no less.” I keep my voice gentle, knowing the weight of my words.

She swallows hard, her next words coming out in a rush. “Dante, do you have any idea who my real father is?”

A slow smile splits my face. “Tesoro. Believe me when I say it’s not a discussion you want to have today. Certainly not right now.”

Her eyes flash with determination as she throws off the covers. “Then you should let me leave. I want to confront that liar.”

“Not this again, Addy—” I start, but she cuts me off.

“You can’t keep me here forever. I can’t stay in this world,” she says, her voice trembling, each word a struggle. She wraps her arms around herself, as if physically holding her fractured pieces together.

I move closer, caging her between my arms, my palms pressed on either side of her head. Her breath hitches as I lean in, our faces mere inches apart. “I’m the scariest thing in this world, and you handle me.”

A ghost of a smile touches her lips, but the fear lingers in her eyes. Her gaze searches mine. “Do I, though?”

“Like a fucking pro.”

She closes her eyes, her brows knotting as she wrestles with the overwhelming reality pressing down on her. “Dante. You’re so . . .” she trails off.

“What?”

“Bossy. Pushy,” she says in a soft exhale. “I feel like you’re nudging me down this path.”

I nod. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” she breathes so softly I almost don’t hear it. When she opens her eyes again, they’re ablaze with a fierce mixture of desire and desperation. Her fingers weave into my hair, tugging me down, her lips crashing into mine. The kiss is frantic, like she’s trying to lose herself, to forget the fear in the familiarity of our connection.

With a final lingering touch, I break the kiss and pull back, my thumb tracing gentle circles on the delicate skin of her wrist.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” I murmur, locking eyes with her, grounding her in the truth I see there. “But I meant what I said, Addy. You’ll be fine.”

“Alright.” Her voice is breathy, her half-lidded eyes raking over me. She stops at my crotch, looks away, and promptly looks back as if she can’t help herself. Then she sucks her lower lip between her teeth.

My gaze drifts over her full breasts and rosy nipples down to the trimmed red bush at the apex of her thighs. But it is the sight of her scars that triggers a fierce streak of possessiveness in me—as if the universe itself has marked her as mine.

Slowly, almost tentatively, Addy trails a hand from her belly upward until she cups a breast, rolling her nipple between her thumb and forefinger. The action is both sensual and desperate, a silent demand for connection, and I feel my cock jerk in my pants.

“Fuck, Addy, what are you doing right now?” I ask, my voice rough with desire.

“Nothing. You should go. You have a war to plan, don’t you?” Her eyes and body are begging me to do the opposite.

She doesn’t want me to leave her. And she doesn’t want this war.

I huff out a breath, then lean over to remove her hand from her breast and bring it to my lips, dropping a tender kiss on her palm.

Addy is using sex as a coping mechanism, a way to ground herself in the disaster that has upended her life. So much has changed for her in the past twenty-four hours. Her past and future are irrevocably altered. Our connection might be the one constant she can cling to. I see her struggle, and my heart breaks for her.

“I see you, Adele.” I brush back silky wisps of hair from her forehead. “I promise I’m here, and I won’t stop fighting until you feel safe—in every way a person can be safe. Okay?”

She nods, her eyes glazing with a mixture of desire and exhaustion. “Okay.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say, giving her a quick peck on the lips. “Get some rest. I’ve pushed you hard enough for today.”

Addy nods, turning onto her side as her lids flutter closed. Within moments, she’s snoring softly, the rise and fall of her chest hypnotic in the otherwise silent room.

My attention is drawn to the three linear scars that mar the otherwise flawless expanse of her back. They’re a testament to the violence that has haunted her past, a reminder of the incredible strength and resilience she possesses.

She’s survived the most impossible odds as a child. And while others were having playdates, she was enduring hospital appointments, multiple surgeries, and relearning how to walk.

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